Page 151 of One Wrong Move

Nate

Bright midday light streams through the bedroom windows. Thin, gossamer curtains are drawn to obscure the prying eyes, but they don’t keep out the sunshine.

It bounces off the white of my comforter. Makes her blonde curls look lighter, like pure honey in the sunshine.

“Hey,” she whispers.

I’m propped up on an elbow beside her. The giant duvet is half wrapped around us, only covering me from the waist down. It blankets Harper almost entirely, apart from a single leg she stuck out, the pale skin left bare from hip to toe.

I feel drunk on the sight of her.

“Hi,” I say. “Did I miss something, or haven’t we been hanging out for… the last… twelve hours?”

“Yes. But you can’t be too polite, you know.”

“Ah. Right. I appreciate that.” I let my gaze wander along her makeup-free, freckled, beautiful face. Down her neck and the collarbone and softly rounded shoulder. Her bare arm is resting on top of the comforter. “You cold?”

“Mm-hmm. No.”

“Right.” I smile and reach out to trace up her exposed limb. “Because you’ve been clutching that cover since we finished.”

She digs her teeth into her bottom lip. The curls are a riot around her face, mussed and tangled from the early morning sex.

It’s a beautiful Sunday in London, and we’re checking off another thing from her list. In addition to stay out all night, there was also a spend an entire day in bed.

Not very hard to do, I’m finding.

“It’s very bright in here,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly feeling self-conscious.”

“Suddenly? We aren’t usually naked in this kind of intense brightness.”

I laugh. “You’ve got amnesia. The bathroom?”

“Okay, yes, but I used the dimmer on your spotlights.”

“Harper,” I say. “You look amazing in the brightest of lights.”

She shakes her head a little, but she’s smiling, and I know she’s not taking this too seriously. It’s a slight concern, but not a serious one. “You say that because you’re biased.”

“Of course I’m biased,” I say. “But who else is in this room? Who else are you parading around naked in front of?”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay, Mr. Possessive.”

I shift closer and run my hand over her thigh. Down the back of her knee, and grab her calf. Pull her leg closer. “Look at this perfection. Creamy skin. Round shapes. I love the length of your legs. They’re perfectly wrapped around me, and in a mini skirt when you taunt me, or stretched out in a rowboat before we tip over.”

Harper laughs. It cuts off when I drag my hand higher, over the round curve of her ass. “And this… God, I love your ass. Your curves. Not one inch of you is anything but hot.”

She rolls onto her stomach on the cover, her fully nude body on display.

If I felt drunk before, I’m high now. Sunlight dapples the skin of her bare back, over the curves of her butt, the length of her legs. Her curls dance across her shoulder blades.

“Feel free to continue,” she says.

I laugh and run my hand up her spine. Brush her hair away, and trace her neck and shoulders. “Your skin is so soft. Ridiculously soft, really. I love your freckles here… and on your arms. Love them.” My fingers brush down the side of her chest, on the lightly curved breasts, flattening against the comforter. “I love your tits. You know that already. They drive me fucking nuts. When you flashed me on the stairs, I nearly lost it.”

“Flashed you? That was an accident!”

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