In Another Life

Harry’s apartments aren’t far from the hospital. The car ride is a mere 20 minutes that are spent listening to Harry and his security team put out the fires that I have inadvertently caused. By drawing Harry away from his meetings, his sudden absence brings about a lot of questions that his PR team now have to dodge neatly and without incriminating their royal charge.

If I were half the person I suspect Harry believes me to be, I would care that his sudden departure has brought about so many obstacles and issues. And I do care, truly I do. But all that I can really think about at this moment is the fact that Harry’s hand is resting on my upper thigh, open-faced and warm even through the material of my skirt.

We arrive presently at Clarence House, and the car brings us to a stop in front of a massive, heavy-duty gate. There is a small building to the left, and as Ray rolls down the windows, I realize that there are four policemen (guards?) standing at attention and saluting the car. Harry doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he makes no mention of it.

I chance a glance up from beneath my eyelashes, and I see the security personnel studying me closely. But then Jacob is vying for the officer’s attention, and I hear my name being murmured before the officer nods and steps away from the car.

We drive down the road a bit, bypassing smaller buildings and vehicles before Ray parks neatly in front of what I can only assume is Harry’s quarters. I gaze out from inside of the car, and I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed by what I see waiting for me.

There is a massive three-story main section of the building, all done up in brown stone and white accents. There is a small part that juts out, which I can only assume to be the main foyer, but the rest of the building is very flat. It arcs out impressively on both sides, though neither wing reaches the impressive magnitude of the main building. Both are two-stories and heavily full of windows in which the curtains are drawn.

I cannot, for the life of me, imagine my Harry living in such magnificent and tremendous quarters. I can begin to understand just why he prefers to spend so much of our time in my cramped little flat. At least there we are cozy and together, whereas I imagine here to be so… empty and vast.

I’m struck with the sudden classic mental image of the both of us sitting at opposite ends of a ridiculously long dining table, and Harry asking for me to pass him the salt or something, and then Prince Charles is staring down at me disapprovingly and I somehow know that I can’t just get up and out of my chair to walk the salt down to my boyfriend.

“Bry?” Harry’s voice breaks my concentration and I look up to see him already standing outside of the car and reaching back inside for me. The smile on his face is warm and loving. “Alright then?”

I nod and accept his hand before I allow him to pull me to my feet. His hand remains firmly tangled up with my own as he exchanges a few words with his security personnel. I wait patiently before he backs away from the car and starts to pull me in the direction of the front door.

He unlocks the door and steps inside with me trailing behind hesitantly. I catch a glimpse of dark wood and of rich red color before Harry slams the door shut behind me and latches on to my hips. I stumble forward into his body, and I catch myself with a hand to his chest. I can feel his heart beating rapidly in my palm, and I can feel his breath come hot and heady across my face.

His hands are searing and heavy as they grab hungrily at my hips. His touch burns through the thin material of my skirt, and he nudges my legs apart with his knee. I’m struggling to stay on my tiptoes so our mouths can remain crushed together. The tips of my heels are skimming the floor, and I find that I’m clawing at his back impatiently.

“Bryn,” Harry moans as I pull away, his full lower lip between my teeth. “Bryn, I do not want to take you against this door—”

“Then take me on the floor,” I coo back, my fingers already playing with the zipper of his khakis. Inwardly, I wince at how annoying and unflattering my response is, before I shake it off and go back to busying myself with his lips.

His groan is deep and guttural as I brush against his growing erection, and my body responds in the most primitive way. Desire rushes down my body, and I rock my lower body against his knee, searching for any type of friction.

And oh god, I’ll be so mortified to think back upon this, but right now I really can’t bring myself to care. Everything just feels so good, and this moment has been building up for weeks now and all I want is for the feeling of Harry’s body beneath my own to never, ever go away.

With herculean effort, Harry pulls us away from the front door of his apartments. We stumble backwards, unwilling to relinquish our grasp upon one another. The shattering of glass breaks our concentration for only a split second as Harry slams me up against the table in the front hallway. I catch a short glimpse of a broken picture frame on the floor, but Harry biting down on my lower lip captures my attention once more.

I become engrossed with pulling on his hair as he leaves wet, sloppy kisses down my throat and across my chest. He pulls at my shirt, cupping my breasts through the material. I arch my back so I’m pushing myself up into his grasp, and mewling pathetically for him to continue touching me.

“This bloody blouse,” Harry snarls, his eyes dark and hypnotizing. He gathers up two handfuls and then tears. There’s the sound of fabric ripping and of buttons hitting the floor before the cold air hits my skin, and my body shudders reactively.

He moans, actually moans at the sight of my bra—a scrappy bit of sheer lace that supports, but does nothing to hide my modesty. “I have dreamed of this,” He murmurs and then lowers his head and kisses the nipple before he nips lightly.

A bolt of pleasure rips through my body and then centers squarely in my groin. I find myself moaning pathetically, my head thrown back as he lavishes warm, wet kisses upon one breast and then the other.

