while she’s away — four (Patreon)

Authors note: hello everyone! From this point on things will start getting more interesting! Let me know what you think 😉

The bright sun had already cut through the slatted wooden blinds by the time Y/N opened her eyes.

In the dark of the previous night, the villa had felt like a stage built entirely for secrets, full of cool shadows, blue pool water, and whispered hesitations. But daylight was merciless. The harsh, gold morning light poured across the white linen sheets, illuminating every corner of the guest bedroom and stripping away the protective fog of midnight.

She lay completely still on her back, staring at the high white ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

Her body felt heavy, lingering in that strange state between sleep and sharp awareness. Every detail of the drive home remained fresh in her memory. She could still hear the low rumble of Harry’s SUV, still feel the prickle of heat across her skin when he asked if dancing was another thing he was supposed to be jealous of, and still see the way his jaw tightened when he refused to answer her question on the driveway.

I am glad you are safe.

It had been a deflection, a shield held up at the very last second to keep them from stepping over the edge.

Y/N let out a long breath, dragging her hands down her face. She needed to treat today like a normal day of vacation. Scarlett was not here, but Y/N was an adult guest in a private villa, and Harry was merely her host. If she acted as though nothing had shifted, perhaps the universe would take the hint and reset the balance.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the tiles shocking the soles of her bare feet. The humid air was already creeping in through the balcony vents, promising an afternoon of intense tropical heat.

Walking over to her suitcase, she pulled out a skimpy striped triangle bikini trimmed in pale cream borders. The fabric was patterned with fine bands of pink, olive, black, and white, cut daringly high on her hips with ultra-thin string ties that rested against her sun-kissed skin. It left almost nothing to the imagination, showing off the curve of her waist and the golden glow she had picked up over the last two days. She tied the halter strings behind her neck, catching her reflection in the full-length mirror as she adjusted the tiny triangle cups over her chest.

Her plan was simple. Sneak downstairs, grab a cold glass of water and a cup of coffee, and disappear out to the far sun loungers on the terrace before Harry even woke up.

She quietly turned the handle of her bedroom door and slipped into the hallway. The villa was completely silent, the high ceilings catching only the faint whisper of the ocean breeze through the open clerestory windows. She walked on the balls of her feet down the staircase, holding her breath as she rounded the final curve toward the ground floor.

The moment she stepped into the open-plan living room, the rich, bitter aroma of freshly ground espresso hit her nostrils.

Her heart gave an involuntary, frantic leap.

Harry was already awake.

He was standing at the kitchen island with his back turned to her, leaning both palms flat against the polished white marble as he waited for the espresso machine to finish its pour. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of navy swimming trunks and a faded white crewneck t-shirt that stretched cleanly across the broad expanse of his shoulders. His hair was messy from sleep, falling across his forehead in loose, dark waves that looked soft and unruly in the bright sunlight.

He looked completely domestic, completely relaxed, and entirely too magnetic for eight in the morning.

Y/N hesitated on the bottom step, considering an immediate retreat back up the stairs.

Before she could take a single step backward, Harry spoke.

"You don't have to hover on the stairs," he said smoothly, without even turning around.

Y/N froze, her hand still resting on the polished banister. "How did you even hear me?"

Harry turned around slowly, reaching for a small porcelain cup. A faint, knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips. "The floorboards near the third step creak. Scarlett used to try sneaking down for midnight snacks when she was fourteen. I know the sound."

Hearing Scarlett’s name was like an icy splash of water, a reminder of reality.

She walked into the kitchen with as much casual indifference as she could summon, taking a seat on one of the high wooden barstools across from the island.

"Good to know my stealth skills need work," she said, resting her forearms against the cool stone.

Harry set the small cup of dark coffee in front of her, the rich crema swirling on top. As he slid the saucer across the counter, his eyes drifted down.

He took in the loose drape of her open shirt, the bare expanse of her stomach, and the tiny striped bikini bottoms riding high on her hips with nothing more than delicate strings holding them in place. His gaze lingered on the narrow triangle top, tracking the deep curve of her neckline and the sun-warmed skin on display.

The movement of his gaze was quiet and heavy. His eyes darkened distinctly, his chest expanding with a slow, controlled breath before he deliberately forced his focus back up to her face.

"Black, right?" he asked, his voice noticeably lower and slightly gravelly.

"Yes, perfect. Thank you," she said, wrapping both hands around the warm ceramic cup just to give her fingers something to do.

Harry turned back to the counter to pour his own cup, but there was a subtle stiffness in his shoulders now that had not been there a moment before. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I expected," she lied easily, watching the muscles in his back shift as he reached for a glass of water. "The air conditioning in that room is incredible."

"Good," Harry said, leaning back against the edge of the counter with his cup in hand. He took a slow sip, looking down at her over the rim. The bright morning light caught the green in his eyes, making them appear startlingly clear. "No lingering headache from the drink with the paper umbrella?"

Y/N felt a heat rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun outside. "I only had the one. I told you, I was responsible."

"You did," he acknowledged, his mouth twitching with amusement. "Though you also told me you had a ride secured, and we both saw how that turned out."

"That was a logistical failure on behalf of the local infrastructure," she replied quickly, lifting her chin. "Not a failure of my planning."

Harry let out a quiet, genuine laugh, the sound rumbling pleasantly through the quiet kitchen. It was the first entirely relaxed sound he had made around her since she had arrived at the villa, and it caught her completely off guard.

"Logistical failure," he repeated, shaking his head. "You really do have an explanation for everything."

"It is a vital survival skill," she said, taking a sip of the bitter espresso. It was rich, hot, and instantly cleared the remaining fog from her mind. "Especially when dealing with people who like to say things like 'I told you so.'"

"I haven't said it yet," Harry pointed out, taking a step closer to the island, resting one elbow on the marble surface.

