Pompous Player (Cocky Hero Club)

“Actually, I kinda did.”

He tosses his coat on the couch, his gaze holding mine from across the room. I swallow hard, still remembering his words from earlier.

“When you get fucked, you’re not the one calling the shots and deciding how you come. For once in your life, you surrender.”

I can admit it to myself—I’ve never surrendered to a man. It feels like the opposite of everything I believe in. Even in the bedroom, I tend to be the one in charge, telling my partner what I want. A girl’s got to be specific or sex can be pretty disappointing.

But what if there are men out there who don’t need direction? Men who pay attention to their partners and can read what feels good?

As Harry walks over to me, a spark of arousal shoots down my spine and reaches every nerve ending in my body. For all his flaws—and he has so many—Harry can make me hot with just a look.

“Do you want to take a bath?” he asks, his eyes still on me.

“With you? God no.”

The corners of his lips quirk up slightly. “That’s not what I said; get your mind out of the gutter. You mentioned liking the tub in my bathroom the other day, so why don’t you let me rock Avery while you go try it out?”

I can feel my face warming. I’m pretty sure he just busted me having sexy thoughts about him.

“It’s my turn with Avery,” I say, my pulse pounding. “I’m taking care of her until exactly seven in the morning. Then it’s your turn.”

“I know the chart says that, but what if we say fuck the chart and you go take a bath?”

I frown. “I worked hard on that chart.”

He shakes his head. “Not fuck it forever, Winter. Fuck it for right now.”

God, I like the sound of him saying fuck. I need to find myself a friend with benefits and get this attraction out of my system. I’m getting hot and bothered around Harry way too often. I feel like a bitch in heat.

“I guess…that would be nice,” I admit.

“Good girl.”

I give him a warning look, my eyes narrowed and he has the gall to ask, “What?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Harry winks at me. Fucking winks. “Because you don’t like it, or because you do?”

I did like it, actually—a lot. But I sure as hell don’t want him knowing that.

“You’re so full of yourself,” I say as he takes Avery from my arms.

She stirs as he takes her, and he cradles her and walks around the living room to soothe her back to sleep. Even the way he does that is hot. I’m feeling like a lost cause.

I grab some clean clothes and toiletries from my bedroom and walk into Harry’s master suite. His dark bedspread is rumpled and I picture him climbing out of bed in nothing but boxers, all ink and muscles.

Things get worse when I walk into his bathroom. I can’t help it—I grab his cologne bottle and inhale the scent, closing my eyes.

Harry’s bathroom is lined with gray-colored slate flooring and the cabinets are topped with white quartz countertops. It’s bigger than any bathroom I’ve ever been in. There’s a huge shower with several showerheads, two sinks and a massive garden tub. The toilet has its own separate room.

I push down the stopper and turn the handle to fill the tub, waiting to get in until the tub is half full and the mirrors are fogged with steam. And when I do, I moan. I had a tiny shower in my studio apartment. It’s been a long time since I took a bath, and I’ve never taken one in a tub like this.

I soak for a good half hour before washing with my coconut-scented bodywash and shaving my legs. I could easily stay in the tub for another thirty minutes, but I feel guilty since Harry’s taking care of Avery for me.

When I get out of the tub, I rub some coconut-scented lotion over my legs and arms before dressing in panties, tiny black cotton shorts and a white tank. This tank leaves nothing to the imagination, outlining the shape of my breasts and clinging to my body. But I figure if Harry’s gonna make me suffer, I’ll return the favor.

I take my hair down from its messy bun, letting the wild curls fall loosely around my shoulders. Then I glance at my dirty clothes on the floor, my lacy pink panties on top of the pile. I leave them for Harry to see the next time he walks in here.

When I go out to the living room, his gaze shifts from the TV, which he must’ve turned on after I left, to me. His lips part and his eyes darken with hunger as I approach.

“Thank you so much,” I whisper, bending down to take Avery from him. “That was really nice.”