Page 33 of In the Net (Sin Bin Stories #5)

SEBASTIAN

H aving Bryce over at my house in Cedar Shade, hanging out and laughing with all my teammates, is great. Really, it is.

But this guy’s known me for my whole damn life. He knows things about me that no one else here does. Things my teammates wouldn’t even suspect. And he’s got no problem sharing them.

“Dude, no way that’s Sebastian,” Kiran exclaims, leaning over Bryce’s shoulder while we’re all at the picnic table in our backyard as the party rages around us.

Bryce decided to bust out some pictures he has of me when we were kids, and the guys are eating it up. I was built like a beanpole before high school, and this fact is generating endless amusement for everyone but me.

“You both knew Harper growing up, too, right?” Veikko asks.

I glower at him.

“Oh, yeah,” Bryce answers. “Sebastian had a crush on her.”

I almost spit out the sip of beer I just took. “What!” I exclaim.

Bryce chuckles, nostalgia glimmering in his eyes. “Dude, come on. Don’t try to deny it after all these years.”

“ When do you think I had a crush on Harper ?”

I ask the question like it’s the height of absurdity. Like I haven’t rewatched that stupid video she sent me of her doing the worm multiple times a day for the last week. Like I haven’t started looking forward to our fake dates.

Like I didn’t fuck my hand last night because I suddenly remembered what her tits felt like pressed against my chest at Starlite.

“In sixth grade when you sat one row back and to the left of her in math class and you literally couldn’t stop looking at her,” my best friend replies.

Carter smacks his hand on the surface of the table, letting out a loud guffaw. Jamie snickers, shaking his head and trying not to laugh as much as he wants to. The other guys don’t show me that courtesy.

I roll my lips, my hackles raised. “You’re imagining things.”

Bryce huffs a laugh. “Yeah, like I’m imagining the way you used to stalk her Goodreads account for book recommendations.”

She had good taste in books. What can I say?

I roll my eyes. After they’ve arced around my sockets in frustration, by coincidence, they settle right on Harper.

She’s standing on the little back porch by the open sliding glass window, talking with her roommates. With Bryce coming up to visit, we decided to throw a house party, and this is the biggest of the year so far.

The air is crisp tonight but not biting. Harper’s wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy, nothing out of the ordinary, but my cock won’t stop twitching every time I look at her. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and every glimpse of her smooth, pale neck makes my mouth water.

I think about wrapping that ponytail around my fist, and arousal crackles through me.

But this isn’t the place or time to indulge in those thoughts, which I’ve been doing far too often lately in my bed or in the shower.

I yank my attention back to the conversation we’re having, which has thankfully moved past Bryce’s unflattering reminiscences.

An hour or so later, the party just getting into full swing, I’m in the kitchen grabbing another beer. I turn around and find Harper in front of me.

She’s wearing a big smile, and my heart immediately clenches, a melty feeling spilling through my chest.

She’s so pretty. At this point, even when I’m stone-cold sober I can’t bring myself to deny it anymore. When I’m feeling this buzz, I don’t have a chance.

“Hey,” she says.

Why does her just saying hey to me, with that smile on her lips and an inviting glimmer in her eyes, do this thing to my chest?

“Hey,” I answer. “Enjoying the party?”

She nods. “Yeah. It’s really great to see Bryce again. It’s great to see you guys together again.”

A comfortable warmth swirls through me.

“So many people don’t take that step to repair a relationship that means something to them, that they wish they could have back,” Harper continues. “And, well … I just wanted to say, I’m proud of you for that.”

Her simple words stun me. My heart pulses.

Harper’s cheeks tinge pink with self-consciousness after that unexpected compliment. She reaches past me to grab a couple of seltzers. “Need to bring these back to the girls,” she explains, while an intense thrum is still rolling through me from her words. “Enjoy the party.”

The rest of the party is a great time. Hanging out with Bryce, seeing him getting along with my friends and teammates, enjoying a classic Black Bears house party in the last year I’ll be able to.

But all night long, nothing feels better than when Harper told me she was proud of me.

It’s almost three in the morning, and the last embers of the party are dying out.

The last gaggle of guests just left the house, and Jamie is closing the door and locking it behind them. I’m picking up a couple discarded bottles that are on the floor, but for the most part we’re saving the cleaning job for tomorrow.

Or maybe the day after, depending on tomorrow’s hangover situation. I didn’t really drink that much, but Felix and Carter were throwing them back. Speaking of which, I have no idea where those two are.

I shrug. They’ll turn up somewhere tomorrow.

Bryce is passed out on the couch. He’ll just sleep there tonight.

Harper is dozing on the reclining chair in the living room. She’s the last one of her roommates here. Maddie and Scarlett left early, Jasmine left a little later, but Harper hung around.

I spend a couple beats just standing here, looking at her. She looks so peaceful. But I’m not about to let her spend the night on that old recliner that’s been in this house before I even moved in.

I scoop her up in my arms to carry her upstairs to my room. She can have my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the floor.

She feels so damn good in my arms as I climb up the stairs. Heat stirs low in my abdomen.

My bedroom door creaks as I push it open with my foot. Harper rustles in my arms.

“Sebastian?” she asks, voice small and raspy with sleep. Something about it makes that heat low in my belly sharpen.

“Yeah, Sleepy?” The words feel so cheesy on my lips, but at the same time they set off a warm flicker in my chest.

She lets out a small chuckle, and I feel it vibrate through her body.

She curls herself closer to my chest, her pillow-soft hair nuzzling against my shoulder.

It’s so damn comfortable, I feel like I could just stand here in my doorway all night long.