He was standing only a couple of feet away now. The clean scent of shower soap, dark roast coffee, and warm cedar drifted off him, enveloping her senses. It was far too intimate for a sunny morning in a brightly lit kitchen. Every rational instinct told her to stand up, grab her coffee, and walk out to the terrace, but her feet felt planted firmly on the floor.

"You haven't said it with words," she murmured, looking directly into his eyes. "Your face is saying it very loudly."

Harry tilted his head, studying her face with an intensity that made her pulse flutter in her throat. "Is it?"

"Very loudly," she confirmed, her voice dropping slightly.

Before Harry could answer, a loud, sharp vibration buzzed across the marble counter between them.

Y/N jumped slightly at the sudden noise.

Her phone screen lit up, displaying a new text message directly beside her elbow.

Anthony: Morning, Plane Girl. Any chance you’re free for a boat trip today?

The words were bright and unmistakable in the morning glare.

The easy, playful atmosphere that had just begun to settle between Y/N and Harry vanished in an instant.

Harry’s eyes dropped to the glowing screen, lingering on the name and the preview of the text for just a second too long. When he looked back up at her, the soft warmth in his expression had completely shuttered, replaced by the cool, polite reserve of a sensible adult who had just remembered where he was standing.

He pushed off the counter, straightening his posture as he picked up his mug.

"Sounds like your day is already planned," Harry said calmly, turning toward the glass doors leading to the terrace.

"Harry, wait," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

He paused near the threshold. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression perfectly controlled, giving away nothing.

"Take your time," he said, his tone entirely even, entirely guarded. "The sunscreen is in the cabinet by the door if you're going out on the water."

Without waiting for her reply, he stepped out into the blinding tropical sun, leaving her alone in the quiet kitchen with her cooling coffee and the persistent buzz of her phone.

Y/N stared at the empty doorway, the quiet rustle of the sheer drapes the only proof he had been standing there a second ago.

Her phone buzzed again on the marble counter, a second notification popping up under Anthony’s name.

Anthony: My buddy’s boat leaves from the marina at eleven. Let me know if you want a spot.

She looked at the text, then out through the glass sliders toward the terrace. Harry was standing near the edge of the stone patio, his back to the house, one hand buried in the pocket of his swimming trunks while he took a slow sip from his mug. His shoulders were set in a hard, rigid line against the backdrop of the turquoise sea.

He was retreating. Slipping back into the safe, responsible role of host, leaving her to go off with someone her own age so he wouldn't have to deal with whatever was happening between them.

A sudden flare of stubborn annoyance tightened Y/N's chest.

She picked up her phone and typed back quickly.

Y/N: Thanks for the invite, Anthony! But I’m sticking to the villa today. Have fun!

She hit send, locking the screen and setting it face down on the counter. If Harry thought a single text from another guy was going to flush her out of the house, he was mistaken.

Leaving her unfinished espresso on the island, Y/N walked down the short hallway to the cabinet by the front door. She grabbed the bottle of sunscreen, slipped her sunglasses onto the top of her head, and stepped out into the blinding Bahamian heat.

The stone pavers of the terrace were already warm beneath her bare feet. She didn't look directly at Harry as she crossed to the far side of the infinity pool, dragging a padded wooden lounge chair into the shade of a wide canvas umbrella.

Harry’s eyes followed her movement, though he didn't turn his head completely. He remained standing near the perimeter, watching out of the corner of his eye as she set her towel down, unbuttoned her loose white shirt, and let it slip off her shoulders.

The striped triangle bikini left her skin bare to the morning air. She poured a pool of sunscreen into her palm and began smoothing it over her legs, keeping her focus strictly on her work.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy with heat.

"Thought you were going out on the water," Harry said, his voice carrying clearly over the gentle lap of the pool water.

Y/N didn't look up as she rubbed the lotion over her knee. "Changed my mind."

"Anthony's boat trip sounded like a good way to see the island."

"I'm sure it is," she replied smoothly, reaching around to coat her shoulders. "But I preferred staying here."

Harry turned slightly, leaning his hip against the stone wall. His gaze lingered on the bare curve of her waist, the thin string ties resting against her hips, before dragging back up to her face. "You don't have to alter your plans on my account."

Y/N stopped, setting the sunscreen bottle down on the side table. She pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes and finally looked at him.

"I'm not," she said softly, tilting her head. "I'm doing exactly what I want to do."

Harry stared at her for a long second, his jaw working as if he wanted to argue, to push her away with another sensible piece of adult advice. But the words didn't come. Instead, he took a breath, looked down at his empty coffee cup, and nodded once.

"Right," he murmured.

He turned and walked back toward the shaded side of the patio, pulling out a heavy teak chair near a small outdoor desk where his laptop lay closed. He opened the screen, seating himself with his back partially turned to the pool, clearly intending to lose himself in work.

For the next two hours, the villa became a quiet arena of deliberate avoidance.

Harry typed on his keyboard, occasionally making short, low-voiced phone calls in sharp, concise English. But every time Y/N shifted on her lounger, every time the fabric of her chair creaked, or she sat up to reach for her water, or dangled her legs into the cool water of the pool, his typing paused. A heavy, unspoken awareness hung over the patio, vibrating through the muggy air like static before a storm.

Around noon, Y/N’s phone chimed with a incoming video call.

She picked it up, seeing Scarlett’s face on the screen, and answered immediately.

"Tell me you're at an airport," Y/N said, sitting up and pulling her hair into a messy topknot.

Scarlett’s face filled the screen, backgrounded by the bright, chaotic terminal of an airport departure lounge. "I am sitting at the gate right now!" Scarlett squealed, her voice crackling slightly through the speaker. "Flight leaves in forty minutes. I'll be in Nassau by five!"

Y/N's chest loosened, a wave of genuine relief washing over her. "Thank God. I missed you."

