London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “I can’t?” I urge, going along with him.

  “Seemingly not. I thought, another second longer, and you might try to rip my clothes off, right here in class.”

  My eyes flare at his statement.

  And then I hear someone clearing their throat.

  I turn my head, my eyes connecting with the guy in the chair next to me. And I instantly know that I wasn’t the only one to hear Harry’s statement.

  I swallow hard, not sure what to say, but then Harry’s hands are back on my chin, turning my head forward again.

  “You always look at me like that,” he whispers, his lips at my ear. “Like last night, for example, when you came out of the house. I thought you wanted to roll around in the bushes, right then and there.”

  “Stop,” I whisper, flushing even more.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I want you too, you know.”

  I turn around fully, searching Harry’s eyes. He’s looking back at me seriously, his head tilted to the side.

  “I really wish I could kiss you right now,” he says.

  I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out.

  I can’t think of anything to say. Because I really wish I could kiss Harry right now too.

  And the thought scares me a little.

  I want to tell him that he’s right.

  That I’ve been thinking about doing more with him.

  That when I came out of the house, if we had been alone, in his room and not in the street, more would have happened.

  And every time I feel like I have Harry figured out, he surprises me. I thought when he asked me to be his girlfriend, it was sort of out of desperation. Not that he didn’t mean it, but that he asked because he thought it would mean something to me.

  But I’m starting to wonder if he really, actually wants that.

  I’m not sure what I expected this week.

  Maybe I thought that things would go back to the way they had been before the drama with Harry and his family. To us liking one another but keeping it fun and flirty. But after our talk, things aren’t just fun anymore.

  When I look into Harry’s eyes, I’m hoping to figure out exactly what I’m feeling.

  I thought maybe we had a deep friendship or maybe lust or that I just really enjoyed kissing him or liked our banter. Every time I look at him, I try to figure out what I’m feeling, but I can’t place it. Because it’s all of those things. And each time we talk or kiss or go on a date or hang out, every part keeps growing.

  Our friendship.

  Our romance.

  Our … want for one another.

  And the amount of feelings I have for him … it isn’t scary exactly, but it’s a little overwhelming.

  And I feel like, at some point, I’m just going to explode.

  Because when Harry’s kissing me, I don’t want to stop.

  “It looks like you’ve just figured out your entire life in your head,” Harry says, cutting into my thoughts.

  Instead of looking serious or concerned, he’s just grinning.

  “I’m not sure about my whole life. But I am thinking about a lot,” I admit.

  I don’t know if I should be mortified that I was just in my head for so long or that I was thinking all those things about Harry while he was right next to me. Either way.

  “Anything you care to share?” he asks.

  “I really like you,” I say, taking his hand in mine. I run my thumb across his pinkie, feeling his ring under my finger.

  “I like you too,” Harry replies, his lips pulling at the corner. “I mean … just a little.”

  “Sure.” I smile back but roll my eyes at him.

  “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have put that on you, especially in the hallway,” he says, shaking his head.

  “It’s okay. We needed that talk.”

  “I think it cleared some things up for me. Though seeing the way you looked at me when I came in class would have done that anyway,” he says in a sultry tone.

  “And how did I look at you?” I ask, raising my eyebrows, but the sound of the door closing pulls me out of the conversation.

  Mr. Pritchard stands beside his desk and says, “Please, everyone, open up your textbooks to page 215.”

  “Ugh,” I hear Harry grumble behind me. I glance back at him. “I’m never going to get over the image that Mohammad put in our heads this morning,” he whispers, nodding his head in Mr. Pritchard’s direction.

  I smile, turning back around in my seat.

  All worked up.

  4pm

  After Geography, Harry walks me back to my locker.

  He places his hand on the locker beside me. “Come to my house?”

  “I can’t tonight,” I reply, thinking about Naomi coming over in a few hours.

  “Just for a bit,” Harry says, leaning in closer to me. “Noah said something about having to talk to Coach Carson after school. So, I can’t send you off to walk home alone, now can I?”

  “Instead, you ask me to walk you home?” I laugh.

  “Well, I happen to know that Helen will be at your house while, at my house, no one is home,” he replies, leaning in even closer.

  I can smell his cologne all around me, and he laces his fingers through mine.

  “You have a point,” I say, rubbing my fingers against his hand. Harry looks at me like he’s waiting for my answer, and I roll my eyes, giving in. “Fine. But I have to text Helen first and let her know we’re going to study for a bit.”

  Harry drapes his arm over my shoulders, walking alongside me as we make our way out of school.

  Leaving campus, we turn a corner, going a few blocks down until we get into a more quiet, residential neighborhood.

  “Are we actually going to study?” Harry asks, placing a kiss on my cheek.

  “Well, I’m not sure. How are you doing in your classes?”

  “Classes are shit, as usual. My marks match,” he replies.

  “Harry,” I scold.

  “Please, no speech on you can do better or I see your potential. I get enough of that from the school counselor, my mum, and, well, each and every one of my professors.”

  I glance over at him, taking in his relaxed demeanor.

