Off The Record Ch. 09

Hi all!

This chapter is unique because I chose to put both POVs in one chapter since the scenes are consecutive within the timeline.

I was going to do two separate chapters, with Harper's perspective being a bit shorter as a teaser to Morgan's perspective, but then I got impatient and remembered that I have free will. Hope you don't mind ;)

Enjoy <3

All characters are over 18.

***

Harper wanted Morgan Monroe more than she wanted to fucking breathe.

One week.

That was how long it took Harper to regret having that conversation with Morgan at the restaurant.

One week to realize that her futile attempt to turn off her attraction to Morgan and try to be her friend was only making everything she felt for her amplify tenfold.

One week to finally get it through her thick skull that kissing Morgan had opened Pandora's box, and it was full of what-ifs and fantasies that kept her up at night.

And the worst part was that Morgan was abiding by her terms of agreement seemingly effortlessly.

There had been no overly suggestive flirtation, no passing touches that made Harper's breath catch in her throat.

It was like Morgan had become the picture of moral propriety overnight.

And it--it bothered Harper. Even though she had no fucking right to be bothered by it, even though it was her idea in the first place to take a step back from each other romantically and sexually.

It made her want to rip her hair out.

And they had actually started to hang out as friends, having seen each other twice within the past few days without it being about work or the trial.

That had been a mistake.

Because watching Morgan eat an ice cream cone was absolutely not what Harper needed in her life at the moment--not when they were trying out this new dynamic.

Not when she was actively trying not to think about her tongue and how talented it was or the fact that she knew what it felt like curling against her own.

The way Morgan had swirled that tongue around her twisted chocolate and vanilla soft serve cone had been fucking obscene.

Or maybe it just seemed that way because Harper's mind was in the gutter.

Harper had never wanted to be an ice cream cone more in her life.

"Did I get some on my face?" Morgan had asked when she noticed Harper staring at her, before running her thumb across her mouth, checking for ice cream.

Harper had swallowed hard, her throat suddenly very dry. "Yes, but you got it," she'd said quietly, turning her attention back to her own ice cream before she did something that got her arrested for public indecency.

That had been several days ago, and once again, Morgan was consuming Harper's thoughts as she collapsed onto her sofa, exhausted from her day of working.

Despite it being a Saturday, Harper had had a full docket of interviews, having agreed to see people who didn't have time during the week.

Harper was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her phone vibrating against the coffee table.

She leaned forward, frowning when she saw that it was Erin. A call from your editor past six o'clock on a Saturday was never a good thing.

"Hey, what's up?" Harper greeted her casually.

"Hey," Erin replied. She sounded distracted, and Harper could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background. The woman never stopped working. "Are you okay?"

Harper pulled the phone away from her ear, blinking down at it in confusion before bringing it back. "Yes," she said, drawing out the word. "What do you mean? You called me, Erin."

Erin sighed. "I'm reading through your draft for the story about the congressman's embezzlement scandal and I've already come across at least five grammatical errors."

"What?" The word was a disbelieving gasp, Harper's spine straightening where she was seated on her couch.

That just wasn't possible.

"I'm sorry," Harper said, embarrassed. Editing her own work thoroughly before submitting anything to Erin's desk was something Harper prided herself on. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had any mistakes in her drafts.

"You don't need to be sorry. I'm not calling you to make you feel bad about it," Erin said. "It's literally my job to edit. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me a little bit worried about you."

Harper sighed, closing her eyes.

"Harper," Erin's quiet voice said on the line, "you're my most reliable writer, and I have no doubt that you're managing your workload well enough."

Harper could sense the 'but' coming from a mile away.

"But," she continued, "if the Sterling case is taking up more of your time than you anticipated, and you're stretched too thin, we can work around it and dole out some of these lesser stories to other people."

"No," Harper said sharply. "No. This week has just been particularly busy, and I definitely haven't spent as much time editing as I usually do. It won't happen again."

"Alright," Erin said, accepting defeat. "Well, just let me know if you change your mind."