"I know, I know, I'm the worst," Scarlett laughed. "Is Dad around? Tell him the car service is already booked for the airport pick-up."

Y/N glanced across the pool. Harry had stopped typing. He was leaning back in his chair, looking over his shoulder toward her, his expression unreadable.

"He's right here," Y/N said, holding the phone out slightly. "He heard you."

"Hey, Dad!" Scarlett yelled through the speaker. "See you in a few hours! Don't let Y/N get sunburned!"

"I'm keeping an eye on her," Harry called back, his tone smooth and controlled, though his eyes remained locked onto Y/N.

"Great! See you guys soon!"

The call disconnected, leaving the terrace in sudden, ringing silence once again.

Scarlett would be here in five hours. The countdown had officially begun, drawing a hard, unyielding line across the rest of the day. Whatever unsaid tension had been building between them over the last forty-eight hours had an expiration date.

Y/N set her phone down on the table. She looked across the shimmering blue pool at Harry.

He hadn't turned back to his laptop. He was sitting perfectly still in the teak chair, his dark eyes fixed on her, the quiet restraint that usually guarded his face cracking just enough for her to see the dark, turbulent heat underneath.

"Five hours," Y/N said softly.

Harry didn't answer. He just looked at her, his pulse ticking visibly in the side of his neck as the wind rustled the palm leaves above them.

Five hours.

The words echoed in his head, less like a reminder and more like a threat. For the first time since Y/N had arrived, the impenetrable wall of his restraint didn't just crack. It shattered.

He stared blindly at the screen of his laptop, the lines of text blurring into a meaningless gray smudge. He hadn't processed a single word in two hours. Every ounce of his concentration, every frayed nerve in his body, was fixed entirely on the lounge chair across the pool.

It was a special kind of torture.

He watched a drop of condensation roll down the side of her water glass as she reached for it. His eyes tracked the movement of her hand, the arch of her spine, the way the blinding Bahamian sunlight caught the golden flush of her skin. Those thin, ridiculous strings tied at her hips looked like they would give way with a single, sharp tug. He had spent the entire morning gripping his coffee mug tightly, forcing himself not to think about exactly how easy it would be to untie them.

He was supposed to be the adult. He was supposed to be keeping a respectful, sensible distance.

But when her phone had buzzed with Anthony’s name, it had taken every shred of his willpower not to walk over and hurl the device into the deep end of the pool. And when she had typed out her rejection, choosing to stay here at the villa with him instead of going out on that boat, the surge of dark, possessive triumph that hit his chest had nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Across the patio, Y/N let out a soft, frustrated sigh. She was twisting her arm awkwardly, trying and failing to smooth a patch of white sunscreen between her shoulder blades.

Harry’s jaw locked.

The last fragile thread snapped.

He didn't make a conscious decision to move. He simply pushed his laptop aside. The scrape of the heavy teak chair against the stone pavers was violently loud in the quiet air.

Y/N froze, her hand still suspended over her back, as his shadow fell over her.

He didn't ask. He simply reached down, his large hand wrapping around the plastic bottle of sunscreen, taking it right out of her grip.

"Turn around," he murmured.

His voice didn't sound like his own. It was rough, thick, and stripped completely bare of the polite distance he had been clinging to all morning.

Y/N looked up at him, her lips parted in shock, the pulse visibly jumping at the base of her throat. She slowly turned over onto her stomach, burying her face into her folded arms.

Harry dropped to one knee beside the lounger. The tropical sun beat down on his shoulders, heating his dark, straight hair where it was pushed back from his forehead, but he barely felt it. All he could feel was the intoxicating, terrifying gravity pulling him toward her.

He squeezed the cool lotion into his palm. His chest was tight to the point of aching.

"Harry," she started, her voice barely a breath.

"Quiet," he said softly.

The moment his hands finally made contact with the bare, burning heat of her back, a ragged exhale tore from his throat. His palms were wide and firm, smoothing the lotion over the delicate slope of her shoulders and down the deep curve of her spine. He felt her shiver beneath his touch, a powerful tremor that sent a spike of raw electricity straight to his core.

His thumbs traced the edges of the tiny triangle top, pressing deliberately into the warm skin just beneath the strings. He leaned in closer, his chest brushing the edge of the lounger, the scent of coconut and her skin completely overwhelming his senses.

He wasn't going to survive five hours.

He pulled his hands away so fast the absence of his touch felt like a physical shock.

Harry stood up abruptly. He did not look at her face. If he looked at her he knew exactly what would happen. Instead he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one sharp movement. He tossed it onto the empty chair. He stood there in just a pair of dark swim trunks. The muscles in his back were tight as he walked straight toward the edge of the patio.

He dove into the deep end of the pool without a single word.

The splash shattered the heavy silence. Y/N sat up. Her skin was still burning where his palms had been. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs.

At first the old embarrassment rushed in. She reached for her loose white shirt feeling exposed. She pulled it over her shoulders to hide. He was running away again. He was building the wall back up and retreating into the role of the responsible host who was just trying to keep things simple.

But then she watched him surface on the far side of the pool. He dragged both hands through his wet straight hair. He let out a long ragged breath. His chest heaved as he treaded water. He looked completely wrecked.

He was not running away because he was indifferent. He was running away because he was losing his mind.

The realization clicked into place. The heavy weight of her morning insecurity suddenly vanished. Why was she hiding under a linen shirt when he was the one falling apart? She was tired of the mixed signals. She was tired of the way he took two steps forward and then sprinted backward the second things felt too real.

Y/N slowly let the white shirt slide off her shoulders. It pooled on the cushions behind her.

She stood up and walked to the edge of the water. The tropical sun beat down on her bare skin. She did not hesitate this time. She sat on the edge and slipped into the shallow end. The cool water swallowed the heat of the air but it did nothing to cool the sudden fire in her veins.

Harry went perfectly still in the deep end. His dark eyes locked onto her.