Oh god, it has been so, so long since I’ve been with someone. I’m almost embarrassed by the way my body reacts to Harry’s touch, but I know that his body is betraying him, too. He is just as turned on, and eager, as I am.

Our lips crash together again in a hungry kiss. Harry winds one hand through my hair and then pulls my head back to give himself better access to my lips. His other hand is creeping down my thigh and grasping at my skirt. I swivel my hips against Harry, so as to allow him to pull my skirt up, but I brush against him again, and he groans loudly into the soft skin of my neck.

I can feel the material bunching up around my waist, and I flush slightly, knowing that he’ll be able to see just how much I’m enjoying myself. It’s not like I’d planned on pleasuring a prince when I dressed myself this morning! Maybe then I would have worn slightly sexier underthings.

On a really unimportant side note, I need to start buying some sexier underthings if this is going to become a regular occurrence.

The first time his knuckles brush against me, I jump at the sudden contact. He laughs into our kiss, before he pulls away and peers into my eyes. I’m breathless, but I meet his gaze steadily. His eyes are so warm and welcoming, and I’m slightly taken aback at what else I can see shining through.

It’s love. Harry loves me.

This realization comes crashing down on me so heavily that my heart skips several beats in my chest. Overcome with emotion, I have to blink a few times in order to keep tears from welling up in my eyes. How incredibly overpowering it is to be able to realize, to see, to feel just how deep someone’s love for you is.

Surprised by this new information, and for lack of something to do with my hands, I reach a trembling hand up and stroke the soft skin of his cheeks lightly, just above the scruff of his unshaven beard. He leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed before he drops a sweet, innocent kiss onto the palm of my hand.

And then I realize something else in this moment. I love Harry, too. I adore him. He is my entire world, and I don’t know when that happened in my mind. Somewhere between all of his silly, crooked smiles and his endearing, sweet personality, I have fallen completely, madly, utterly in love with the man before me now.

I draw back slightly, and Harry opens his eyes and looks at me questioningly. I shake my head, and offer him a weak smile before I lean forward again and kiss him sweetly on the lips. He relaxes at my touch, and my skirt, which has been pulled up around my hips, slowly begins to sink back down into place.

“Harry,” I whisper against his skin, and he murmurs my name back softly, so softly. “Harry,” I finish up in that voice that’s not quite mine.

I have so much that I want to say to him, so much that I need to say to him. But in this moment, saying his name is enough for me. Maybe it’s just because I want to keep this brand new information to myself for a bit longer, or maybe it’s because I’m utterly terrified of parting with this newfound knowledge.

If I breathe life into this statement, if I admit it to anyone other than myself, then I put myself at risk of being hurt. And while I know that Harry loves me back—I can see it in his eyes, in his words, in his actions—there is still that self-preservation inside of me that doesn’t want me to become vulnerable.

Harry pulls himself away from my neck and then surveys me in that way that he has that makes me feel beyond what words can describe—so utterly gorgeous and perfect and complete.

He leans forward and kisses the shell of my ear. “Bryn, where has your smile gone?”

“It’s still here,” I assure him in that weak, shaky voice, reaching up to touch his cheek again. “I promise.”

He studies me, his eyes searching my own closely. “Bryn, are you—”

“Please stop talking,” I beg him. “Please Harry. Just make love to me like you swore you would. I want—I want to—please.” My voice breaks at the end, and to my horror, the tears begin to well up in my eyes.

I am mortified by my show of emotion, and so I make to pull away from him. But his touch is gentle as he tilts my head so that he can see me again. And there is no judgment or repulsion in his gaze.

Harry stands quickly, and then pulls me to my feet until our bodies crash together unceremoniously. He steadies me out before he scoops my body up in his firm grasp. I’m startled by the sudden loss of gravity, but he settles me against his chest carefully before we begin our ascent up the stairs.



“Wake up.”

It’s a soft whisper that enters my subconscious and tugs gently upon the hazy tendrils of sleep that consume me. I exhale quietly, and make an attempt to burrow a bit deeper into the bedding.

“Bry, darling, love, wake up.”

I know that voice. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s someone I know, someone I hold dearly, someone I love—

A light touch at the small of my back sends shivers racing up my spine, and I whine softly and then lean into the touch. I hear a soft swell of laughter in my ear, and then the fingers leave my skin entirely.

I don’t have time to lament the loss of touch, because it’s back again almost immediately in the form of a kiss. A soft, wet kiss pressed to the tender skin behind my ear and then a pair of cold fingers brushes my hair back away from my face.

Opening my eyes has never been such an impossible task, and once I do manage to descend completely back into reality, I’m a bit embarrassed that it’s taken me so long to do so. And then a ferocious blush settles deep into my skin as I realize just where I am.

Harry is lying down on his side, one arm propping himself up and the other dancing sensually across the bare skin of my shoulder. His chest is bare, and the dark sheet is slung low on his hips, just barely concealing himself from me.

And then I recall that I’m in Harry’s apartment in Clarence House, and that I too am very much naked. And if the slightly protesting muscles in my lower half of my body have anything to say about things, than Harry and I definitely did more than just sleep together last night.