"I will," Harper said, before saying goodbye and hanging up.

This was getting out of hand.

Harper wished it was the trial itself distracting her, but it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. It was the woman behind the trial who could be credited with Harper's slip-ups in her writing.

She needed a distraction from her distraction.

She tried calling Cam to ask if she'd be up for a late-night workout, but she didn't answer. She probably had back-to-back clients for training at this time on a Saturday.

Harper dropped her phone on the table and flopped back on the couch, feeling restless and anxious and everything in between.

She couldn't just sit here for the rest of the night. Shooting up from the couch, she pulled her jacket on and slipped out of her apartment door into the cold winter night.

There was something about the city at night that calmed Harper, especially during the colder months.

New York was chaos incarnate, and Harper had lost count of the number of tourists and suburb-dwellers who had all but called her insane for wanting to live here.

The week between Christmas and New Year's Eve was odd. It always felt like a lull had fallen over the city, trapped in a bubble somewhere between bedlam and peace, finally slowing down without the hordes of shoppers bustling through the streets. But there were still plenty of tourists and locals out and about, enjoying the remainder of their winter vacations in the city that never sleeps.

The pandemonium of it all settled Harper, though. There was something comforting about having the knowledge that pretty much each and every person she passed on the streets of the city couldn't care enough to give her a second glance. Slipping through the masses of people unnoticed and incognito gave her a sense of anonymity that she truly believed most people desired--the ability to just disappear into the throng unrecognized.

If you lived in the city long enough, true quiet almost became unsettling. Especially when one was trying to avoid being alone with one's own thoughts.

Thoughts that were still plaguing Harper even after she'd walked several blocks, the crisp air sharpening her mind as it filled her lungs.

Harper had never had any issue with conflict resolution. She had had no choice but to learn early on in her life that the best way to get answers and solve problems was to identify where the stress was originating from, and face it head on.

It was a philosophy she had been able to employ in her professional life, always working to determine who the best source of information would be on any given topic before reaching out for an interview or a quote.

The source was always the key. The key to results, the key to closure.

And the source of her current stress was an outrageously beautiful lawyer who had been consuming her waking and sleeping thoughts for the better part of the past three months.

Whether Harper looked at it from the angle of the trial itself or the angle of her attraction to Morgan, she was at the center of it all.

Harper didn't know where her feet were taking her until she got there, standing in a hallway that had become familiar to her.

What the hell was she doing?

She shouldn't overthink it.

Steeling herself against the cacophony of turbulent emotions and thoughts that were assaulting her senses and her nervous system, she raised her fist and knocked on Morgan's door.

***

"Fucking finally," Morgan mumbled to herself. She'd been trying to catch a specific fish in her video game for over a half hour.

The trial was starting on Monday, and Morgan had reluctantly accepted that if she wasn't ready by now, then she never would be.

She'd been killing herself to prepare for it, putting in long hours at the office, barely eating or sleeping, and her mind and body were feeling it.

At Joel's insistence, she had stayed away from the office today, something she hadn't been willing to do for the past month.

And she wasn't even the least bit ashamed to admit that she had barely moved from her current position on her couch all day, rotting away playing video games and eating takeout.

A knock at her door pulled her attention from the television screen.

She narrowed her eyes in confusion and padded over to the door, stretching as she went before she looked through the peephole.

She backed up a step, smiling to herself and pulling open the door to greet her unexpected visitor.

"Harper." Morgan couldn't keep the pleased surprise out of her voice. She hadn't been expecting anyone today, least of all Harper.

"Hi," Harper said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry to just drop in."

Morgan ran her eyes over her face, recognizing the tension around her mouth and eyes immediately. "It's not a problem," she said. "Are you okay? Do you want to come in?" She stepped back and pulled the door open further.

Harper hesitated, rolling her lips together. Her adorable nose was red from the cold, her hair slightly wild, giving her an appealing windswept look. But the agitation was coming off of her in waves, and Morgan decided to make the choice for both of them.

She leaned forward and took Harper's hand, coaxing her gently through the doorway. "Come on." She offered her a soft smile.