"What are you doing?" he asked. His voice was rough.

"Swimming," she answered simply.

She waded deeper into the pool. The water rose to her waist and then to her chest. She kept her eyes entirely on him. The defensive snark was gone. In its place was a quiet stubborn certainty.

"You were just putting your shirt on."

"I changed my mind."

She stopped a few feet away from him. The water lapped gently between them.

"You are hiding," she said softly.

Harry clenched his jaw. "I am cooling off."

"You are hiding," she repeated. She tilted her head studying the tight lines of his face. "You touched me and it panicked you. So you jumped in the pool to get away."

His eyes flared. The directness of it caught him completely off guard.

"I am trying to be responsible," he said. The words sounded like a weak defense even to him.

"I am so tired of that word," Y/N whispered.

She took another step closer. The water rippled around them. He did not move away.

"Y/N," he breathed. The word sounded like a desperate plea over the gentle slap of the water. "Stop."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because you do not know what you are doing to me."

"I think I do." She did not break eye contact.

Harry closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. When he opened them the restraint was cracking right down the middle. He looked at her mouth and then back up to her eyes.

"If you come any closer," he warned with his voice dropping so low she felt it in her chest, "I am not going to be the responsible host anymore. I am not going to keep my distance and I am certainly not going to stop."

Y/N felt her pulse hammer wildly in her throat. She did not feel afraid. She felt a thrilling rush of absolute certainty.

"I do not want you to stop."

She shifted her weight to take the final step.

A sharp electronic ring shattered the quiet air.

They both froze. The sound echoed off the stone patio being loud and sudden and entirely unwelcome. It was Harrys phone vibrating aggressively on the teak table next to his discarded laptop.

The heavy spell broke instantly. Reality rushed back in like cold air.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. A harsh breath escaped his lips as he dropped his head back. For a split second Y/N thought he might ignore it and pull her in anyway. But the phone kept ringing and the real world demanded his attention.

He took a step backward. The movement sent a wave of water washing between them and pushing them physically apart.

"I have to take that." His voice was tight and completely stripped of the dangerous warmth from a moment ago.

Y/N nodded slowly while wrapping her arms around her own waist beneath the water. "Of course."

Harry turned and waded to the edge of the pool. He hoisted himself out with a fluid flex of his shoulders. Water streamed down his back and over his dark straight hair as he walked to the table. He did not look back at her. He picked up the phone and ran a hand over his face before swiping to answer.

"Yes." He spoke briskly. His tone shifted immediately back into the sharp and authoritative architect she had heard earlier. "I told them the load bearing columns on the west side cannot be moved. It compromises the entire ground floor layout."

Y/N stayed in the water. The heat in her veins had cooled leaving her feeling exposed and entirely alone in the shallow end. She watched him pace near the edge of the terrace while he argued about structural integrity. He was back in his world and she was just a guest floating in his pool.

Harry eventually ended the call with a clipped goodbye and slid the phone into his pocket.

He did not look back toward the pool. He walked straight through the open glass doors and into the kitchen. He was retreating again. He was building the wall back up by finding a practical task to drown out the yearning.

Y/N let out a slow breath and waded toward the shallow end stairs. The warm tropical air hit her wet skin as she climbed out of the water. She did not bother grabbing her white shirt from the lounger. If he wanted to run away to the kitchen she was not going to make it easy for him by covering up.

She padded barefoot across the warm stone terrace and stepped into the cool shade of the villa.

Harry was standing at the kitchen island. He had pulled a wooden board from a cabinet and was aggressively slicing vegetables. He still wore only his dark swim trunks. His wetpushed back as he worked.

"Lunch?" Y/N asked leaning against the counter opposite him.

Harry paused his knife for a fraction of a second. His gaze flicked up to her face then deliberately dropped back to the board. He was trying with monumental effort to ignore the tiny bikini she was wearing.

"Yes" he said keeping his voice perfectly even. "I thought we should eat."

"Right."

She walked around the island to stand beside him. The kitchen was spacious but the moment she entered his immediate orbit the air felt heavy again.

"Can I help?" she offered.

"I have it handled" Harry replied chopping a red pepper with intense precision.

"I can slice tomatoes. I am incredibly skilled with vegetables."

Harry let out a rough sigh and slid a small knife across the marble counter toward her. "Do not cut your fingers off."

"I make no promises."

Y/N reached across him to grab a tomato from the wooden bowl. Her bare arm brushed his bare shoulder.

Harry went completely rigid. He stopped cutting entirely.

She stepped back into her spot and began slicing the tomato. Water dripped from the ends of her wet hair onto her collarbones tracking slowly down her chest toward the thin string of her bikini top.

Harry looked.

He tried not to but he looked. His dark eyes traced the single drop of water as it fell. The muscle in his jaw jumped. He swallowed hard and gripped the edge of the marble counter with his free hand to steady himself.

"You are dripping all over the floor" his voice was significantly deeper than it had been a minute ago.

"It is just water."

"You should put a shirt on."

"I am not cold."

"That is not the point Y/N."

"Then what is the point?" she asked turning her head to look up at him.

"The point" he murmured leaning just an inch closer "is that you are testing my patience."

Y/N felt her heart hammer wildly against her ribs but she refused to back down. She reached for her favorite defense mechanism instead. She looked back down at her cutting board with wide and innocent eyes.

"I am literally just slicing a tomato" she said smoothly. "I do not know why that requires a dress code."

"You are standing in my kitchen wearing practically nothing and expecting me to act like I do not notice."

"I am just making lunch." She picked up another tomato and placed it on the board. "If you cannot handle basic food preparation because I am in a bikini that sounds like a you problem."

Harry let out a rough and entirely frustrated breath.

"It is absolutely a me problem."

Y/N felt a thrill of victory warm her chest. She picked up the knife again and sliced another tomato with deliberate slowness.

