Only with You (The Best Mistake 1)

But there were other ways to get on top. She rolled over him until she straddled his hips and had his hands pinned above his head. Gray eyes sparkled up at her, and for a moment her play

ful mood faltered at the warmth she saw there.

Look how far we’ve come, she thought.

He apparently misread her, because he started to tense and pull back.

“God, Sophie, you’re right, we really shouldn’t be doing this.”

Shaking her head, she put her hand over his mouth. They’d have to deal with it eventually, but not yet.

“Just one night,” she said quietly.

Gray nodded slowly, before pulling her face down to his. “One night,” he agreed.

And they made it one hell of a good night. She lost count of the number of ways they loved each other.

It wasn’t until Sophie slowly drifted off to sleep in the early morning that she realized the noise in the back of her mind wasn’t just a postsex hum.

It was a warning bell.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sophie rolled over the next morning in a foreign bed and was dismayed to see the sun streaming in the window. She groaned. So much for leaving in the early morning hours. Sneaking out of a man’s bedroom at five in the morning had never been a particular forte of Sophie’s. She hated early mornings in general. It usually took a bullhorn and an electric prod to get her moving in time for work.

And that was assuming she was in her own house with her own coffeepot, her yellow fuzzy robe, and the Mamma Mia! soundtrack.

She squinted at the empty bedroom, not at all surprised that she didn’t see Gray. No doubt he’d already ran a half marathon, baked a baguette, churned his own butter, and acquired six new companies before she’d even taken her first morning pee.

Sophie pulled herself out of bed, wishing for something to tie back the hair that she knew was in a tangle of curls. She’d found that while men thought they had a thing for bedhead, what actually turned them on was hair that had been styled to look like bedhead.

The real thing? Not so good.

The clothes situation was even trickier since she seemed to remember that hers were last seen scattered around his living room. And there was just no way in hell she was about to go prancing around his house naked.

Not for any man, and certainly not for her boss.

Oh God, I’ve slept with my boss. This sort of thing really was not supposed to happen outside of tawdry romance novels and old movies.

She should be ashamed. She’d just taken one huge step back for womankind.

But right now she wasn’t thinking of herself as part of the general women’s movement, or as some sort of trashy stereotype. She was thinking like a woman who’d just slept with the man she loved. Sophie plowed her fingers through her hair and tugged at the tangled curls.

I’m in love with Gray.

She wasn’t sure why the realization was such a shock. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It was merely the latest in a string of really, really bad choices. But it didn’t have to be a disaster. She just couldn’t let him find out.

Not that he’d be able to pick up on it. At least if she had to fall in love with the wrong guy, she’d picked one with absolutely zero people-reading skills.

Sophie stood abruptly and went to his closet, pulling on the first shirt she saw. It smelled vaguely like him, and she hated herself for sniffing it.

“That’s an interesting look.”

Sophie closed her eyes briefly at the sound of his voice, and finished buttoning his shirt. She’d never understood how in the movies, a man’s shirt fell to midthigh of the heroine after a night of bumping uglies. All of those actresses must be midgets, because a standard men’s shirt on Sophie barely covered her ass.

You can do this, she told herself with a deep breath.

She braced herself for a disapproving and closed-off grump. Instead, she saw that he looked relaxed and maybe even a little bit happy. If she’d fallen for grumpy Gray, she could really lose her heart over this sweeter version.