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“Of course.” Getting up, he takes his coffee from the tray, and then returns to sit back down. “You should drink your coffee before it’s cold.”
I take a sip, savoring the foam on top. “That was really sweet of you to go out to get these for us. I’m just surprised you were up so early.”
“I run in the morning before class. Waking up early is a habit now, even on the weekends.”
I get back in bed, sipping my hot drink while he starts to undress. Wow. That body is impressive. As soon as he climbs in next to me, he says, “I’m usually tired from a shift, so it’s easier to sleep in on the weekends.”
He hands me the bag. “You didn’t get a muffin?”
Sliding down until he’s lying flat next to me, he says, “I was starving for more of last night.” He winks with a click of his tongue. “But I decided to let you rest and settled for a muffin from the coffee shop instead.”
I nibble on the muffin, but seeing him lying there—tan, muscular, and so attractive—I set the rest on the nightstand and cuddle with him. A kiss here leads to placing one there, and soon enough, we’re kissing for the next hour.
Exhaustion catches up with us eventually, and we close our eyes, falling asleep together again.
* * *
“Oh my God!”
The door slams shut, causing both Harbor and me to bolt upright. My hand flies up to contain my heart before it beats right out of my chest.
We look at each other.
Shirtless.
A muss of hair that’s looking more like bedhead at this point in the day.
A jaw so cut that it shadows his neck.
Harbor Westcott is quite the delightful sight, every bitGQmodel material, and he’s in my bed.
With his eyes set on mine, they both comfort and call me to him without exchanging a word. He asks, “Roommate?”
I shift closer to him, gliding my hand over his chest. “I think so. Sorry about that.”
“No worries. Do you need to let her know that you’re not being held hostage by a strange man in your bed?”
“Probably.” I slip out of bed and into my robe as I pad to the door. “I won’t be long.”
He tucks his hands under his head, watching me go. “I’ll be here.”
Glancing back, a surge of giddiness rolls through me at this sight of him. “You’ll have my undivided attention when I return.”
“I appreciate the declaration, but you should probably talk to your roommate to make sure she’s okay.”
“Yes, right . . .” He’s very distracting. I turn around and open the door. “Going to talk to my roommate.” I peek back. “Be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
I close the door and instantly sink against it, feeling pliant all over again. I’m shocked I’m even standing after the past twenty-four hours.
The sound of the water running has me moving into the kitchen and rounding the corner. “Aman—” I’m pinned to the fridge before I can scream. A hand is clamped over my mouth and my best friend leans in so close our noses are practically touching. Whispering, she asks, “Why do you have Harbor Westcott in your bed?”
My words are muffled because yeah, her hand is still blocking everything I say. She gets the hint and removes it, and I slide free. “How do you know Harbor?”
She looks at me like I’ve suddenly grown a third eye. “Everyone knows Harbor, Lark.”
“Guess I’m out of the loop because I didn’t know him until recently.”