"Well then," she said lightly. "I suggest you focus on the vegetables. I would hate for Scarlett to come back and find out you starved yourself because you were intimidated by swimwear."

Harry let out a low noise that sounded like a laugh strangled by frustration. He picked up his knife again but he did not look at the peppers on his wooden board. He looked at her hands.

"Intimidated is not the word I would use," he murmured. His voice was rough and entirely too close.

"No?" Y/N tilted her head keeping her eyes on the tomato. "What word would you use?"

"Distracted."

"That sounds like an excuse for bad kitchen skills."

"Y/N."

The way he said her name sent a fresh shiver down her spine. It was a warning and a surrender at the exact same time.

She finally looked up at him. "Yes?"

"If you bump into me one more time I am going to throw this entire salad into the ocean."

She gasped softly pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. "I am trying to help you prepare a meal. You are being hostile."

"I am being pushed to my absolute limit."

"You are being dramatic."

She reached across the counter to grab a cloth towel. She made sure her bare arm brushed against his chest as she did it.

Harry dropped his knife. It clattered loudly against the marble.

He turned his body fully toward her pinning her in place with a look so dark and heavy it stole the breath right out of her lungs. He reached out and caught her wrist before she could pull her hand back. His fingers were warm and firm against her wet skin.

"You think this is a game," he said softly. His thumb traced the inside of her wrist where her pulse was jumping frantically.

"I am just making lunch," she whispered. Her sarcastic shield was completely failing her now.

"You are going to drive me insane."

He stepped closer forcing her to lean back against the edge of the island. The cool marble pressed against her spine but all she could feel was the intense heat radiating off his chest. His wet straight hair fell forward shadowing his eyes as he looked down at her mouth.

"Is that a threat?" she asked breathlessly recalling their conversation from earlier this morning.

"It is a promise," he answered.

He stepped into her space completely. The cool marble pressed against Y/N's spine but the heat radiating from his chest was entirely overwhelming. A wet strand of his hair brushed her forehead as he lowered his head. His eyes dropped to her lips and stayed there.

Y/N forgot how to breathe. She forgot about the tomato and the knife and the bright tropical sun outside. She tilted her chin up.

Harry let go of her wrist. His hands moved to the counter on either side of her hips trapping her in place. His chest rose and fell in heavy and ragged breaths. He leaned in so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

"Harry," she whispered.

The sound of his name seemed to shatter whatever spell was pulling him under. He froze. His eyes flickered up to hers and the sheer desperation in them was heartbreaking. He did not close the final inch. Instead he rested his forehead against hers and let out a broken exhale.

"I cannot do this," he whispered with a voice thick with agony. "Scarlett"

The words hung in the air being heavy and immovable. They were the exact words she had used repeatedly to try and keep her own feelings in check. Hearing them spoken aloud from his mouth felt like a punch in her gut.

Before Y/N could find a single word to say a loud hiss erupted from the stove behind him.

A thick cloud of grey smoke suddenly plumed into the air carrying the sharp and bitter smell of burning oil and garlic from the pan he had abandoned.

Harry swore loudly. The heavy tension broke violently. He spun around and grabbed a kitchen towel off the counter. He pulled the smoking skillet off the burner and dropped it into the stainless steel sink where it sizzled aggressively.

Y/N stayed pressed against the island. Her heart was beating so hard it actually hurt her ribs.

Harry braced both hands on the edge of the sink with his back to her. The muscles in his shoulders were pulled completely taut. He kept his head bowed staring down at the ruined food.

"Lunch is ruined," he said. His voice was flat and completely stripped of the dangerous heat from a moment ago.

"It is fine," Y/N managed to say though her voice trembled slightly.

"It is not fine." He turned his head just enough to look at her over his shoulder. His jaw was clenched tight. The impenetrable walls were slamming back into place. The responsible adult was returning because he simply had to. "I need to take a shower."

He walked out of the kitchen without another word leaving her alone with the lingering smoke, the sliced tomatoes, and the devastating knowledge of exactly how close they had just come.

Y/N did not stay in the kitchen. She left the smoke and the ruined lunch behind and walked straight back out onto the terrace.

The sun was still blindingly bright but she did not feel the heat. She felt entirely numb and overstimulated all at once. Her hands were still shaking as she picked up her mystery book and her headphones from the lounger.

She retreated to the far edge of the patio where a large woven daybed sat under the shade of a palm tree. She curled her knees to her chest and shoved her headphones into her ears. She turned the music up loud enough to drown out the sound of the ocean and the persistent hum of her own thoughts.

It did not work.

She stared at the open book on her lap. The words blurred together into meaningless shapes. The plot about a woman holding a bloody knife was entirely lost on her. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Harry leaning over her. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin and heard the desperate agony in his voice.

Scarlett

Her name played on a loop in her head. It was the ultimate boundary. It was the one fact they could never erase no matter how thick the tension between them grew. He had pulled away because he loved his daughter and because he was trying to be a good person. Y/N knew that was the right thing to do. But it still felt like her heart had been dragged over broken glass.

Two hours passed in agonizing slow motion.

Y/N stayed outside pretending to read. She saw Harry walk through the living room once wearing a fresh white shirt and dark trousers. He did not look toward the terrace. He went straight into his glass walled office and shut the door.

Around three in the afternoon the bright blue sky began to change.

It happened quickly the way tropical weather often did. The wind picked up first rustling the palm fronds violently and sending a sudden chill over her skin. The golden sunlight vanished as thick bruised clouds rolled in off the water. The horizon disappeared behind a wall of dark grey.

Y/N pulled her headphones out. The air felt incredibly heavy and charged with electricity.

A single fat drop of rain hit the screen of her phone.

Then the sky opened up completely.

It was not a gentle shower. It was a downpour that instantly soaked the stone pavers and turned the pool into a chaotic sea of splashing water.

