"Good morning baby," he said, nuzzling my neck.
"A little soon for baby, isn't it sugar?" I said back to him, my hand gliding up his neck and onto his head, fingers slipping through his soft, black hair.
How many times had I been here before? Let's hope he was not a clinger or, heaven forbid, wanted to stay for breakfast. On second thought, round (insert number here) might not be the worst idea. Damn the man knows how to fuck a woman right. Wasted or not.
The scent of Jasmine mingling with his aftershave smelled so fucking good. So familiar. Was I still wasted or just drunk on him?
"You didn't think so last night when I was fucking you. 'Good God, yes. You must be the angel that became the devil because you take me to heaven and then to hell. Fuck me again baby.' I believe those were your exact words after round two, Mace. Glad you came home, baby," said Harmon's deep, raspy voice.
My blood ran cold. I froze, not daring to breathe. What the actual fuck? The man in my bed this morning couldn't be Harmon Chancellor, brand new COO to Hunter Industries AKA Billy's best friend AKA the sexiest man alive.
Bits and pieces of last night came back to me slowly. Drinking with the Japanese (just don't. They will drink you under the table. Every time). The big break up that followed. And then the next part… That was never supposed to happen. Harmon swore it never would. I was like a little sister to him. So what the fuck was he doing in my bed?
"It's not nice to call out another woman's name when you finally fuck the one that's been begging for your dick for years, Harmon," I whispered teasingly into his ear.
His muscular form tensed for a split second before he withdrew from me swiftly. Gone was the warmth of the body that had been pressed up against mine a second ago.
"Time for breakfast, Miss Hunter," he said nonchalantly, stepping into his boxers like it was a regular Tuesday.
"You fucked me last night, Harmon. Me. A lot," I said coyly, a smug smirk on my face.
Harmon and I were… Well it was complicated.
"And this has what to do with us needing breakfast? Get up. It's your first day back at the office. You need to make a good impression on Mr. Hunter, Miss Hunter," he said, brushing off the best sexual experience of my existence (and believe me, there were plenty) like it was nothing.
It wasn't personal though. This was classic Harmon.
"I'm surprised I didn't get an 'inconsequential'. For the record, what you're packing down there is very consequential, baby. I'm ruined for all other men and even women," I said right back to him, flirting my ass off, as I was known to do.
Really what else was there to do? What was done was done. Harmon and I, we were the same that way. We didn't sweat the small stuff. That was why I never understood why he wouldn't just put his dick in me and get it over with. I've wanted it since I became legal. He was as much of a harlot as me. What the fuck was the problem? Other than his one year on again off again girlfriend Macy of course.
He turned back to me in nothing but his boxers, abs and broad chest on full display along with his morning wood. Sinking a knee into the mattress, he drew closer. Harlot or not, those intense brown eyes had me drawing the sheet up against my chest.
"There's nothing inconsequential about touching you. Knowing you. My relationship with you, Miss Hunter," he said, reaching out to stroke my cheek tenderly. "I wish you could see that and stop doing whatever the fuck this is," he said, raising his voice in frustration.
"If I was planning to fuck you, I would have made sure I was fucking sober so I could enjoy it thoroughly. Fuck knows it won't happen twice," I said charismatically, hopping off the bed while ignoring the unexpected stabbing pain in my chest as I wrapped the sheet around my body tightly.
Clinging to the sheet for dear life, I picked up my dress off the floor and slipped it under the sheet to wiggle my way into it. Why the fuck was I being such a prude? We fucked until dawn. It was amazing. I wasn't ashamed of shit. Never had been. I was a fucking Hunter, dammit. Billionaire playboy Will Hunter's sister and wing woman. A born player.
"You do know I saw every last bit of you last night when I was getting your body ready to take my dick, right? Drop the sheet before you hurt yourself, Miss Hunter," he said with apparent indifference.
His whole body moved to face mine, his arms crossed as he made his demand, eyes trailing down my body.
"Go fuck yourself Harmon," I said with what little pride I could scrape together, expertly slipping into the dress before dropping the sheet.
Disappointment flickered in his eyes when the sheet dropped to reveal my little black dress and yet his eyes lingered on me just the same. His gaze went up and down my body like he was looking for something. Seeing me for the first time.
"My apologies, Miss Hunter. It's my fault, not yours. I was not in my right mind and we were both drunk. Last night was a mistake. It won't happen again," he said, turning his back on me to head towards the kitchen.
"You have nothing to worry about, Harmon. I won't tell Billy. You're safe," I said begrudgingly.
He stopped short in the doorway, then turned back around.
"You think I'm afraid of Will? I don't give a shit what you tell him. Unless of course it's that you didn't enjoy it. Did you, Miss Hunter? Did you enjoy my cock in your cunt all night long? Sure sounded like you did," he said, eyes boring into mine.
Despite the hangover from hell clearly clouding my judgment, I resisted the urge to throw myself at him and beg him to fuck me again.
"I've had better," I said cheekily. "You of all people know that."
"Really?" he said, grinning cockily, taking a few steps back into the room.
The breath caught in my throat as he came closer until he was a hair's breadth away.
"Because I'm not sure I have," he whispered into my ear. "Just so you know, it was a delicious mistake."
He held my gaze with his, sending my heartbeat skyrocketing. Shallow breaths came out of me as he reached down and opened the drawer of his bedside table.
"For your headache, Miss Hunter," he said, producing a bottle of aspirin, taking my hand in his and laying the bottle into my hand.
I just stood there and watched him do it like some dick lashed teenager.
"Breakfast will be ready promptly. Make yourself decent," he said, his lustful eyes dropping to my chest.
I looked down to see that the dress I had yet to zip up had slid down just enough to offer a generous look at my tits. All these years, teasing him, daring him to look. Why the fuck was I covering up now?
"They're fucking beautiful Olive, but you're just not for me," he said, brushing the swells of my breasts with his fingers before he stepped back.
I watched him walk away with a lump in my throat. Just sex. Purely physical. Creepy daddy issues. That's all it was. So why the fuck couldn't I stop feeling proud as I stared at the scratches on his back?
Sadness coursed through me as he said, "Tell Will if you need to. If it'll make you feel better. As far as I'm concerned though, this never happened. But Olivia—"
A thrill went through me when he said my name, as he so rarely did. In an instant my body remembered what it felt like to come undone for him. Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck.
"What?" I asked in a small voice, wiping away a single tear.
"Just because I thought it was her, doesn't mean I'm not glad it was you. Color us both surprised, baby girl," he said, before he walked out the door.