Page 50 of In the Net (Sin Bin Stories #5)
SEBASTIAN
“ W hat a relief. Now I don’t have to hold that grudge against you anymore.”
Harper laughs by my side as we step out of the Louvre, after having spent a full eight hours inside.
“Truly turning over a new leaf in our relationship,” she snarks next to me.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her close as we walk toward the Jardin des Tuileries outside the museum.
Harper and I graduated from Brumehill just a couple weeks ago. Before I have to start training for my first NHL season and she has to start her move to Yale where she’s been accepted into a Literature PhD program, we decided to take a summer trip back to Paris.
“What if I got sick again, right before our ticket entry?” she asks.
I tilt my shoulder. “I’d leave you in bed and go alone. You think I’m missing the Louvre a second time?”
She digs her elbow into my ribs, and we both laugh. Obviously, we both know I’d drop literally anything to take care of Harper when she needs me, no matter where we are, no matter what I’m missing.
There’s only one thing I’d never miss, no matter the cost, and that’s being there for her.
We chat about our excitement and nervousness about our big upcoming years while we walk around the right bank of Paris.
On top of us both always being enchanted with the idea of this city, thanks to the memories we have together from our first trip here, when everything between us started to change, it’s become a precious place to us.
We cross the river to the other side, strolling through the Ile de la Cité and gazing at Notre Dame again as we pass by.
Like we’re being magnetically drawn, as we weave through the narrow streets of the left bank, we end up turning a corner and coming across the hotel we stayed at during our trip here months ago.
“Feels like another lifetime,” I say, my voice marveling as I look at the building.
“I know, right? It feels crazy to think it wasn’t even a year ago.”
A smile curls on my lips as I look up to find the window of the room Harper stayed in, the one I scaled the walls and snuck inside of when I was worried about her.
“The first room we spent the night together in,” I say, my voice somewhere between a joke and a wistful reminiscence.
“Would’ve been cute to try and book the same room for this trip,” she says. With the ink signed on my NHL contract, I decided to splurge and get us a hotel room that was honestly an irresponsible level of expensive, even for my respectable rookie contract.
A thought jolts into my head that has my dick twitching in my pants.
“It is a shame that there’s a room we’ve spent the night in together without us having, you know …” I bounce my eyebrows at her.
Desire flashes in her green eyes. “Maybe next time.”
Suddenly, my arousal is a runaway train. The thought of fucking Harper in the first room we spent the night in together has lust shooting through me. My groin is uncomfortably tight, and I don’t want to wait until we get back to the other side of town where our fancier hotel is to relieve it.
I shake my head, feeling my gaze sharpen. “No. This time.”
She giggles as I take her hand in mine and pull her through the door, into the lobby we entered separately months ago.
“Sebastian, what are you doing?” she whispers.
I glance around furtively, seeing that there are no hotel staff around. That’s what I counted on, because it was often the case when we were here. If you needed something, you’d have to wait around for ages. The classic French work ethic is working in our favor this time.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to her. She presses her lips together to mask a giggle as I lead her up to the floor we stayed on last time.
“How do you think this is going to work?” she asks in a hushed voice, though her tone is shot through with excitement that makes even more blood pump to my cock. “These rooms have locks, you know. And someone else might be in that room right now.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I say with a wolfish grin.
Honestly, I have no fucking idea how I’m going to pull this off, but being back in this city with Harper, and remembering the frisson of thrill that shot through me the first time I saw her lying in her bed, it all has me feeling adventurous.
I spot a housekeeper stepping out of a room close to Harper’s old one, pulling a cleaning cart behind her.
I nudge Harper, and we approach the housekeeper. My spoken French isn’t that good in the first place, but I make it extra-jumbled and ungrammatical, putting on my best clueless tourist performance, only barely managing to get across the idea that Harper and I locked ourselves out of our room.
We must look trustworthy, because she takes out her master key and uses it to open the door for us. I thank her with numerous mispronounced Merci ’s, and we slide inside.
I sweep my gaze around the room, seeing that the bed is freshly made, everything is clean and orderly, and the room is clearly empty and waiting for its next occupant. Which means the coast is clear.
I turn to Harper, ready to crush my lips to hers, but she beats me to it.
Before I can make a move, her hands are twisted into my t-shirt and she’s pulling me toward her, pressing her mouth to mine with a hungry kiss. Flames lick through my bloodstream, and my hands roam all over her, frantically finding the hem of her shirt and sinking underneath to feel her skin.
“You fantasized about doing this while watching me sleep back then, like a creeper, didn’t you?” she rasps teasingly as I nip at her lips.
My groin swells, excitement pumping through me. I love how even though we’re together, her mouth hasn’t gotten any less smart or taunting. We keep each other on our toes, and we always will. It sure as fuck makes things more interesting in the bedroom.
I feather my fingers through her hair and clench my fist into a tight grip, tugging her head back so my lips can rake against the softness of her neck. “I’ll admit that when you admit how many times you touched yourself thinking about me, back when you were supposed to hate me.”
My lips scrape against that square right underneath her left ear that always makes her melt. “Lost count,” she says in a breathless surrender.
Smug pride beats through me. “You’re not the only one.”
We strip our clothes off with frantic urgency. Once her panties and my boxers are on the floor, I spin her around so that she’s bent slightly, hands against the wall. I reach around to palm one of her tits, flicking the firm nub of her nipple while I line myself up with her slit from behind.
“Fuck,” I growl, feeling how slick and warm she is as I tease her with my cock, “you’re so fucking ready for me.”
She tilts her hips, and I push myself into her.
Immediately, I light up from head to toe. I’ve never felt my self-control snap so quickly. I’m immediately in a frenzy, rutting into her with abandon while pleasure coils tightly around the base of my spine, pure bliss radiating through my body from my tight, aching groin.
I slide my hand away from Harper’s tit, up to her chin so I can tilt her head to the side and kiss her, angling my hips so I can keep thrusting, because I feel like if I stopped, I’d die.
She gasps against my mouth and then her body shudders. Her walls ripple around me, and I’m a fucking goner.
My orgasm slams into me, and I erupt inside her, falling over the edge as my release roars through me. Right before my eyes clench tight from the intensity of the climax, my gaze flits to the bed, the first bed I ever saw Harper lying in with my own eyes.
My DNA feels rearranged as we recover and get cleaned up. That was the hottest quickie of my fucking life. I almost feel like I can die a happy man right now. But I know that isn’t true, because I have a whole lifetime with Harper to look forward to that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
That evening, we’re strolling along the bank of the River Seine. The sun’s just dipped beneath the tops of the buildings in the west of the city, its last rays painting the sky gorgeous streaks of orange and red and yellow, wispy clouds catching the light.
“Still my favorite city in the world,” I say, glancing around at the beautiful edifices lining the river.
“We haven’t seen many to compare it to,” Harper says.
I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter.” I turn to her, pulling her flush against my chest. “Paris will always be my favorite city. You’ll always be my favorite person. Lot of things I don’t know, lot of things I’m not sure about. But those two things? Not a doubt in my mind.”
There’s not an iota of doubt when I dip down to kiss her, while the last color of the sun drains from the west and the first stars start to twinkle in the east above us in the Paris sky.