Into You Series: The Complete Collection

16. Saria

CHAPTER 16

SARIA

H arry’s couch is a lot nicer to wake up on when I didn’t just meet him the same day.

A few weeks ago, I remember scrunching as close as I could to the crease in the L corner of the cushions. Now, I’m right in the center of the couch feeling like a queen in just my underwear and Harry’s oversized t-shirt. Much better than bar clothes from the night before.

I look around, hoping to see him ready to go for round fifty bajillion, but the lack of him in the living room along with the clanking of tools below tells me he’s already facing the day.

I figure I must have slept in, so I flip my phone over to check the time.

Seven o’clock?!

What is this insane man doing awake at seven o’clock on Sunday?! That’s pure blasphemy.

I get up, stumble toward the door in a completely ungraceful fashion due to standing up too fast, and then swing open the apartment door.

Looking over the railing and down into the garage below, I hear low music coming from a speaker on the same workbench I got railed over less than twelve hours ago. It’s odd to think something so functional could serve such a dirty, filthy purpose. My heart leaps at the memory.

Underneath the clunker of a car next to my van—the one I barely caught sight of last night while being hoisted over Harry’s shoulder—is the man I’m looking for. He’s wearing black steel-toed work boots with dark gray sweatpants tucked into them which, holy shit, totally hug the curve of the monster that did me in last night. Just above that is a little bit of his beautiful abs exposed from where his shirt tugs up.

Harry is a freaking god of a man. It’s not like I haven’t noticed it before. He knew how to own my body just a few weeks ago, but last night hit different. Something about how he carried me up to his apartment afterward, sat me in his lap, and massaged my shoulders while we put on a movie… One could argue that screwing your best friend might be the key to fantastic sex, but my past experience says otherwise. And since when did Harry become my new best friend?

Noah never watched a movie with me after sex. It was always “I have to go to tennis practice” or “I have a study group” or “We promised ‘insert friend of the day here’ we’d go visit them.” Excuses. He never treated me how Harry did last night.

I lean over the railing to yell down, “Hey, crazy person! It’s a Sunday!”

My somersaulting heart only gets more gymnastic when Harry rolls out with a tool in hand. He’s grinning that boyish grin of his. Even from here, I can see the laugh lines. Honestly, he has every right to be happy. Any man should be proud after doing what he did to me last night.

“Seven o’clock is late by my standards!” he calls up to me. “Want some coffee?”

I twist my lips to the side as if considering then nod.

Harry smiles wider. I can’t hear him from this height, but I just know he’s doing that low rumble laugh of his. The one that shows just how amused he is by me. He puts whatever tool he was holding back in the toolbox and runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches me. His arms instantly wrap around my waist as he draws me close.

Our lips touch, rough and needy but in a visible attempt to remain restrained. At least, I’m attempting to do so. As much as I love his bulky arms wrapped around me, I think I’d need some form of a boost to handle our game of cat and mouse this morning.

“Coffee,” I say against his mouth, the words coming out muffled.

Harry chuckles, smacking my very sore ass cheek and turning me around to walk back-to-chest into the apartment together.

I find that I very much love watching Harry prepare coffee. Although it’s something I do every morning, I don’t think I look nearly as good as he does when he makes it. His back muscles flex and shift when he reaches into the top cabinet. His forearms pop when he pours the coffee grounds. Hell, he even runs a hand through his hair right before shutting the top, the movement lifting his shirt ever so slightly for me to admire the Adonis V making its way past the top of his sweatpants.

Did I say I needed a boost? It seems like my hard nipples need nothing to stand erect for him.

“I need to go get Cara in about an hour,” he says.

I cross my arms over my chest as my stomach tumbles. Never mind then.

“Is that my cue to leave?” I ask with a forced laugh.

Harry turns to me, his brows already furrowed. “No,” he says, taking a step toward me. “No, not at all.” He closes the distance between us, placing a hand on either side of my hips. “You’re free to hang out, come with me to pick up Cara, whatever you like. I will say, I have a lot to do today so you might be bored, but don’t feel like you need to leave.”

He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear and places a soft peck on my cheek. Bliss. He goes back to the fridge to pull out creamer and lifts himself up to sit on the counter, leaning forward on his knees and gazing over at me.

Have you ever seen someone look at you like maybe they don’t want to ever be looking at anyone else in the world?

I think I have now.

“So, do you always wake up this early?” I ask, exhaling and trying to relieve myself of nerves.

“Earlier,” he says with a smile. “I’ve been up since six. You were dead asleep, so I tried to be quiet while showering.”

“You’ve already showered ?” I ask. The gall of this man starting his Sunday so early!

“Well, it would have been more fun with you, but I had to get work done.” Harry winks. Winks. Ugh. “Speaking of which, are you free Tuesday?”

“Another class?”

He nods, twisting at the waist to pull down a mug from the cabinet next to him and pouring the little bit of coffee in the maker before handing it to me.