Before I have time to wonder if I was really rubbish, the memories of last night come flooding back upon me so quickly that honestly, I’m a bit overwhelmed.

The tension filled ride back to Clarence House, the furtive looks that Harry kept casting in my direction, the way that we’d nearly had sex in his foyer, and the haphazard tour he’d given me of his private apartments once we’d calmed down, the smell of berries as Harry popped open a bottle of wine in his kitchen, the way I’d nearly attacked him with my lips once we settled down on the sofa—

Oh god. The way I attacked him with kisses as soon as his glass of wine was safely placed on the coffee table in front of us.

Shit, shit, shit. I’d thrown myself at him, and nearly ripped his shirt off of his body in my haste to get to his bare skin. He’s going to think I’m some sort of slag who can’t keep her legs closed.

“Good morning,” Harry whispers against my skin as he scatters kisses across my shoulder and neck. “How did you sleep?”

“Well, thanks,” I admit, pulling the sheet up from my waist so that my chest is properly covered before I flip myself onto my back. I’m so sure I look a fright right now, what with not having brushed my hair last night, or taken off my makeup. “How about you?”

“Better than I have in a long time,” He admits in a husky voice, reaching out and tilting my head so that he can have better access to my lips.

Our mouths break apart with a bit of a noise, and he takes a moment to run his fingertips down the right side of my face gently, so softly that my body shivers deliciously at his touch and I lean into his hand before I drop a chaste kiss to his fingertips and allow him to sit back down on his bed, with his back against the headboard.

It takes him only a second to get settled before he gently nudges me until I’m in his arms once again. I’m pressed up against his chest, with my chin resting on my arm that’s draped lazily across his body.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” He asks quietly, lightly touching my temple. When I shake my head, a bit embarrassed with as to how engrossed I am in my own thoughts, he smiles that dear, sweet, crooked smile that I love so dearly. “Not even a hint for me?”

I pause, conflicted on spilling my entire heart’s worth of emotions out to him or keeping it all to myself so that I can go home and just think about the events of the last twelve hours. I know that if I go home, I’ll be so absorbed in my own mind that I’ll overthink everything and somehow I’ll end up even worse off.

“Are you in a lot of trouble because of me?” I ask softly, allowing myself the small pleasure of drawing meaningless shapes across his bare chest.

Harry frowns. “What do you mean?”

“With Amanda dragging you away from your meetings and then me hogging you the rest of the day,” I whisper, refusing to meet his gaze as I continue to draw shapes.

“And most of the night?” He supplies, grinning wolfishly before he settles down into a serious face. “Is that why you’ve been so stuck in your own head all morning?” He squeezes me tightly. “You don’t need to worry about it, Bry. Everything will be fine.”

“You say that,” I start, having horrid visions of the Queen bursting through the doors and yelling about how irresponsible and foolish Harry has been lately. “But you have these big, important commitments, and I just pulled you away from them.”

“Meetings and appointments can be rescheduled,” He shrugs his thin shoulders. “If something had happened to you, I’d want to know straight away and I’d want to be there every step of the way—I hope you know that,” He’s gone really still and his grasp is tight as he forces my chin up so that I’m looking him in the eye. “You are more important to me than any meeting or task or appearance, Bryn, and I’d walk away from a hundred of them to get to you if you were in trouble. You know that, right?”

My eyes have gone all misty, and I laugh, though we both know that it sounds a bit crushed and caught in my throat. “You make me sound so important. I’m just me.”

“You are important,” Harry says earnestly, moving so that the both of us are now sitting up in his bed with the sheets twisted around our bodies. “Bryn, you are one of the most important things in this world to me, and I want you to know that. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, and honestly as stupid as it makes me sound, you’re the last thing I think about at night.”

He pulls a face as I start giggling into his shoulder. “I know I sound like I belong in a Hollywood film or something, but it’s true. You do know that, right? I-I would hate for you to have this idea in your head that you’re not—”

I feel so genuinely touched by his words, and I know that I have to put him out of his misery. Harry’s not the best when it comes to grand romantic gestures, and putting his feelings into words.

I reach out and put my index finger to his lips so that he stops speaking. “Hush,” I instruct in a soft voice with a small, tender smile. “I know. It’s okay.”

The kiss that lands on my mouth takes me completely by surprise, though I melt eagerly into his touch and allow myself to fall backwards onto his pillows beneath his body weight.

“You,” He announces, his voice muffled as he starts to drop kisses on my chin and down my throat. “Bryn Alexander, are a dangerous creature who knows exactly what she does to this poor lad, and I am convinced that you’re only stringing me along for your own amusement, you wicked, wicked woman.”

His fingers, which until now have been skating lightly across my body, start to dig into my sides and I let out the most unbecoming, unladylike shriek of laughter as I realize that Harry is tickling me mercilessly. I shy away from his touch, but he follows me, trapping me between his arms.

God, I love this man.

“And,” He continues as if I’m not writhing beneath him and choking on my own laughter, though he does lessen up a bit so I can breathe. “And some day, Bryn Alexander, I intend to tell the entire world about you.”