Capture

Sleepovers and Guests

The morning sun streamed through the sheer curtains, throwing golden patterns across the bedroom floor. I stirred beneath the sheets, the warmth of Harry's body pressed against mine like a second blanket. One of his arms was slung lazily over my waist, his breath soft and steady against the back of my neck.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. My body was sore in that slow, satisfied kind of way — the kind that came after hours of being touched like I was wanted, like I was more than a moment. Harry had been gentle, attentive. He'd taken his time. We'd laughed in between kisses, kissed in between laughs. It had felt easy.

It had felt safe.

I turned slowly to face him. He was still asleep, lashes resting against his cheeks, hair a mess of soft curls across the pillow. His lips were parted slightly, and one corner was curved just barely upward — like he was dreaming something sweet. God, he was beautiful. And more than that, he was kind, and yet... guilt still curled in the pit of my stomach like smoke.

Not because of Harry. Not because of anything we did. I didn't regret being with him — not for a second. He was good to me, good for me. The kind of man who didn't make me feel like I had to be anything but exactly who I was.

I did regret what it meant for Liam.

I didn't need to close my eyes to remember the weight of Liam's arm around me, the way he'd whispered my name into the dark, the quiet apology in his touch. I hadn't meant to hurt him, but I had, and even now, in the warmth of Harry's arms, part of me still felt the sting of that wound.

I sighed softly and tried to shift without waking him, but his eyes blinked open — bleary and warm. "Hey," he murmured, voice gravelly and slow with sleep.

"Hey," I whispered back, brushing a curl off his forehead.

A smile tugged at his lips. "You're staring."

"I am."

"Is it because I look absurdly handsome first thing in the morning?"

I laughed, tucking myself closer. "Something like that."

He tightened his arm around me, pulling me into the crook of his body. "Mmm. I vote we stay here forever. Or at least until breakfast magically appears."

"You'll be waiting a long time."

"Worth it."

His lips found my bare shoulder, then the curve of my neck, planting sleepy kisses as his fingers traced idle circles along my hip beneath the sheet. "You okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah," I said, quieter now. "I am." I was. Mostly. He made it easy to feel that way. Easy to choose calm over chaos.

"I'll go make coffee," I said finally, slipping out of bed and grabbing his shirt off the floor. It hung long on me, brushing my thighs as I padded to the bathroom before going for coffee.

"Fine," he grumbled with a grin, flopping back onto my pillows. "Only if you come back with two mugs and no pants."

"Deal." I laughed as I flicked on the bathroom light, ran cool water over my face, and tried to settle the buzz just beneath my skin. I looked at myself in the mirror. Lips pink. Hair wild. Eyes tired, but not unhappy.

Then — a knock at the door. For a moment it didn't register in my brain that only two people had ever knocked on my door, and one of them was naked in my bed. The other was... Liam.

Harry's voice called out from the bedroom. "I'll get it!" My heart froze. Shit. No, no, no.

I whipped open the bathroom door but Harry was already out of the room and walking across the flat to the front door. "Harry—wait!"