He honestly hadn’t expected to do anything other than sleep on some uncomfortable sofa or overstuffed armchair in her parlor, but despite Gryff’s and Rhys’s dire warnings, and his own fervent denials, he couldn’t regret what they’d done.
How Harriet would feel about it, of course, was anyone’s guess. Every time he thought he knew how she’d react to something she managed to surprise him, and he had no idea what she’d think of waking up pressed to his naked body in the morning.
Had this been enough to convince her they should be together? They were perfectly compatible: different enough never to grow bored of one other, similar enough to share the same humor and interests.
His love for her glowed inside him like banked embers. She’d accused him of laughing at her, of making her the butt of his jokes, and hehad, but that was only half the story. She’d also been the shore to which he’d navigated. The X on the map that marked treasure. Hisstar. His guiding light, the one fixed point by which he’d set his course.
Home.
Morgan inhaled, filling his lungs with the sleepy-warm, womanly scent of her. Of them.
He would not lose sight of her now.
Not when he was so close to his final destination.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Harriet woke to a profound feeling of warmth and contentment, and her first thought was that Mrs. Jennings must have come in and started the fire.
She cracked her eyes open and squinted at the still-dead hearth. The faint gray light of early morning slid through the curtains and the lively calls of tradesmen echoed up from the street below as the great beating heart of London stirred: grocers and bakers, brewers and sweeps.
And then her dazed brain registered the heavy weight beside her and her eyes popped fully open. Morgan’s arm was slung casually over her chest, his much-larger body pressed down her entire right side. Hot. Hard.
Startled, she turned her head and encountered his face, and the sight of his laughing eyes so unexpectedly close to her own caused a full-body flush. She reared back in alarm.
“Morning, Miss Montgomery, I trust you slept well?”
His voice was gravelly from disuse and it made her stomach quiver.
Oh, she’d done it now.
“Good morning.” Why on earth was she trying to sound so prim when he wasnaked in bed beside her?
She sat up and tried to gather her scattered wits, determined to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, her brusque movement revealed the mouthwatering expanse of his chest as the bedspread dipped. Unconcerned, he rolled onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head in a supremely masculine stretch of contentment.
She swallowed and clenched her hands into the bedspread to stop herself from falling on him like a ravenous beast. She wanted to touch himeverywhere.
Morgan was clearly used to this terrible awkwardness of waking up next to a member of the opposite sex—a member whose body had been intimately acquainted with one’s own. She, however, felt heat rush to her cheeks.
No doubt he was wondering how he was going to politely extricate himself from her bedroom and make his escape. Well, she wouldn’t be one of those dreadful, clinging females he usually encountered. She would be sensible. Mature.Sophisticated.
She cleared her throat. “Morgan.”
“Harriet.” He answered with equal gravity, mocking her businesslike tone. His eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Last night was lovely, but… it can’t happen again.”
His eyes widened in comical shock. He hadn’t been expectingthat.
“What? Why not?”
Because you’ll break my heart.
“Come, we’re both adults. I think we can both agree that one night was enough to assuage our curiosity.”
“But—”
She pressed on, pleating the fabric in her fingers to quell her nervous jitters. “I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to make love, and you’ve shown me how pleasant it is. I’ll be forever grateful to you.”