  “You can do better,” I say.

  Because he can.

  “Tell you what,” Harry says, looking over at me. “You dress up as a hot tutor, and I’ll study.”

  “That’s all it will take?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

  “That’s all it will take.”

  “And what if I wanted to study tonight?”

  “That would be such a travesty. See, I can think of a much better use of our time,” he says, stopping me on the sidewalk and pulling me to his lips.

  I kiss him back, letting his hand sit at my waist.

  “And what if I wanted to study,” I continue, breaking our lips apart, “but for every question you answered correctly, I stripped off a piece of clothing? Would you be interested in studying then?”

  Harry’s blue eyes shine, a grin forming on his face.

  “See, I knew you were smart,” he says, pointing at me. “If only my tutors had thought of that form of studying before. I think I’d be a proper good student if that’s how I was taught to learn.”

  “I’m sure,” I reply with a smile. “Harry, where is your mom?” I ask, remembering what he said this morning. “I thought she was still home until Friday.”

  “There’s some fundraiser going on tonight. She messaged and said she’d be out for the evening. Hair and makeup and all that,” he comments, looking a little upset about it.

  “That sucks.”

  Harry shrugs. “I didn’t expect anything different. She just got back Sunday, but I could tell she was itching to get out. I think we’ve had a bit too much silence in the house recently.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I was raised in an empty house. It’s nothing new,” Harry says as we get to the front of his
home.

  He puts the key into the lock, opening the front door.

  “Well,” I reply, aching for him to smile, “you aren’t in an empty house now.”

  I grin at him and bite my lip as he closes the door.

  “You’re right,” he says, taking a step closer to me, pushing me up against the front door. “I’m definitely not alone now.”

  Harry’s lips move onto my neck, and he kisses his way from my jaw down to my collarbone.

  “Come on,” he says, grabbing on to my hand and dragging me up the stairs.

  He leads me into his bedroom, practically throwing me onto the bed before climbing on top of me.

  I lace my fingers around his neck, pulling him down to my lips.

  He trails kisses down my jaw, his fingers working at the buttons of my shirt.

  “Finally,” he says when he gets all the buttons undone.

  I sit up and pull off my shirt, but Harry easily pushes me back down onto the bed, his fingers trailing across my chest to my waist.

  He lowers his soft lips onto mine, sending goose bumps across my exposed skin.

  “This is nice,” I admit, moving my lips off of his and across his cheek.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he whispers while kissing my ear.

  “Yeah?” I ask, connecting our gaze.

  Harry nods before shrugging. “I really like you, Mallory.”

  “What do you like about me?” I tease, looking down at his shirt and deciding that it definitely needs to come off.

  “I like how sweet you are,” he says, watching my fingers work on his buttons.

  “Sweet?” I ask. “I’m not sure anyone would describe me as that.”

  “You are sweet,” he replies, bringing his finger under my chin. “You like to act all strong and tough. But deep down, you’re sensitive.”

  “Really?” I ask again, wondering if he’s right.

  Harry nods at me, pulling me back against his lips.

  When his shirt is unbuttoned, I pull it off over his arms, revealing his firm chest. I press my fingers into his warm skin, enjoying the heat rising from him.

  I let my hands dance down across his stomach, moving across the skin above his belt.

  Harry kisses me harder, pulling me flat against him. He unhooks my bra, his fingers gliding across my chest.

  “Your skin’s so soft,” he whispers.

  I just nod, pulling him back to my lips.

  I open my mouth, letting his tongue dance with my own.

  My hands slip up into his hair as he grabs the back of my neck, holding on to me as I deepen our kiss.

  We kiss for a long time, but I’m aching for more.

  I pull away and turn onto my side, my fingers moving to the zipper on my skirt.

  “Mallory,” Harry says, his blue eyes seeping into mine. He brings his hand onto my face, his fingers resting on my cheek.

  “Take off my skirt,” I instruct.

  I don’t give him a chance to say anything else or ask questions.

  I press my lips back against his, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  Harry pulls at my zipper, getting it down before rolling me onto my back, and then he sits up at my feet.

  I watch his chest rise and fall as he looks over me.

  He slides my skirt off and then hooks his fingers around the waist of my tights. He slowly pulls them down my legs until I’m lying in his bed in nothing but my underwear.

  “Come here,” I say, wanting to feel Harry’s body pressing against mine.

  He shifts so that he’s lying back on top of me. His tongue parts my lips as his hand runs up and down my exposed thigh.

  I moan into his mouth, the feeling of his hand against my bare skin almost liberating.

  “Fuck, Mallory,” he says, pulling away.

  Harry is practically panting, and I know he’s trying to have some restraint, but I just pull him back to my lips, letting my hips rise up to meet his.

  He responds by grinding against me, his naked stomach pressing against mine.

  He roughly drags his hand across my hips, but when he starts to move it upward from my stomach, I grab on to it, stopping him.

  “What?” he says, looking down at me, his blue eyes clouded and his cheeks flushed.

  I like seeing him get all worked up.

