Page 60 of All Your Firsts Without Me

His head bops up. “I… I was worried you might feel guilty.”

I run my finger over his brow, soothing his worry away. “How could I feel guilty about this. I felt your love. I hope you felt mine.”

He kisses me softly, his forearms braced on each side of my head.

“It was just you and me. Nothing else existed outside this bed.” I bite my lip, hoping he understands what I am trying to say.

He kisses my forehead. Whispering against my skin, “I love you.”

My stomach takes this moment to growl, loudly. I groan in embarrassment, but he only laughs. I like the way his body vibrates against mine. “Come on, let’s go heat up that casserole I worked all day on. We can’t let it go to waste.”

He slips his t-shirt over my head before pulling my panties up my legs. He grabs his boxers and his prosthetic and that is all he wears.

“I don’t know if I can concentrate on eating if that’s all you’re going to put on,” I tell him, playfully slapping him on the butt as we head back out to the dining room. Lucky picks her head up, giving us a sleepy one-eyed once over before dropping back to sleep.

“So, this doesn’t bother you?” he asks, pointing to his leg.

“God, no. I wasn’t lying when I said you were hot.”

He laughs, pulling me into his chest and kissing me soundly on the mouth. “I’m never letting you go.”

“Thank you, for being patient with me. I know I’m not easy,” I murmur quietly, laying my head against his chest.

“The best things never are,” he says.

I squeeze him around the waist so tight he grunts. “I don’t want you to ever let me go.”

“I won’t, baby. I won’t.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Westin

We stood at the counter and finished our dinner, her in my t-shirt and me in only my boxers. Now that we’ve crossed the bridge of intimacy, things seem easier.

She’s surrendered to the idea of us.

“You want to go check out my recording room?”

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly.

She spins in a circle once inside the room. “Why don’t you sing your own songs? Why do you sell them to someone else?”

I grab a tablet and pen, setting them in front of her as she sits down in the middle of the floor. “I don’t like being the center of attention, I guess.”

“But you used to be a star football player.”

Grabbing my guitar, I plop down beside her. “Yeah, that was before. I’m not as confident as I was back then. Honestly, I don’t really want all the attention. I want a quiet life. Touring around the country doesn’t appeal to me.”

“I can see that. My publisher’s been pushing me to do some book signings, but I don’t want the attention either,” she says, curling her legs under her. She picks up the tablet. “What’s this for?”

“That song we’re going to write together. I thought maybe we could start tonight,” I tease, running my fingers over the strings on my guitar.

She closes her eyes. I know she can’t resist the music. She starts humming and then words start pouring from her. When she opens her eyes, pausing, I pick up where she left off, creating another verse. She grabs the paper and pen and frantically starts scratching out the lyrics. I lean over and take the pen from her, adding a few notes myself.

We laugh and joke and sing and before we know it several hours have passed. “I’m hungry, want to take a break and grab a snack?” I ask, standing and stretching.

Her eyes roam hungrily over my body. God, she makes me feel good… wanted.

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