And judging by the way she kept nestling closer against him, sighing contentedly in her sleep, maybe she was too.
Sebastian woke to sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the immediate, disorienting awareness that he wasn’t alone. Harper was still there, her blonde hair spilled across his pillow like silk, one arm flung across his chest like she belonged there. For one ridiculous second, he let himself pretend she did.
He just watched her—the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the way she looked almost peaceful without that sharp edge she wore like armor.
Then reality crashed back.
This was Harper Sinclair. The woman who’d been systematically dismantling his life for months. The woman who knew exactly which buttons to push to make him lose his carefully maintained composure. Andthe woman who was now naked in his bed.
Sebastian was frozen in place trying to decide how to handle this. In his experience, morning-afters were usually straightforward affairs—coffee, polite conversation, a graceful exit. But nothing about Harper had ever been straightforward.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Harper’s eyes fluttered open. For just a moment, she looked soft and sleepy and utterly beautiful. Then awareness crept in, and Sebastian watched her face transform as she remembered where she was.
Sebastian smiled, wry and tentative. “Morning.”
Harper sat up, the sheet falling to her waist, and Sebastian had to concentrate very hard on not staring. Her hair was a glorious mess, and there were marks on her throat that he distinctly remembered making. The sight sent a fresh wave of want through him that was entirely inconvenient given that he was trying to play it cool.
“Morning,” Harper echoed, her voice rough with sleep. Her eyes started to sweep the room like she was mentally cataloging her exit strategy. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to,” Sebastian said, propping himself up on one elbow. “Unless you really want to.”
Harper hesitated—just a beat too long.
Then she slid out of bed, all confidence and cool detachment, entirely unbothered by her lack of clothes. He admired that about her—how she could look like she belonged anywhere, even now. Except when she was pretending this meant nothing.
“Look,” she said, tugging on her jumper. “Last night was… unexpected.”
Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as he watched her hunt for the rest of her clothes with single-minded determination. Even flustered and half-dressed, Harper Sinclair was a force to be reckoned with.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” He stretched languidly, enjoying the way her eyes flickered over his bare chest and down to where the sheets were slung dangerously low across his hips before she caught herself. “Unexpected?”
“Yes.” Harper found her blouse and slipped it on. “Emotions were runninghigh. It was a lapse in judgment. A mistake.”
“Well,” Sebastian said, standing and padding over to her. Harper froze as he approached. “Technically it was a series of mistakes.”
He was close enough now to see the pulse hammering at her throat, close enough to catch that subtle intake of breath when he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Sebastian.” His name was half warning, half plea.
“Relax, Sinclair. I’m not going to pounce on you.” Though the thought was tempting, especially with the way she was looking at him—like she wanted to run and stay in equal measure. “Coffee?”
Harper blinked, clearly thrown by the mundane offer. “What?”
“Coffee. It’s a beverage. Some people drink it in the morning.” Sebastian’s smile was pure mischief. “I hear it’s particularly good after unexpected lapses in judgement.”
For a moment, Harper looked like she might smack him. Then something changed in her expression—a decision being made.
“Coffee,” she said carefully, “would be good actually.”
“Excellent.” Sebastian grabbed his boxers from the floor and pulled them on, then headed toward the kitchen. “Fair warning though—I only have the good stuff. None of that swill that you probably drink at the office.”
Harper’s laugh was sharp. “There’s the arrogant bastard I know and despise.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sebastian called over his shoulder as he started the espresso machine. When he turned back, Harper was perched on one of the bar stools, fully dressed now but still beautifully disheveled. “Besides, we both know you don’t despise me half as much as you pretend to.”
“Don’t we?” Harper’s smile was teasing. “You seem awfully confident for someone who had to wait until I was naked to get the upper hand.”
Sebastian felt that dangerous flicker if desire at the reminder. “If I recall correctly, you were fairly… enthusiastic about the arrangement.”