  Because I can tell that, right now, he isn’t thinking about anything other than me and how good we feel together.

  I guide his hand down my stomach and to the edge of my underwear.

  “If you want to,” I say, but the second the words leave my lips, his hand dips further under the fabric.

  He brings his lips back down onto mine and slides his hand between my legs. His fingers move against me, causing my belly to tighten at the sensation.

  I try to relax. I try not to push. I need to enjoy every moment of this, but all I want to do is press closer to him.

  Every single part of me wants more.

  I pull him closer, feeling my body rise toward his hand, and when I open my mouth against his, I’m hoping that he’ll slip his tongue into it.

  Hoping that he’ll give me more.

  And when he finally does slide his tongue in, his finger does the same.

  I moan, kissing him harder.

  I can’t help but drag my hands up his chest and over his shoulders. I wrap my fingers into his hair as feelings build within me.

  My hands are everywhere on him, but they ache to be in one place.

  I slide my hands down his hard stomach, fumbling with the button on his pants.

  “Is this okay?” I whisper.

  I feel Harry smile against my lips, and a second later, he’s helping me with the button, undoing his zipper, and sliding out of his pants.

  My fingers dance against the edge of his boxers.

  And for a minute, I feel nervous.

  But more than that, I feel excitement.

  I don’t have much time to think about it though because Harry’s lips are back on mine, his hand gliding back between my legs.

  I slip my hand into his boxers, feeling all of him.

  Goose bumps rise across my skin as I move my fingers against him.

  Harry moans against my lips as his free hand skims over my ribs.

  It’s like my whole body can feel the rhythm of Harry’s fingers, and it has my chest pounding. My heart practically beating in a rhythmic sync.

  I become breathless, curling against him, aching to be closer.

  Harry wraps his hand around my waist as waves of emotions flood through me.

  My mouth falls open at the sensation, and I bury my face into his neck.

  “Fuck,” Harry whispers in my ear, his breath catching.

  His whole body tenses against me—and I mean, all of him.

  A minute later, he rolls onto his back in bed next to me.

  I glance over at him, watching his chest rise and fall just as quickly as mine.

  “Wow,” I breathe out, looking up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath.

  Harry laces his fingers through mine.

  “That was definitely better than studying,” I say with a laugh. “I might be coming around to your way of thinking.”

  “I told you,” Harry says, rolling onto his side. He takes me with him, so our faces are close, almost touching.

  I study him, taking in his swollen lips, flushed skin, and tousled blond hair.

  “You did,” I agree, bringing his hand up to my lips, kissing it gently.

  “You’re amazing,” Harry states, pushing my hair behind my ear. His eyes drop down to my exposed chest, running across my torso and back up again.

  I blush under his gaze, realizing how close to fully naked we both are.

  “You’re embarrassed?” Harry asks, pinching my chin.

  “I’m practically naked in your bed,” I reply, biting my lip. Because, in the heat of the moment, I barely noticed.

  It’s not that I didn’t want this, I did.

 
But I got so wrapped up in kissing Harry and the feeling of his hands on me that I almost forgot how intimate this was.

  Lying here, shirtless and breathless together.

  “I told you from the start, you would be.” He grins sheepishly.

  I roll my eyes in response, but Harry pulls me to his lips anyway.

  He presses his hands into my cheeks and kisses me softly, his thumb rubbing across my skin.

  “I feel amazing,” I admit, blinking a few times, trying to bring myself back down to earth.

  “You did feel amazing,” he whispers, his lips still pressing against mine.

  And I feel like my heart might fly out of my chest at his words.

  At how I’m feeling.

  At how soft his hands are on my cheeks.

  When Harry breaks his lips apart from mine, I feel dazed and extremely relaxed.

  I glance over at his clock, having to do a double take at the time.

  “It’s a quarter to six,” I say, surprised as reality hits me.

  I sit up, remembering that I told Helen I would be back by six to do my homework before Naomi came over.

  “I’ll call my driver,” Harry says, sitting up with me.

  “I always forget you have a driver.” I laugh, remembering what Harry said on our first date.

  “Yeah, sometimes, I forget too.” Harry chuckles. “I prefer walking.”

  “It’s nice to have both options,” I admit, thinking about my family’s own driver back in New York.

  I sling my feet off the bed, grabbing at my tights and skirt. I pull them back up my legs before zipping my skirt into place. I throw on my shirt, buttoning it up before walking into the bathroom. There, I check my makeup, making sure I don’t have any mascara under my eyes, and pat down my hair.

  When I get back into Harry’s room, he’s sitting up in bed but still in just his boxers.

  He stands up, wrapping his arms around me, pressing his cheek against mine. It’s a sweet, gentle hug.

  “Are you okay to stay here tonight?” I ask, leaning back to look up at him.

  His blue eyes shift before connecting with mine. “Mum’s coming back later. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “I will anyway.”

  Harry exhales. “I’m usually home alone. I’m used to it. Besides, it will be good. Mum’s been around a lot lately, and it’s like I can feel her fucking presence everywhere.”