Y/N gasped as the cold rain hit her bare shoulders. She grabbed her book and her phone and scrambled off the daybed. She ran across the terrace with her bare feet slipping slightly against the wet stone.

She threw herself through the open glass doors into the living room just as a loud crack of thunder shook the villa.

She stood in the middle of the pale stone floor dripping wet and breathing heavily.

"You are completely soaked."

Y/N jumped.

Harry was standing by the large table where he usually kept his architectural drawings. He had abandoned his work and was looking directly at her. The office door was open behind him. He held a thick white towel in his hands. He must have been coming out to get her.

Y/N pushed a dripping strand of hair out of her eyes. The kitchen disaster from earlier was still hanging heavily in the air between them but the storm outside had just physically trapped them in the same room.

"It is raining," she said pointing weakly toward the glass doors.

Harry did not smile. He walked slowly across the room and held the dry towel out to her.

"I noticed."

Y/N did not smile back.

She looked at the white towel and then up at his face. The kitchen disaster was still burning fresh in her mind. She knew he had done the right thing by pulling away because he was Scarlett's father and there were rules they could not break. She knew it was the responsible choice.

But that did not stop it from feeling like a sharp and humiliating rejection.

"Thanks," she said. Her voice was clipped and entirely hollow.

She took the towel from his hands making sure her fingers did not brush his. She wrapped the thick cotton tightly around her shoulders hiding her wet skin and the bikini completely. She did not linger to see how he reacted to her tone. She turned her back on him and walked straight toward the stairs.

She just wanted a hot shower. She wanted to wash away the cold rain and the embarrassment of standing in his kitchen while he remembered his daughter and pushed her away.

"Y/N."

She did not stop walking. Her bare feet slapped softly against the pale stone floor.

Harry moved faster than she expected. He crossed the distance between them in three long strides. Just as her foot touched the bottom step his large hand wrapped firmly around her wrist.

The contact sent a jolt straight up her arm. His palm was incredibly warm against her freezing skin.

Y/N froze. She stood on the first step which made her slightly taller than him. She turned her head slowly and looked down into his face.

Harry opened his mouth to speak. He looked like he wanted to apologize or explain or maybe drag her back into the living room and finish what they started before the oil started burning.

But then he looked into her eyes.

Y/N did not hide what she was feeling. The shield of sarcasm was gone. The playful teasing from the beach was entirely dead. She just looked at him with pure and unfiltered anger. She was furious at the mixed signals and the constant retreating. She was angry that he kept pulling her in only to drop her the second reality felt too heavy.

Harry saw it immediately. The desperate urgency in his expression faltered. The tight line of his jaw softened into something that looked exactly like defeat.

He realized he had absolutely no right to stop her. He was the one who drew the boundary and he could not be the one to hold her hostage on the other side of it.

His fingers slowly loosened around her wrist. The warm grip slipped away completely until he was no longer touching her.

Harry took a step back and let his hand fall to his side.

"Go get warm," he said quietly.

Y/N did not say another word. She turned around and walked the rest of the way up the stairs leaving him entirely alone in the empty living room while the rain battered violently against the glass doors.

Y/N stood under the hot shower until the chill in her bones finally melted away. She dried off and dressed in the warmest things she had packed. She chose a pair of worn grey sweatpants and an long sleeve white shirt that swallowed her hands entirely. It was not exactly a glamorous island outfit but she no longer cared about impressing anyone downstairs.

She brushed her wet hair and let it hang loose down her back. Her anger had washed down the drain leaving behind a hollow kind of exhaustion.

She realized she had left her book on the table in the living room. She needed it. She needed something to stare at so she would not have to think about the ruined lunch or the heavy look in his eyes on the stairs.

She walked downstairs quietly. The storm was still raging outside. Rain lashed against the glass doors and thunder rumbled low in the distance. The living room was lit by a few warm lamps creating a cozy bubble against the dark weather.

Harry was in the kitchen. He had cleared away the disastrous pan and the smoke was entirely gone. In its place was the rich and comforting smell of roasted garlic and spices. He was pulling several white takeout boxes out of a paper bag and arranging them on the marble island.

He looked up when she reached the bottom of the stairs. He had changed too. He wore a clean black t shirt and dark comfortable trousers. He looked just as tired as she felt.

"left my book," Y/N said softly.

"I ordered Thai food," Harry replied pointing at the boxes. "I know we are in the Bahamas but it felt like raining food."

"Raining food is a valid category."

"I thought so." Harry reached for a dark bottle sitting near the sink. "I also opened some wine. Thought we could both use a glass."

Y/N hesitated for only a second. "Please."

She walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the island. Harry slid a carton of noodles and a pair of wooden chopsticks toward her before setting a generous pour of red wine beside her plate. He did not hover and he did not bring up the stairs. He simply sat on the stool across from her and opened his own box.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. It was not the heavy and suffocating silence from the afternoon. It was a careful truce. The wine was rich and instantly warmed her chest.

"This is really good," she admitted after a few bites.

"I have my moments of successful provision," he said taking a sip of his wine.

"As long as it does not involve a stove."

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "That was a tactical error."

Y/N smiled faintly. The banter felt safe. It was a solid bridge back to normal.

"So," Harry began leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on the marble. "Journalism. Scarlett told me you are a good writer but you are not convinced you actually want to do it".

"Scarlett talks too much," Y/N sighed swirling the red wine in her glass.

"She is thorough," Harry corrected gently. "What does your family think about it?"

Y/N took a slow sip of her wine letting the warmth settle her nerves. "My mother lives in the Norway. She moved there a few years ago. She is supportive but it is hard to explain the panic of a journalism degree over a phone call across different time zones. We are close but the distance makes it complicated."

Harry watched her with quiet understanding. His dark eyes softened in the dim kitchen light. "Distance usually does."