Harper relented, allowing Morgan to draw her inside. "Give me your jacket," she said.

"I really shouldn't stay--" Harper began, but cut her words off when she saw the look Morgan was giving her.

"So what, then? You just came over to say hi and then leave? Don't offend me, Cassidy." She reached her hand out, raising an eyebrow. "Jacket."

Sheepishly, Harper removed her coat and handed it over.

Morgan glanced at her watch. It was late enough. "You look like you could use a drink. Wine?" She started moving toward the kitchen, not waiting for a response.

Behind her, Harper let out a humorless laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

Morgan winked at her as she poured a glass for each of them and handed one to Harper. "I'm remarkably good at reading people."

She tilted her head toward the living room, silently telling Harper to follow her. She took a seat on the couch, tucking her legs up under her as she turned to face Harper.

Taking a moment to observe her while Harper settled next to her, Morgan searched for visible clues about her mood. It was rare for Harper to appear so outwardly jittery.

She was dressed in work clothes, which was odd for this time of night, especially on a weekend. Morgan took another look at the pair of fitted black slacks that showed off her perfectly sculpted ass and her simple white top that was tucked neatly into her waistband.

Yum.

Morgan shook her head slightly, taking a long sip from her glass as she chastised herself. This was her friend, and she seemed to need someone to talk to right now, not a horny predator running her eyes all over her.

"I'm sorry," Harper said again. "I shouldn't have come. It's Saturday night and you've been working like crazy. You were probably enjoying your first evening off all week and--"

"Harper, please stop apologizing. I wasn't doing anything important, and I love spending time with you." Morgan took another sip to hide the flush that threatened to spread over her cheeks at her admission. "Now, tell me what's going on. Did you work today?" She offered her most charming smile.

Harper blew out a harsh breath and ran her long fingers through her gorgeous hair. Morgan refused to become distracted by it.

"Yeah. I had a few people to interview who weren't available during the week." She took a sip of wine. "I've just had a really shitty couple of days. I've been working so late that I haven't had the time or energy to eat dinner most nights, my boss is up my ass about some stupid article that no one will even read, and I haven't had a decent orgasm in four days."

The words seemed to burst out of her. Harper's mouth clamped shut and she turned redder than Morgan would have thought possible.

Morgan blinked at her, her brain taking its time absorbing each thing Harper had just said. Especially that last one.

Morgan cleared her throat and gave Harper a lopsided grin, "Um, well, I think I may be able to help with two of those three things," she said.

"Oh yeah? And how exactly are you going to convince Erin that I don't need to be wasting time writing an editorial about a congressman's poor life choices?" Harper seemed to relax a bit, leaning back and resting her arm along the back of the couch.

"Well, I'm not a miracle worker. If you want me to handle all three, I'll need Erin's number." She took a sip of wine, raising an eyebrow at Harper over her glass.

Was she crossing a line? Maybe. But how often was Harper fucking Cassidy going to be in her apartment, talking to her about her sex life?

Harper pursed her lips as Morgan's meaning dawned on her. "Funny," she said drily.

Morgan smiled in a way that she knew was flirty. "I like to think that I am." She paused. "But a lack of quality orgasms is never a laughing matter."

"That's why you shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Monroe," Harper volleyed back. The corners of her mouth quirked upward. Those hazel eyes gave Morgan a once-over, and she felt her mouth go dry.

Morgan had thought about what it would be like to fuck Harper more times than she could count. Since the night she'd met her, there hadn't been a single meeting between the two of them during which it hadn't crossed her mind at least once.

And it had only been happening more frequently in the past week now that she knew what it felt like to kiss her. She knew sex with her would be mind-blowing.

Their chemistry was off the charts, and Morgan could confidently say that she had never had a more intense reaction to someone physically.

Morgan ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass, looking at Harper through her eyelashes.

She knew that she shouldn't ask. It was inappropriate and borderline masochistic.

But she did it anyway.