Maybe fall asleep standing up, with her in my arms like this.

But then a jolt moves through her. Her eyelids open, awareness sharpening in her gaze, and she quickly wiggles out of my arms to stand on her own two feet. Disappointment clatters through me.

“What time is it?” she asks

“Almost three. I was just going to let you have my bed tonight.” I hurry to add, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Her lips tug down. “I don’t want to make you do that. I’ll walk home.”

The thought of her walking back home, all alone, in the dark, in the very deadest hour of the night hits me. Not a fucking chance.

“It’s too late. And you’re too tired.” I brush past her into my room, opening a drawer of my dresser and grabbing a clean t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts with a drawstring for her to wear.

I hold them out. “Here, you can change into these.” I don’t want to give her any time to even think about fighting me on staying over.

She’s not walking back home alone tonight.

I’m lucky that she’s tired, because the thought doesn’t seem to be appealing to her, either.

Not without reluctance, she takes the clothes from my hands and steps into the bathroom.

I try not to let my cock thicken too much at the thought of her just feet away behind the bathroom door, stepping out of her clothes.

Then I remember that she’s not just stepping out of her clothes. She’s stepping into mine.

That’s enough to make me lose the battle with the blood flow that’s trying to stiffen my dick. I’m able to get it under control by the time she comes back out, though.

“I checked with my roommates,” she says behind me, walking back into my room as I’m pulling out a pair of shorts for myself. I normally sleep in boxers, but that doesn’t feel right, even if I’m going to be on the floor while she’s in my bed. “They’re all back home safe.”

“That’s good,” I say. Then I turn around, and lightning roars through my body.

I knew I was going to see Harper wearing my clothes. I knew I was going to like it. But I didn’t anticipate the effect it was going to have.

Fire burns through my veins, masculine satisfaction pounding in my chest like a drum. Her body swims in my oversized clothes, and I enjoy that visual far too much. She’s undone her ponytail, and her fiery, auburn hair cascades over her shoulders.

I can feel my groin swelling. I quickly walk past her into the bathroom to change so she doesn’t see the tent forming in my pants. I take longer than I should in the bathroom, willing my body temperature lower and trying to tame the erection that has my groin tight and aching with want.

When I come back out and step into my room, I find Harper lying on the floor, one of the pillows from my bed tucked under her head.

“I’m definitely not taking your bed,” she says before I can even comment. “So don’t try to argue.”

Defiance sounds good in her voice. It always has. But no amount of defiance she’s thrown at me has ever convinced me to back down.

“Yes, you are.” I fold my arms over my chest.

She sits up. “No, I’m not,” she says, making her voice deep to imitate mine, folding her own arms to mock me.

I try to keep my mouth from twitching.

My girlfriend knows how to be a brat, and sometimes I like it. Maybe more than sometimes.

I set my jaw in determination, my eye contact with her not wavering.

“I know your shoulder hurts,” she says. “I’m not going to have you blaming me if sleeping on the floor makes it worse and you play badly in your next game.”

She knows my shoulder hurts? How?

Like she can read the question in my eyes, she rolls her own. “As if anyone could fail to notice how you kept wincing and favoring it all night. You got smashed against the dasher boards in your last game, and it’s been bothering you ever since.”

Something kindles in my chest. Just how closely is she watching me when I’m not looking?

“My shoulder’s fine,” I protest.

“Do five pushups, then,” Harper bites back.

My eyebrows knit. “What?”

A devilish grin twists on her lips. “Do five pushups. If your shoulder feels so fine. Shouldn’t be a challenge for you. The Sebastian I know would jump at the opportunity to show off, anyway.”

Pain stabs into my shoulder just thinking about it.

A smug, triumphant look paints Harper’s face. “That’s what I thought.” She lies back down and rolls onto her side, curling up and pulling a quilt off one of my chairs to cover herself. “Sleep well, Sebastian. On your bed.”

If she thinks I’m giving up that easily, she doesn’t know me as well as she should.

I grab the second pillow and the blanket from the top of my bed. Then I deposit them onto the ground, on the other side of my room from where Harper is lying.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I told you I’m sleeping on the floor, and I’m sleeping on the floor. If you’re going to be too stubborn to take the bed, I guess it’ll just be empty tonight.”

I stretch out on the carpeted floor.

“Sebastian, don’t be stupid,” Harper chides.

“I’m not the one letting a perfectly empty bed go to waste. You are.”

A frustrated grumble hums from across the room, and I smirk.

“Fine,” she huffs. “We’ll both sleep on the floor.”

“Fine.”

I don’t think it’s even been an hour since I fell asleep when I wake up. The room is still covered in darkness, only a dim orange light from the streetlamps peeking through the thin slit where my curtains meet over my window.

My neck is tight. Worse, my shoulder aches. Harper was right about me sleeping on the floor.

On the other side of the room, I hear her tossing and turning with discomfort.

Fuck it. This is stupid.

I throw the blanket I’m using onto the top of my bed and stand up. I stride over to where Harper’s sleeping, scoop her into my arms, and haul both of us into my bed.

“Sebastian, what are you …” There’s a protest on the tip of her tongue, but she’s too tired to push it out.

“Don’t argue,” I say, my voice sleep-clogged but firm. “Just shut up and go back to sleep.”

She huffs a quiet laugh. “Bossy,” she murmurs.

I tuck her pillow under her head, cover us with the blanket, and then scoot to the far side of my mattress to give her some space.

But no matter how much space is between us as I drift back to sleep, we’re still sharing the same bed, I still feel her heat under the covers, and I still like it far, far too much.