"I think that is why Scarlett and I attached to each other so quickly during freshman year," Y/N added with a small shrug. "We both needed family."

Harry smiled and the exhaustion in his face faded into pure fondness. "She needed you. I know that for a fact."

Y/N looked down at her noodles feeling a sudden swell of affection for her best friend. "She told me you raised her by yourself mostly."

Harry went still for a moment. He did not look angry but a quiet melancholy washed over his features.

"You mentioned that she gets her terrifying persistence from her mother," Y/N continued softly testing the waters. "But she always talks about you."

Harry took a long swallow of his wine before setting the glass down. He traced the base of it with his thumb.

"Her mother was a force of nature," Harry said quietly. "Brilliant and stubborn and completely unapologetic. But she was not built for staying in one place. We realized pretty early on that we wanted completely different lives. We parted ways when Scarlett was only three."

Y/N listened closely as the rain continued to batter the glass doors outside.

"She moved to France to run an art gallery," Harry explained with a nostalgic and slightly sad smile. "She loves Scarlett. She really does. But she loves her from a distance. She visits on holidays and sends incredibly expensive gifts but I was the one doing the school runs and the packed lunches."

"That explains so much," Y/N whispered.

"What does it explain?"

"It explains why Scarlett protects you the way she does," Y/N said looking directly into his eyes. "She treats you like you are her entire world because for her whole life you actually were."

Harry stared at her. The air in the kitchen shifted entirely. The playful banter was gone leaving only a raw and exposed vulnerability between them. He looked at Y/N as if she had just reached into his chest and perfectly untangled a knot he had been carrying for twenty years.

"You see a lot for someone who claims to be guessing her way through life," he murmured.

"I pay attention to the people I care about," she answered honestly.

Harry held her gaze. The space between them felt incredibly small despite the wide marble island separating them. He reached across the counter and his fingers lightly brushed the back of her hand where it rested near her wine glass.

It was just a brush of skin but it felt louder than the thunder outside.

Y/N looked down at his fingers resting gently against her skin. The warmth of his touch sent a slow and heavy pulse beating at the base of her throat. She did not pull away.

She took a slow breath and looked back up into his eyes.

"Are you trying to distract me from my noodles?" she asked with a voice that was not quite as steady as she wanted it to be.

Harry smiled. It was a slow and devastating thing that reached all the way to his eyes. "Is it working?"

"A little."

He did not move his hand immediately. He simply let his thumb brush over her knuckles once more before withdrawing it slowly. The absence of his touch felt like a physical weight settling into the quiet kitchen.

"You are entirely too observant Y/N," he said picking up his wine glass again. "It makes hiding things very difficult."

"What are you trying to hide?" she challenged softly.

"Myself mostly," he admitted with a wry twist of his mouth. "I have spent years being Scarlett's father. I am very good at it. It is the only thing I know I have done exactly right."

"And the rest of the time?"

"The rest of the time I am just a man who burns lunch and complains about load bearing walls."

"I like that man," Y/N said before she could stop herself.

Harry went perfectly still. The storm raged outside sending a sheet of water against the glass doors but the kitchen felt suspended in absolute silence. He looked at her with a mix of wonder and total agony.

"You cannot say things like that to me," he whispered.

"Why?"

"Because tomorrow Scarlett gets on a plane," he reminded her softly. The reality of it landed between them like a heavy physical object. "She will be here. And this... whatever this is... has to go back in the box."

Y/N felt a sharp ache in her chest. She reached for her wine and took a long sip trying to wash down the sudden lump in her throat. She knew he was right. They had both known the clock was ticking since the moment she arrived at the villa.

"Is it a very small box?" she asked trying to force a small smile.

Harry let out a rough exhale and dragged a hand through his dark straight hair. "It is a terribly small box. And I am already terrible at keeping it shut."

"You did a very good job of keeping it shut this afternoon," she pointed out. The lingering sting of the kitchen rejection from earlier finally bled into her voice.

Harry looked down at his hands. "I panicked."

"You panicked," she repeated flatly.

"Yes." He lifted his gaze to meet hers and the sheer honesty in his face caught her completely off guard. "You were standing in the kitchen dripping wet and looking at me like you knew exactly what I wanted to do. I realized I was about to cross a line I could never uncross. So I panicked."

"By yelling about the food and running away."

"It was not my finest moment."

"It was deeply offensive."

"I know." He reached across the marble island again. This time he did not just brush her hand. He covered it completely with his own wrapping his warm fingers around hers. "I am sorry."

Y/N looked at their joined hands. The contrast of his larger sun bronzed hand over hers made her breath hitch. She squeezed his fingers gently.

"Apology accepted," she murmured.

"You are very forgiving."

"Do not get used to it."

Harry laughed softly. The sound was warm and private and entirely meant for her. They stayed like that for a long time while the rain washed the windows and the Thai food grew cold in their cartons. They finished the bottle of wine sharing stories that had absolutely nothing to do with architecture or journalism. He told her about a disastrous camping trip he took in his twenties and she told him about the time she accidentally set off the fire alarm in her dorm by attempting to boil pasta.

It felt incredibly easy. It felt like they had known each other for years rather than days.

When the clock on the microwave blinked past midnight the rain had finally slowed to a gentle patter.

Harry squeezed her hand one last time before letting go. He stood up and began gathering the empty cartons.

"You should get some sleep," he said quietly. "Scarlett will be texting us both at dawn with flight updates."

"Probably in all caps," Y/N agreed sliding off her stool.

"Undoubtedly."

She helped him carry the empty wine glasses to the sink. They stood side by side in the dim light. The charged electricity from the morning was still there but it had mellowed into a heavy and undeniable ache.

"Goodnight Harry," she said looking up at him.

He looked down at her. His eyes dropped to her mouth for a lingering second before he forced his gaze back up. He was holding onto his control by a thread.

"Goodnight Y/N."

