espionage [h.s.]

EIGHTEEN

A.N. Just wanted to say thank you for 13k reads already! I appreciate all the support & feedback from you all and I'm glad you seem to be enjoying the story so far bc trust me i still have lots planned for it....

But in the meantime, enjoy this chapter, remember to vote & comment

ROCHELLE

I wake up before Harry the next morning, who is surprisingly still asleep beside me. Not able to help myself, I take the opportunity to scan my eyes over his face which is in quite close proximity to my own. His features are much softer in sleep, eyelids gently closed, plump pink lips pursed, eyebrows slightly furrowed, a few strands of his brown hair flopping over his forehead. I feel a slight flare of annoyance as I look at him, not understanding how anyone can still look so fucking attractive when they're sleeping.

Almost as if he can sense me watching him, Harry's eyes suddenly snap open, momentarily squinting in response to the light before opening them properly to look at me. "Morning," he murmurs sleepily, the sound of his deep and raspy voice admittedly making me swoon a little.

"Morning," I reply, my head buried into the pillow as I blink up at him. "What time is it?"

He turns around to glance at the small alarm clock placed on the table beside the bed. "Eight," he tells me once he turns back around, his expression indicating he's just as surprised as I am at the time.

"Wow," I say, reaching up to tiredly rub my right eye. "I can't believe I actually slept that long. That never happens."

"Neither do I," Harry murmurs, eyebrows furrowing as if he is genuinely puzzled about how it happened. "I can't remember the last time I slept through the night..."

"Same," I respond between a yawn. For a moment, my mind begins to wonder if having each other to sleep next to had anything to do with the two insomniacs managing to sleep through the night, but I push the thought away as quickly as it came, almost laughing at how pathetically sappy it sounds.

Although I did sleep well last night, my dreams were haunted by images of the rather intimate encounter Harry and I shared only hours before. And it wasn't one of those 'it was so good I can't stop thinking about it' kind of dreams, but more so a 'oh my fucking god I can't believe you were stupid enough to do that' type of thing. The orders from Milos have been echoing in my head relentlessly ever since, knowing I was told to get close to Harry, but not that close. I definitely never intended to get that close, and I don't think he did either.

I'm not really sure what happened to me last night. The only explanation I have for my actions is that I was way, way too caught up in the moment, overwhelmed by our closeness and usual flirty banter which turned into something much more intense before either of us could stop it. In the moment, I felt unable to control myself seeing as I passed the point of sexual frustration a long time ago, and Harry clearly had too as he catered to my desires without much hesitation.