“I warned you.” He smiled faintly. “Operation: Don’t Screw This Up is hanging by a thread.”
“I don’t think it is,” she said, rising from her chair but keeping their hands connected. “I think this is the part where we stop pretending we’re not already in this.”
Sebastian stood as well, and suddenly they were facing each other across the small table, candles flickering between them like a barrier neither was quite ready to cross.
“We are, aren’t we?” he said.
Harper nodded, stepping around the table toward him. “I think it snuck up on us.”
Jazz was still playing softly from hidden speakers, a tune that was slow and sultry that seemed to wrap around them.
Sebastian moved to turn off the music, but Harper caught his wrist.
“Leave it,” she said. “I like it.”
Sebastian’s eyes darkened as he looked at her, still illuminated by the candlelight from the terrace. “Harper.”
“What?”
“Dance with me,” he said suddenly.
Harper’s breath caught. “Here?”
“Here.” Sebastian held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it.
He pulled her closer, one hand settling at her waist while the other held hers against his chest. They began to move to the music, slow and intimate, their bodies pressed together from chest to thigh.
“Better than I imagined,” Sebastian murmured against her ear, and Harper did indeed sigh at the contact.
“What did you imagine?” she asked, her free hand sliding up to rest at the nape of his neck.
“This.” His hand traced down her spine, following the curve of her lower back. “The way you fit against me. The way you smell.” His lips found her throat, pressing a soft kiss there. “The way your pulse races when I touch you here.”
Harper’s head fell back slightly, giving him better access. “Sebastian.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he continued, his voice low and rough.
Sebastian’s hands began to explore her back, tracing patterns on her skin. “The way you challenge me, the way you look at me like you can see right through all the charm to whatever’s underneath.”
They weren’t really dancing anymore, just swaying together in the dim light, lost in each other.
“What’s underneath?” Harper asked, her voice softer now.
Sebastian pulled back to look at her, his hands framing her face. “Someone who wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything.”
The raw honesty in his voice made Harper’s knees weak. “Show me,” she said.
Sebastian’s smile was wicked and tender at once. “With pleasure.”
They moved through the house slowly, Harper’s heels clicking softly on the hardwood, their joined hands the only point of contact. The familiar minimalist spaces felt different now—charged with intention instead of casual visits or hurried encounters. Sebastian paused at the base of the stairs, turning to look at her.
“You sure about this?” he asked quietly. “I mean… Us. Whatever we’re calling it.”
Harper looked directly at him. “I’m sure that I want to find out what happens when we stop overthinking everything.”
“That’s terrifyingly unlike you.”
“I know.” She smiled, something genuine crossing her face. “You’re a terrible influence.”