He keeps moving, prolonging the pleasure until I’m trembling. Then his rhythm turns erratic, harder, and more desperate.
"I’m going to come." His voice is ragged. "Going to fill you up. Make you mine."
"Yes." I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper. "Yes. Yours. I’m yours."
He buries himself to the hilt and comes with a deep, shuddering groan. I feel every pulse of his release. It’s hot and thick as it floods me. He breathes my name against my neck as his body trembles through the aftershocks.
We stay locked together, trembling, as the world slowly comes back into focus. But I don’t want reality. I want this. I want him.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are soft and tender.
"Hey." He brushes the hair from my face. "You okay?"
I don’t know how to answer. I’m the opposite of okay. I’m cracked wide open, every defense lying in ruins. But for the first time in my life… I don’t want to rebuild them.
"Yeah." I pull him down for a soft, slow kiss. "I’m okay."
He rolls to his side, taking me with him and keeping us connected. One hand traces lazy patterns on my hip while the other slips through my hair.
"Stay," he murmurs against my temple. "Not just tonight. Stay here with me and see what this could be." His arms tighten around me.
My heart rate ticks up. I think about California and my practice. I think about the life I built on the belief that love was a trap. I think about the way my mother wasted away waiting on a cowboy who never grew up.
Then I think about the man lying next to me. Walker stayed. He chose a crying baby and a broken heart.
"Okay," I whisper. Even now, I don’t know what I’m agreeing to. It’s all happening so fast. But I can’t deny that for the first time in my life, love feels like a chance worth taking.
10
walker
Somewhere in the early evening, I get the message that Lucy is sleeping over at Patty June’s place. So I spend the night worshipping Eliza’s gorgeous curves.
I wake with the sun, and she’s still in my arms. It feels too good to be true. For a moment, I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I just lie there in the gray morning light and let the reality of it sink in.
Eliza Kingridge is curled against my chest. One hand is splayed over my heart, and her dark hair spills across my pillow. She’s soft in sleep, all those sharp edges smoothed away. The furrow between her brows is gone. The tension in her jaw has melted. She looks peaceful.
She looks like mine.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, and she stirs, nuzzling deeper into me. My chest aches with something I haven’t felt in years. It’s something I’d convinced myself I’d never feel again.
The storm has passed. Weak sunlight filters through the curtains, casting pale stripes across the bed. Outside, I can hear the drip of water from the eaves and the distant low of cattle. The world kept turning while we were wrapped up in each other.
It’s hard to believe.
I press a kiss to her forehead, and her eyes flutter open. For a heartbeat, she looks at me with such unguarded warmth that my breath catches.
Then I watch the walls go back up.
It happens fast. One second, she’s soft and sleepy. Next, she’s pulling away. Eliza sits up and clutches the sheet to her chest like armor. Her eyes dart around the room, and I can practically see the panic setting in.
“Hey.” I reach for her, but she flinches. “Eliza. It’s okay.”
“What time is it?” Her voice is clipped and professional—the kind I imagine she uses in court right before she eviscerates someone. A far cry from the vulnerability of last night.
“It’s early. Just a little after six.”
“Lucy—”
