Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Harper pulled on a blue T-shirt that said, I run entirely on caffeine, sarcasm, and inappropriate thoughts, then studied her reflection in the mirror above the credenza in her suite and smiled. Her hair was a mess, the remnants of her mascara smudged beneath her eyes, and she couldn’t care less.
We had sex. Three times. Five if you can count oral. Was it real? Or had she hit her head at the club last night and imagined it?
She stole a look at Roman behind her in the reflection of the mirror as she combed her fingers through her hair, then swiped them beneath her eyes to remove the wayward mascara.
Nope, that man is very real. And my thighs feel like I did one of Mom’s Jane Fonda workouts last night, too.
Roman was asleep, facedown, his naked body like a work of art. One hand over his head, his face turned to the side. His knee was bent giving her a stunning view of his ass.
SEALs hated being called commandos, but this SEAL preferred sleeping commando, at least. And she didn’t mind one bit.
Yup, it’s real.
Last night had begun with a silent vow to herself to move on and use an evening at the club with Jackson and his friends as a safe practice run.
But that vow flew out the window when Roman showed up.
Instead of walking away, she ran straight into his arms, and together they plowed their way forward. One orgasm at a time.
Harper slowly turned around and peered at the drawn curtains that blocked out the morning sunlight. She’d worried that when she woke up, she’d be alone, that Roman would have extracted himself from the situation the second she fell asleep.
But he was still there in all his glorious nakedness. She tiptoed around to her side of the bed, which was officially the right side, and peeked at his tan lines as she climbed onto the mattress, doing her best not to rouse him from sleep.
Okay, she wasn’t exactly looking at the tan lines above his ass, although it was a mouthwatering sight.
Instead, she was riveted on his well-sculpted glutes.
Then her eyes moved on up his muscular shoulders to the hair she’d dragged her hands through when he’d gone down on her multiple times last night.
Briefs. He’d been wearing black briefs, not boxers. Her guess back at the gym of their office in January had been right.
Roman flipped to his back while still asleep, and now she was looking at another set of lines. The V-lines that ran along either side of his six-pack and drew her focus down to his cock growing before her eyes, hanging off to the left. Made total sense since he was also a lefty.
She smirked, feeling a bit guilty for ogling the man, but come on, how often had she fantasized about him since the night Luke and Owen had said their “I do’s” to Eva and Samantha?
The DJ had insisted she and Wyatt share a dance since she’d caught the bouquet and he the garter, and she’d been shocked to hear that there had been a few side bets as to whether they’d end up falling in love as well.
The idea of a “Harper and Wyatt” had been as absurd in 2019 as it was now in 2021.
Wyatt was happily in love with Natasha Chandler after working on a recent case that had brought the two lovebirds together.
Falling for someone she worked with was something Harper promised would never happen again—not after Brandon.
But now, lying on the bed next to Roman, she knew he would be the only man worth the risk. And she’d known that the moment her eyes had connected with Roman’s while she’d danced with Wyatt.
“Line officially crossed,” she said under her breath.
A sudden bite of pain squeezed inside her chest at the idea something would eventually go wrong between them. He’s not Brandon, she scolded herself. But something always goes wrong. Always.
She set a palm to her eyes, wanting desperately to banish her fears and insecurities and embrace the fact she’d made love with the man she’d wanted since the moment they’d met.
But her train of thought wouldn’t change course by simply hiding her eyes with her hand. Mom died. Dad died. My fiancé used me and then tried to fucking kill me. People always leave. They leave and they die. And—
“Harper.”
At the sound of Roman’s deep voice, her hand fell from her face.
“You’re real,” he added in a sleepy, sexy tone that made all the dark thoughts disappear from her head in a second.
“I would hope so.” She lightly laughed.
He opened his eyes and smiled. “I meant still here.”
“It is my hotel room,” she teased and repositioned herself to lie next to him, tucking an arm beneath her head to prop her up some. “You’re the one still here.”
“Do you want me to be?”
I would have cried if you weren’t. “Yes,” she confessed, pulling the sheet up over them. She loved the view, but wasn’t he cold?
He rolled to his side and reached for her hand, then pulled their linked palms between them. His eyes remained steady on hers, a million thoughts most likely in that big brain of his.
