(No Control - 49. More Than This, second part)

We go straight upstairs when we arrive home, and I switch some music on in the bedroom to add to the atmosphere. I'm feeling romantic.

Thinking Out Loud is playing, and it couldn't be more perfect.

Fucking hell, I don't want her to go home. I'm going to miss her so much.

"This week has been amazing," she says softly as I sit on the edge of the bed and kick my boots off.

"Yeah, it has," I sigh, and I take a deep breath. "Idontwantyoutogo," I say in a rush.

"I don't want to go, either," she says, looking down at the floor.

My heart jumps.

"Then don't," I say, and she looks up me. "Stay."

"What?"

"Stay another week," I suggest. "We can change your ticket to next Saturday instead."

She smirks at me, like she's trying not to laugh.

Why is that funny? I feel stupid.

"What's funny?" I ask.

"Come on let me change your ticket home," she sings.

For fuck's sake.

"Sorry," she grins. "But I can't, I've got work on Monday."

So dismissive.

"So call in sick," I offer. "Or book another week off."

She stares at me for a moment, her mouth slightly open.

"Oh... Harry, I wish I could, really I do, but I can't," she stammers.

"You mean you don't want to," I say, pettily, before I can stop myself.

"What? Of course I do," she says, but her eyes are on my chest, not my face. "Of course I want to stay with you."

"Ok, so stay."

Seems simple enough to me.

"I can't, Harry," she sighs. "It's not that simple...."

Here come the excuses. I should have known better than to believe she cares.

"I can't just take a holiday at short notice like that," she continues. "Other people are off next week so I'm needed back in the office. I know it sounds like I'm making excuses but I promise I'm not. If I could, of course I would stay."

She's entitled to paid time off isn't she? Sounds like a excuse to me.

"Harry," she says softly as I turn away and yank my shirt over my head moodily. Her arms slide around my waist and immediately my skin breaks out in goosebumps.

"I.. I'm not messing you around," she murmurs against my back.

I stay still, my heart rate increasing as I sense she is going to say something else.

"I like you," she practically whispers.

My heart lurches as I let out my breath and lift my arm up so she can duck under it. She hugs my chest and mumbles, "Don't think I don't care, because I do. I really really do."

Finally. Finally, she is opening up to me.

I don't want to scare her off. I need to tread lightly here.

"I really do too," I murmur into her hair, holding her tight.

"I'm scared of getting hurt," she says suddenly, still not looking at me.

"By me?" I ask, shocked, and she nods.

Why on earth does she think that?

"What..? I'm not going to hurt you, Jess," I assure her, but she doesn't lift her head. Her cheek remains firmly pressed against my chest.

I pull my head back and look down at her, eventually having to tilt her head up with my finger.

"Look at me," I urge, and her eyes finally meet mine. "I'm not going to hurt you," I repeat.

"Maybe not intentionally," she whispers.

"What do you mean?"

What does she think I'm going to do?

"Harry, you could have any girl you want," she says sadly. "I'm not a model, or a singer, or anyone particularly exciting. What happens when you get bored of me, and click your fingers at the next pretty face waiting in front of the stage..."

She trail off and I stare at her, hardly believing my ears.

"You think I'm that fickle?" I protest.

I'm almost offended, but I know she's not trying to hurt me; she's just being honest. Opening up to me. At long last.

"No... I don't know... I..."she trails off again, and takes a deep breath before continuing. "There are always going to be women throwing themselves at you and I don't think I can go through the humiliation of reading about the latest kiss and tell on the Daily Mail and having cameras shoved in my face capturing my reaction."

I can't believe she thinks I would do this. I can't believe she can't tell I am into her. More than I have ever been into anyone. Ever.

"Just because a girl throws herself at me doesn't mean I'm going to go there," I try and explain. "Not if I thought..."

Not if I thought you were waiting for me at home, is what I nearly say.

"I mean..." I try and change tack. "I'm not man whore," I finish.

I'm not articulating myself very well here, am I?

"I didn't mean that. I'm not trying to insult you," she says, hastily. "I'm trying to say I understand you're surrounded by temptation constantly. You're only human and I don't blame you for giving in - why wouldn't you? It's not a bad thing."

