Midnight Pleasure: 30 Shades Of Short Steamy Stories
My skin tingled with excitement at the thought of Harry's hands roaming over my curves, stripping away the flimsy lace.
Reaching the seventh floor corridor, I paused outside the Room of Requirement, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. Then, with a trembling hand, I knocked three times.
The door swung open and there he stood - Harry Potter himself, glasses glinting in the candlelight. His black hair was messier than usual, like he'd run his fingers through it a hundred times. The white shirt hugged his lean chest and his dark jeans clung to his hips. He was gorgeous.