Her heart raced as she waited for the words. The words that would tell her this couldn’t happen again. That it was a mistake.
She knew he had his reasons. She had hers as well, and one of those reasons—Brandon—didn’t deserve a place in her mind. Not anymore. She needed to evict him from her thoughts and allow herself to find happiness.
When Roman’s amazingly talented lips parted as if preparing to speak, Harper scrambled to mentally prepare herself for the inevitable regretful tone. Instead, he squeezed her hand a bit harder and said, “I always love your T-shirts.”
“You’re not even looking at it.” Her voice was breathless as relief flooded through her.
“I still noticed.” His brows drew together before relaxing. “I always notice.”
“My dad,” she sputtered and closed her eyes. “My shirts are because of him.” She smiled. “I think he had a different T-shirt for every day of the month. Something clever or funny that had a way of putting a smile on someone’s face.” Her eyes parted at the memory.
“Well, yours always puts a smile on my face.”
“They do?” She gulped.
“On the inside, at least.” He wasn’t always great at showing his emotions unless they came in the form of broodiness.
His free hand slid beneath the sheet and caressed her knee for ten rapid heartbeats—she counted—before smoothing farther up, lighting a fire in its wake as it slowly traveled to her hip.
And when his finger connected with her sensitive nub, she nearly passed out.
This was not what she’d expected, for Roman to be the sex god this morning and not the I-can’t-talk-about-it-Teamguy.
“I could watch you come all day long,” he said in a low, husky voice.
Since when did Roman have a voice worthy of an Audible performance for a romance novel? A very hot one, too.
Her mom was always buying her audiobooks, an attempt to push her into the world of romance.
Well, she was officially in that world, at least for one more morning, and oh, God.
Two fingers went deep inside her, and Roman had yet to unlock their clasped palms or steal his focus from her eyes.
To the outside world—not that anyone was watching them—no one would realize what he was doing to her beneath the sheet.
The man was stealthy.
And she could see herself getting in a lot of trouble with him. The good kind of trouble.
Sneaking around at the office and instead of just a kiss on the copy machine, he’d spread her legs open and give it to her. Hard. The file cabinets rattling from his deep thrusts. Wow, do I become dirty when I’m turned on?
“I don’t know how to regret this. Regret you.” His somber tone came right after he’d fingered her into a proper orgasm faster than Nicholas Cage and Angelina Jolie hotwired a car in the movie Gone in 60 Seconds.
It took her another hot minute to come down from that mountain of ecstasy she’d peaked on to fully grasp his words.
Roman released her hand and sat up, set his back to the black leather headboard, and drew the sheet up over his hard length. Probably a good idea because his impressive erection was demanding attention, and she was more than eager to provide it.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said softly, and his admission should have felt like sunshine on a dark, winter day.
The way it cut through the clouds and poured light and warmth down as you lifted your chin to the sky.
So, why did it feel like there was a heavy cloud about to blot out the sun and she’d be delivered the mother of all “buts” at any second?
She waited.
It still didn’t come.
Her shoulders fell in disappointment at her own thoughts.
She did her best to match her inner thoughts to her fun T-shirts, but it wasn’t always easy when she felt like she was constantly dealing with insurmountable challenges.
And her past kept infiltrating her mind, trying to wrangle her into a desolate, sunless place where nothing could grow. A kind of post-apocalyptic world.
“I’ve wanted you, too.” Harper finally allowed the truth to sail free from her lips as she sat up and spun around to face him. She drew one knee to her chest, stretched her other leg out, and flexed her foot. Roman reached for her ankle and laid his warm palm on her skin.
His eyes lowered to where he moved his thumb in small circles over her skin, while Harper sent her gaze to the sheet still pitching a mighty impressive tent.
“You want more,” he said in a low voice, and here came the cloud. The shadow it cast was bone-chillingly cold, and she swore she felt her body tremble a tiny bit.
“Maybe more is overrated.” Or maybe we can be together, and I can get over my issues?
“I can’t ask you to sneak around and do this.” Roman let go of her ankle and settled both hands on his lap, his erection dying along with her hope.
“This?” She tensed. “Have the best sex of my life with someone who . . .”