Page 56 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

“No. I just…” I wipe my face as the tears leak down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. Nobody has ever called me that before and it’s … nice. More than nice.”

His smile graces his face. “It’s the truth. You’re beautiful and you’re mine. Right, Kinley? You’re mine?”

I swallow. “Yours.”

It seems like the rest of our clothes disappear in a blur of fumbling hands and soft curses. He nearly trips when he takes off his jeans and stumbles when I help him get my bra off. We stare intensely at each other when we’re completely exposed, and I have the need to cover my body with the comforter because of it.

He doesn’t let me though. When he climbs on the bed, he kisses me softly, intently, with purpose. Murmuring compliments, making me blush, his fingers trail over my naked skin and make me squirm. Heat rises between my legs when his hands draw nearer to a place only mine has ever been.

“We can stop,” he reminds me.

My hands grip his shoulders. “Do you think we’re moving too fast? It’s only been a few weeks since we even admitted we like each other. And we just talked about the whole inexperience thing and kissing and Sabrina Christy and—”

“You remember her name?” He chuckles.

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head, kissing me again. “I don’t think we know how to go slow, Little Bird. We’re meant to soar. Fly. Do what we want. You and I defy all odds, don’t you think?”

I take a deep breath and find myself nodding again, cupping his face and tracing his features as he watches me.

He captures my lips with his again and whispers, “Fly with me, Little Bird.”

And I do.

The moment is slow and painful and awkward, but beautiful and emotional and consuming. He gives me pain and takes it away with sobering kisses and covers my soft noises and accepts my scraping nails.

Corbin Callum and I cement something that makes me feel like a different person. Happy. Loved. Cared for. Scared. Nervous. Excited. I give him something that I have no doubt I’ll remember for life.

We fly. Soar just like he says.

When it’s over, we both get dressed—me in his AC/DC sweatshirt and my pajamas, and him in his tank top and jeans.

For the longest moment, we just lay there in silence, catching our breaths and absorbing the moment. My chest tightens, and my core hurts, and my eyes prickle with the swelling emotion from what we’ve done.

“Corbin?”

“Hmm.”

“How did you even get in here?”

“Climbed the tree by the hallway window,” he murmurs sleepily.

I sit up slightly. “You did not!”

He looks over and grins at me. “Your family keeps the spare key on the top of the door jamb, Kinley. It’s not hard to find.”

Shaking my head, I smile to myself and move closer into his side. “You have a habit of stalking me, Corbin Callum.”

“Why the full name?”

“You’re not denying the stalker claims?”

“I only stalk the pretty ones.”

“Wow.” I laugh into his chest which I use as a pillow despite the others around us. “You should try getting cast as Ted Bundy in a Lifetime movie. You’d be perfect.”

“Hardy har har.”

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