What is she trying to say? Is she encouraging me to sleep around? Doesn't she understand that I don't want to, now I've met her?

"But I don't know if I can put myself in the situation where I know it will bother me to hear about it," she continues. "I don't expect you not to be a lad on tour. You're young, free and single and you're having the time of your life."

Single.

Now I'm even more confused.

It will upset her to think of me with other people, yet she's telling me to do it?

"I just don't think I can deal with hearing about it," she finishes, and suddenly I think I get it. She's trying not to put pressure on me to give this situation a label. Fucking hell.

I need to be sure I've got this right, before I lay my cards on the table.

"Why not?" I ask, holding my breath and staring into her eyes.

"Because... because I like you," she says, and her voice is all high-pitched and squeaky. "Like, a lot. Really really a lot."

My heart is galloping now, so hard I know it's visible.

How much does she like me?

Fucking hell.

Is she in love with me?

"What are you saying?" I whisper, but she just stares at me without answering.

I think she is. Fuck. Is she?

I don't know how I feel about this. This is happening so fast.

I don't know how I feel about her. I can't be in love with her; it's too soon. We hardly know each other. I've made this mistake before and it didn't end well. I can't rush this. I don't want to rush this.

I don't know what to do.

Instinct takes over, and I lean forward and kiss her gently, holding her close to me with my palm in the small of her back. She pulls my hips against hers and then hurriedly unbuttons my jeans and tries to tug them down.

No. I don't want to rush any of this. I want to make love to her, slowly and gently. I want to savour these last few hours we have together.

I pull her hands away and bring them around my waist and hold them there behind my back. She pushes her hips against mine, nudging my growing erection, but instead of urgency, I just feel calm.

"Jess... what's the rush?" I whisper.

"I want you," she whispers back, pressing her nails into my skin and sending a jolt of pleasure to my dick.

"Slow down," I urge softly, cupping her face in my hands. "We've got all night."

I don't want anyone else. I don't want you to want anyone else. I want us to be... us.

I want to say these things out loud, but the thought makes my heart thud again, so I kiss her softly and slowly, running my hands through her silky hair before grabbing the zip of her dress between my thumb and forefinger and gently pulling it down. I stroke her bare back with my fingertips and she shudders against me.

I lift her dress up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor. I press my lips to her neck and she sighs softly in my ear. The sound sends shivers down my spine. I wrap my arm around her and pull her upper body against mine so our skin is touching, and my heart is still pounding with nerves.

I can feel that connection again. The electricity is flowing between us, sending our emotions back and forth, making me crazy with desire.

She pulls me back gently, and I lay her down on the bed, moving over her so I am lying between her legs with my forearms underneath her, my fingers curled gently around her shoulders. She lifts her legs up and wraps them around me as our lips touch softly.

This closeness is intense. It's incredible. It's never felt like this before.

I moan against her mouth as she tickles my back gently, and she tries again to pull my jeans down. This time I don't stop her. Her hands tug at my boxers but I pull them away. I don't want her to touch me yet. I want to make her come first.

"So impatient," I smile as she wrestles her hand free and slips it inside my boxers.

"Come on," she pleads, and groans when I pull it away again.

"Just wait," I whisper, and I lower my head to kiss in between her breasts as I unfasten her bra.

She's panting now. Literally.

"Damn it, Harry, don't turn me on like this and then tell me to wait!" she breathes. "Fuck."

Fuck?

That's the last thing I want to do. I want this to be meaningful.

"That's just it, I don't want to," I whisper, and I slide my hand deftly down her front and into her knickers.

"Don't want to what?" she gasps as I slide one finger inside her.

Oh, God, she's so wet.

I lift my face to look into her eyes. "I don't want to fuck," I whisper. Even just saying that word right now seems crass. That word doesn't describe what we do; what I want to do right now.

She looks at me with a worried expression, and I kiss her again, so gently, trying to reassure her.

"Wh... why not?" she asks, with trepidation.

She's not getting it. How can she not understand?

"I want to make love," I whisper.

---***---

We were at another 1D concert last night in Newcastle, front row again. I got Louis' water bottle this time and a cheeky wave from Harry. Follow me on Twitter @scooby_snacks94 to see the pictures and videos I took!! :)