She turned away from the sink. The warm glow of the kitchen lamps cast long shadows across the stone floor. She only made it three steps toward the hallway before a massive crack of thunder shook the actual foundation of the villa.

Simultaneously every single light in the house flickered violently and died.

Absolute pitch blackness swallowed the room. The sudden absence of light was so complete that Y/N gasped and froze exactly where she was standing. The only sound left was the heavy drumming of the rain against the glass doors.

"Do not move," Harry said. His voice came from the dark right behind her. It was low and incredibly calm.

"I am not moving," she promised with her heart kicking back up into a frantic rhythm. "I cannot see my own hands."

"The island grid loses power during heavy storms," he explained. She heard the soft shuffle of his footsteps on the stone floor. "There is a backup generator but it usually takes a few minutes to kick in."

"A few minutes," she repeated blindly reaching a hand out into the empty space.

Her fingers brushed against solid and warm muscle.

Harry caught her hand in the dark. He did not let go. He laced his fingers through hers with a natural ease that made her breath catch all over again.

"I have you," he murmured. He was standing so close now that she could feel the heat radiating off his chest. The darkness stripped away the polite distance they had just reestablished by the sink. "I am going to walk you to the stairs. Just step when I step."

"You can see in the dark?" she asked trying to force a teasing note into her voice to mask her racing pulse.

"I know the layout of the house," he corrected smoothly. "And I am currently holding onto you so I know you will not walk into a wall."

"Very chivalrous."

"I try."

He stepped forward and pulled her gently along with him. Moving blindly through the dark house with her hand completely engulfed in his felt incredibly intimate. The air conditioning had stopped working when the power cut out leaving the air thick and warm.

They moved at a painfully slow pace. Every time she hesitated his grip tightened just a fraction to reassure her.

"Watch your step," he instructed softly. "We are at the bottom of the staircase."

Y/N lifted her foot and felt the edge of the first wooden tread. She stepped up but she did not let go of his hand. Harry did not let go either.

They stood at the base of the stairs cloaked entirely in the dark. The silence stretched between them filled only by the sound of their breathing.

"I can probably make it the rest of the way," she whispered.

"Probably," he agreed. His voice was rougher now. The practical host routine was slipping away again in the absolute dark.

He still did not release her hand. Instead he took a step up onto the first stair bringing them level. He was mere inches away. She could smell the clean scent of soap and the faint spice of the wine they had just shared.

"Harry," she breathed.

His free hand came up to find her waist in the dark. His large palm settled against the thick knit of her oversized sweater. He pulled her a fraction of an inch closer.

"I know," he whispered back.

He lowered his head. She could feel his nose brush lightly against her cheek. It was a fleeting and agonizing touch. He was tracing the line of her jaw without actually kissing her. The restraint was driving them both completely out of their minds.

"You are making this very difficult," she murmured tilting her head to give him better access.

"I am trying to be good," he confessed against her skin. "I am trying very hard."

"I do not want you to be good."

Harry let out a wrecked groan. His grip on her waist tightened almost bruising. He shifted his weight like he was finally going to give in and capture her mouth.

They waited in the heavy silence.

A massive flash of lightning suddenly tore through the sky outside. For a fraction of a second blinding white light flooded the hallway through the tall glass windows. In that brief and electric illumination Y/N saw his face completely stripped of every single defense. She saw the heavy drop of his eyelids and the absolute surrender in his dark eyes. His straight hair was slightly messy falling over his forehead in the silver light.

Then the darkness slammed back down around them leaving them in pitch blackness once again.

Harry finally broke.

His mouth crashed down over hers. It was not a gentle first kiss. It was a collision of pure desperation and months of unspoken yearning. He kissed her like a man who had been starving and had finally been handed a feast. Y/N gasped against his lips and the sound was entirely swallowed by his mouth.

His hands were everywhere. The hand on her waist tightened and pulled her flush against his chest so forcefully the breath left her lungs. His other hand slid up the back of her neck tangling deeply into her hair and tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. He tasted like rich red wine and something uniquely him.

She reached blindly in the dark. Her hands found the broad expanse of his chest. She gripped the soft cotton of his black shirt anchoring herself to him as the storm raged around them.

Another flash of lightning lit up the house. The stark light caught the sharp angle of his jaw as he tilted his head to kiss her harder. The heavy rumble of thunder followed instantly shaking the floorboards beneath their feet but neither of them flinched.

Harry walked her backward up the first two stairs without breaking the kiss. He pressed her back against the cool plaster of the hallway wall. The contrast of the cold wall and the burning heat of his body was completely intoxicating.

"Y/N," he breathed against her mouth. His voice was incredibly rough and frayed at the edges. "You have no idea."

"show me," she whispered back pulling his face down to hers again.

He did not hesitate. His lips parted hers with greedy urgency. It was messy and perfect and everything she had been agonizing over since she arrived at the villa. She could feel the heavy thud of his heart beating against her own chest. Every single rule they had tried to build dissolved completely in the dark.

He was not the responsible host anymore. He was just Harry.

His thumbs traced the line of her jaw and then trailed down her neck sending wild shivers across her skin. The total darkness heightened every single physical sensation. She could not see his hands but she could feel exactly how desperate he was to touch her.

Lightning flared again throwing their intertwined shadows against the opposite wall for one split second.

He pulled back just an inch. They were both breathing heavily panting into the small space between them. The rain hammered relentlessly against the roof isolating them entirely from the rest of the world.

"This is a terrible idea," he confessed softly pressing his forehead against hers. "Scarlett arrives tomorrow."

"I know," Y/N answered. Her fingers tangled into his straight hair pulling him closer in the shadows. "Are you going to stop?"

Harry let out a low laugh that vibrated directly against her lips. "Absolutely not."

He kissed her again stealing the remaining breath from her lungs while the storm continued to break over the island.

let me know what you think!!!