"So, four days, huh? That's a long time for you?" She'd meant for the question to be teasing, but her tone came out much lower than intended.

Harper stared at her for a beat before saying, "About four days too long." She smirked at Morgan's raised eyebrows. "I have a very healthy sex life with myself. Best form of stress relief." She raised her glass in a mock toast and took a long sip. Morgan admired the curve of her neck as she tilted her head back.

The idea of Harper being responsible for her own orgasms was--fuck. It was criminal. What Morgan wouldn't give to lay her down in her bed and worship that flawless body until she forgot her name.

And the flood of mental images that accompanied Harper's words nearly had Morgan choking on her wine. Using the willpower of a saint, she shoved the visuals of Harper...relieving stress...out of her mind.

God, did she fuck herself every night?

Apparently so.

Cool. Great. Awesome.

They needed to stop talking about this.

Harper saved Morgan from answering her, though, when she said, "Not that I have the time or energy for it anymore."

Morgan swallowed the offer to do it for her, attempting to disguise her arousal by burying her face in her wineglass. Recentering herself, she asked, "Have you been extra stressed lately?" If the growing ache between her legs was any indication, she desperately needed to steer this conversation in a direction that didn't leave her wondering what types of toys Harper used on herself.

"Yes," Harper said, with a breathy sigh, but didn't elaborate. She gave Morgan a half-hearted smile.

"I hope I'm not contributing to it," she said, reaching over and squeezing her hand once, worried that the work they were doing was pushing Harper past her limits.

Harper's eyes shot to her hand, and then her gaze came up to meet Morgan's slowly. She tilted her head in a thoughtful, unfairly attractive way as she said quietly, "You aren't. At least, not in the way you're probably thinking."

The air between them felt charged. Morgan didn't know what to say to that. The silence stretched between them until Morgan finally opened her mouth to respond.

But Harper broke eye contact, noticing the television screen, where Morgan's character was waiting patiently to deliver her prized fish to the villager who had asked for it.

Harper pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, holding back a grin. "Is this what you do to decompress?" Her eyes sparked with amusement.

Morgan refused to be embarrassed, especially when she knew her island was impressive as fuck. She smiled. "Video games have always been a pretty good outlet for me to just shut my mind off and relax. Luckily, you've caught me on a night where I chose a peaceful sandbox game over a more violent one."

Harper laughed. "Your island better be five stars. Otherwise, I don't know if I can associate with you anymore."

Morgan scoffed. "Of course it is." She turned back to Harper. "But I also like to use physical activity to work out stress."

Something darkened in Harper's previously playful gaze. "Yeah?"

"I try to go to the gym before work most days, even if it's just for a little while. It didn't take me long to learn that getting tension out preemptively can be very helpful as a lawyer--"

Morgan froze, mid-sentence, when she felt Harper's fingertips ghosting over the back of her hand. She tensed, but didn't pull her hand away, her gaze falling to those perfectly manicured fingernails. Her thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, over her pulse, and Morgan felt her breath catch in her throat. She raised her gaze to find Harper staring at her, big hazel eyes searching her face intently. Harper chewed on the inside of her cheek, anxiety painting her flawless features.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked. She turned her hand over on the couch between them, capturing Harper's long fingers and squeezing reassuringly.

She watched as Harper drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before she said, "Morgan, what if we--" her words were cut off by an uneasy laugh. She ran her free hand through her hair. Concerned, Morgan turned on the couch to face her fully.

Something seemed to shift in Harper's demeanor as her gaze locked onto Morgan's again and she said, "What if we got it out of our systems? Just once?"

Morgan registered the delightfully husky tone of Harper's voice before she could even think about the words she had said. She blinked at Harper, feeling her brow furrow and her eyes narrow as she tried to decipher the look in Harper's intense stare.

Morgan considered her ability to read people, their body language and the words they left unsaid, to be one of her greatest strengths. It had been an invaluable skill in the courtroom, telling her when she should back off or continue to push a witness. One quick look at the jury and she could tell whether their case was having an impact. Those skills had translated well into her personal life as well.

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