I don’t have much time to dwell on it before Walker returns with a warm washcloth to wipe me clean and I fight every instinct to close my legs.
There’s a rare vulnerability in letting someone care for me like this, yet with Walker I’m at ease. I get the sense he’s being attentive because he wants to be, not out of obligation, and that speaks volumes. Even so, my mind races, unable to stop wondering if I’m supposed to leave now or what happens next, since we’ve never discussed this part of our arrangement.
Walker tosses the washcloth into a hamper by the dresser, then moves to the bed and lifts the covers on the empty side, motioning me under. I don’t overthink it, crawling beneath the warm blankets. I watch as he slides in beside me, drawing me against him so we’re face-to-face.
He brushes a kiss against my forehead as I settle my hand on his chest.
“Stay the night.”
I glance up at him, nibbling my lip. “Are you sure? Is that normal in this situation?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Walker admits, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I’ve never brought another woman to my place before, let alone asked her to spend the night.”
“Oh.” That’s not the answer I was expecting. “Did you have me get into bed before asking so I’d be less likely to say no?” I tease, swatting his chest.
“Maybe.” He smirks. “Is it working?”
I meet his gaze and press a soft peck to his lips, draping my leg over his torso, settling in against him.
“Yeah, it is,” I murmur.
This suddenly feels like another turning point in our relationship—another step on a path that could change everything for better or worse. As my hand drifts absently over Walker’s chest, I’m struck by the realization that even with my limited experience, no man will ever measure up to Walker Halstead.
“Thank you for trusting me to be your first,” he murmurs into my hair.
As I lie curled up against him, a wishful thought slips into my mind: what if there’s a chance he could be my one and only too?
Head Over Boots
Istir as golden sunlight spills through the blinds, casting a soft glow across my bedroom ceiling. Part of me is afraid to get up, convinced last night was too good to be real and must have been a dream. The familiar scent of vanilla drifts through my senses, giving me the courage to crack an eye open, and I sigh in relief when I find Birdie curled beside me, her blonde hair a tangled mess on the pillow. One arm is draped across my chest, the other tucked beneath her chin.
She responded to my every touch last night as if she were made for me, each movement drawing another low moan or gasp until she was begging for release. I half expected her to shy away afterward, but she surprised me by lacing her fingers in mine and murmuring her thanks as she drifted off to sleep.
I’m the one who should be thanking her for showing me what true happiness feels like. I was blinded for so long thinking fleeting connections were enough, when all along nothing could compare to the way it felt being inside her for the first time, claiming her just as fiercely as she claimed me.
Birdie’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, a faint smile playing on her lips. I lean in, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I think I’m falling in love with you, Birdie, baby,” I whisper.
There’s a sense of peace in saying those words out loud and admitting the truth—even if only to myself.
Birdie Matterson is my endgame. I may have been her first, but I fully intend to be her last.
I’ve lived a life without her in it, where she was just a friend, and now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to call her mine, there’s no going back. I’ll wait as long as it takes to convince her that what we share isn’t temporary. We belong together, and I intend to fight for our future and earn my place in her heart. I can only hope she understands that everything I’ve done for her reflects how much she means to me—including looking after the people who matter most to her.
I brush a loose strand of hair from Birdie’s face, taking in every detail—from the way the sunlight dances along the curve of her cheek to the birthmark I discovered earlier on the top of her left shoulder. I’m still not sure how I got so damn lucky to be the one she trusted enough to spend the night with, but I’m not taking a single second for granted.
After several minutes, her lashes finally flutter open, and she blinks up at me with a soft smile.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Good morning.” I shift to hover over her, brushing a kiss across her lips. “How did you sleep? Are you sore?”
“A little, but in a good way,” she admits, a flush coloring her cheeks.
“Don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart,” I say, trailing a finger along her jawline. “There’s no shame in admitting you enjoyed all the things we did last night.”
She playfully swats my arm, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re too smug for my liking.” My lips trail along her collarbone as my hand slides over her hip. “Walker, what are you doing?”
