Still, I didn’t even ask her enough about herself tonight. I haveno idea how much she drank back at the bar, and with emotions running high after finding the kittens, it didn’t feel fair to complicate things any further. She deserves better than that. Better than me, maybe. But I can’t help the way she gets under my skin, the way her laugh echoes in my chest or the way her touch lingers on me like it’s burned there.
I let out a heavy sigh, my hand wrapped firmly around my shaft as I drag the skin up, the motion smooth and deliberate as I press back down, letting the pressure build until my balls tighten and my spine tingles. My mind keeps circling back to her—her lips, her body, the way she gasped when my fingers found her slit. I can still feel the way she clenched around me, tight and sweet, like she never wanted me to leave.
The image of her flashes behind my closed eyes, vivid and impossible to ignore. Her hips arching toward me, her breath hitching as I imagine burying my cock inside her, slow and steady until there’s no space left between us. The thought is enough to push me over the edge but when I bring my fingers to my nose to smell her scent, my strokes go frantic.
A low groan escapes me as I stroke faster, my breath ragged, and after a few more punishing seconds, I spill hot and thick across my stomach. My chest rises and falls as I come down from the high, the tension in my body giving way to a bone-deep exhaustion.
I reach for the edge of the blanket, wiping myself clean with a corner before tucking myself back into my boxers. It’s not my finest moment, but I don’t care. The only thing I care about right now is Teagan.
I settle back into the couch, the cushions lumpy and unforgiving, but none of that matters. My eyes drift shut, and she’s all I see—her smile, her sharp wit, the way she looked at me tonight like I might actually be someone worth trusting.
As sleep pulls me under, I make a silent promise to myself. Tomorrow, I’ll get it right. Tomorrow, I’ll find the words. BecauseTeagan deserves more than just my silence, my clumsy attempts to figure out how to keep her close. She deserves everything, and I’m starting to think I might be the man to give it to her.
Chapter 6 – Teagan
A loud crow's call echoes outside the window as I open my eyes. I reach up to rub them sleepily and stretch, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings of Wilder’s pool house that I’ve slept in all night, now in the daylight.
I check the time on my phone—six a.m. already. Sleep has been a stranger to me lately. Between the anxiety over returning to Houston and gearing up for another semester of school, I’ve been on edge. Helping Shawna plan her wedding has added to the chaos. Late nights have become the norm as I sift through old undergraduate notes, my mind constantly buzzing, never quite able to settle. It’s a strange mix of nervous excitement about the future, and a feeling of being an imposter in my own life.
But last night… last night was different. After Wilder, with his quiet intensity and skillful hands, gave me an earth-shattering orgasm with nothing more than his mouth, sleep came easy. And not just easy—deep, uninterrupted. For the first time in months, I actually slept. Not a stir, not a single restless turn. It’s not lost on me that it’s the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.
Sure, I wasn’t planning on jumping into bed with the first guy I meet while visiting a new city for my sister’s bacheloretteweekend, but I wasn’t kidding when I told Wilder that guys who love animals are a major weakness of mine. And, well, it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot as hell, broody in that way that makes me want to unravel him. Very different from the guys I’ve casually dated back in college—those who wear their arrogance like armor, acting as if they have everything figured out while still stumbling through life like everyone else is.
Wilder, on the other hand, has a quiet confidence, a sense of knowing that makes me feel like maybe none of us actually know what we’re doing, and that’s okay. He’s quiet in the way that has me leaning in, listening closely when he finally does speak. I know I’m on the precipice of a big shift in my personal life in a few weeks and maybe this is the catalyst that I need to push me into my new studies.
I strip off Wilder’s button-up shirt, the one that I’d fallen asleep in, and hang it over the bedframe. Then I tug on my tight, black dress and heels from the bar last night, feeling every inch of the discomfort that’s been hidden under the cover of darkness.
I stand back up to look in the lone mirror in the room and immediately cringe at my reflection. I look ridiculous. What was I thinking, letting Shawna convince me to wear this? In the dim, late-night hours, I could almost pretend I felt good in it, but now, in the harsh light of morning that’s streaming through one of the pool house windows, it’s all too clear—my face, smudged mascara and all, says how awkward I feel. I just hope Wilder doesn’t look at me the way I’m starting to look at myself: like a one-night stand who’s now about to do her first ever walk of shame.
I quietly tiptoe to the door, heart pounding in my chest, and slowly crack it open. Through the narrow gap, I see him already awake—his back to me as he works in the cramped kitchen of the pool house. The sizzle of eggs and sausage fills the air, mingling with the rich, earthy scent of freshly brewed coffee. I take a deep breath, savoring the warmth and comfort of the moment andthe way it feels familiar.
He’s shirtless now, wearing only a pair of jeans that hang low on his hips, the fabric stretched tight against his strong, muscular frame. His back is like something carved from stone, every muscle rippling beneath his skin as he stirs the eggs, or reaches for his mug. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him last night, but now I can’t tear my eyes away. His body is a perfect balance of strength and lean grace—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and not an ounce of fat on his bones.
There’s a gentle twang of country music playing softly from a speaker nearby, and the whole scene feels like something straight out of a cowboy romance novel. The kind where the hero doesn’t even need to speak to make your pulse race. One look of his stormy eyes and you’re on your knees, begging to take his cock for breakfast. And frankly, after last night, I’d like to.
"Have a seat and let me feed you," he commands without turning around, catching me completely off guard and making me jump. Thankfully, his quiet demeanor means I won't have to endure a barrage of questions for being caught obviously and unashamedly, drooling over him. I wipe at my mouth because yup, there’s drool there and then pad towards one of the empty chairs surrounding the tiny kitchen counter.
He turns around, a big grin stretched across his handsome face as he places a plate in front of me. My eyes shamelessly fall to his boxy abs and then move lower, trying to see if I can find any remnants of what happened last night. I’ve never had a guy come in their pants before and that might have been the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
He grins like he knows what I’m checking for. “I changed my clothes.”
I nod and bite my lip, trying to conceal my smirk.
“Didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in that.”
I choke on a laugh as he raises his brows. “Are you hungry?”
I nod, “This looks amazing. Thank you for cooking. I wasn’t… expecting this.” Because I really was expecting to wake up and be taken back to the bar and on my merry way.
He slides the plate toward me, his gaze never leaving mine as I pick up the silverware and take a bite. I feel his eyes on me, tracking the movement of my lips as I chew slowly. In the daylight, he’s even more striking. A hint of stubble dusts his jawline, adding a rugged edge to his already chiseled features. His dark brown hair is a mess but in a way that I love with a single, dark curl falling on his forehead. His piercing green eyes, the same shade as my own, catch the morning light just perfectly. Green has always been my favorite color, but it looks even better on him—an intense shade that seems to capture me.
I’ve never had a one-night-stand make breakfast for me, or watch me this closely while I eat it, but oddly, it feels normal and comforting doing this with Wilder. In a weird way, it feels like we’re friends, bonded over what we did last night. The guy doesn’t talk much but I get the sense that he’s extremely observant to make up for that.
He clears his throat. “I’m going to jump in the shower and then I’ll take you home. Your sister’s house? Or the bar?”
I can’t hide my disappointment that he’s trying to get rid of me already, but I nod as I take another long sip of my coffee to conceal my expression. “My sister’s fiancé’s house is where I'm spending the weekend. You can take me there.”
He nods again, then turns without another word and heads toward the bedroom to shower.