I like that he goes to class. I like that he is pursuing dreams.

“Thanks.” I step forward to take it, narrowing my eyes and tilting my head to the side. “What do you do outside of work?” I ask.

“You,” he says. My stomach clenches. Damn his wonderful smile.

“I mean …” I stretch out the word for emphasis. He chuckles. “Do you ever do anything for fun?”

Harry shrugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning his back against the cabinets before sipping. “I work on cars,” he says. “Cars are fun.”

“Yeah, but that’s work.”

He shrugs again with a smile. “I like my job.”

That hits different.

“That’s actually kinda nice to hear,” I mutter.

Harry squints for a moment, not taking his eyes off me before saying, “Someone mentioned veterinary school at board game night. Was that a passion of yours?”

I notice how tactfully he sidestepped calling Noah out, but the pain still lingers like an open cut.

“Yeah, I like animals, but I’m too old for vet school now.”

Harry barks out a laugh. “ Too old? People go back to college in their fifties ! You’re so young, it’s almost insulting.”

I smile. “My grades were shit and I have no qualifying credits in my major. No school would take me based on my GPA alone.”

“Then go back to school.”

I bark out a laugh that comes out harsher than I intended. It’s not that I haven’t considered that once or twice, especially while toiling away at Treasuries Inc., answering phones and transferring calls, but college involves time—a commodity I can’t justify spending when it comes to repeating the last four years of my life. I’m supposed to be moving forward—not back.

“It’s not that easy,” I say.

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.”

“Let’s not talk about me,” I say, plopping down in a seat at the table behind me. Harry hops off the counter and saunters over to join me. “You work. You play dad. Do you ever go out, have fun, live a little?”

He squints one eye as if trying to find the words. “I don’t really have time for that.”

“Well, stop for two seconds,” I say. “Do something fun.”

“Once again, I thought you were pretty fun to do last night.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows at me, and I shake my head while trying to restrain a smile forming on my lips.

“The joke is old, Harry.”

“I’m still laughing at it,” he says, taking a long sip. One look at my pursed lips has him rolling his eyes with a smile. “Fine. What do you think we should do? And it should be kid-friendly. I’m picking up Cara, remember.”

“Right,” I say.

“Let’s do something involving animals,” Harry says. “Let’s get your vet background sparking again.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

He leans back in his chair, narrowing his eyes as if I just presented a challenge. “We’ll see, princess.”

I adore how he looks sitting there, clutching the handle of his coffee with his broad chest stretching the fabric of his shirt to fit him so perfectly. He has that boy-next-door charm. Though, more like dad-next-door charm. Porn tells me screwing the nanny is totally acceptable. As a previous babysitter of many crusty-looking dads, I never believed porn until now.

I slide my coffee aside and lift one knee, then two, onto the table. I get on all fours, crawling over the tabletop on hands and knees toward Harry, whose eyes have already started to grow wide.

“What’s this?” he asks. His dad-next-door smile transforms into more of that devil-next-door grin of his. The grin that means business.

“A morning wake-up call,” I answer, swinging my legs around so that my ass is still on the table, my feet now straddling his thighs on the chair.

He sets his coffee down next to me, stroking the outside of my calves with his hands. The one that was holding his coffee is warm while the other is colder. The contrast sends shivers to my core.

“But I’m already awake,” he says.

“Then how about a mid-morning extra espresso shot?”

I go to slide off the table and into his lap, but he stops me mid-slide, clutching my thighs to keep me planted on the spot.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls. His hand strokes down my chest, applying pressure that pushes my back to the table. He spreads my legs, kissing the inside of my thigh. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

My back arches, a reaction to his gruff tone as he slides my underwear down to my ankles, kisses my thigh, and licks me into heaven.

I go for a run near my apartment once he leaves to get Cara.

I consider everything. The party. Harry’s work ethic. Noah. And when I get to Noah, I don’t feel tense or uncomfortable. I’m embarrassed.

How have I hung on to him for this long? And why am I still doing it? I gave up so much for him, whether he asked me to or not. I stopped studying. I abandoned my dream of being a vet. I got a degree, but just to have one. Nothing more.

I turn the corner, jogging faster down the straightaway before my apartment complex.

Screw this. Screw Noah.

I don’t need him. I don’t want him. For once, I want independence. Watching Harry wake up early to work on his car was the kick I needed. The fun we had after was just a bonus.

I reach the broken gate entrance, sprint over to the playground area in the middle of the complex, and finally fall back into the grass under the tree.

I’m not using this van to escape his wedding. I’ll be using this van for my own independence. My own wants and needs. Maybe I’ll volunteer at shelters in my travels. Maybe I’ll put effort into my social media van account. I can get on the same level as VannaWhite. Maybe more successful.

But I know one thing for sure: No more Noah, and way more of Harry’s tongue on me first thing in the morning.