Page 22 of Will (Men of Bird's Eye)

“Sweet dreams,” he says, his voice closer now, near my ear. Then I feel the lightest brush of lips against my temple.Derek’s lips.

“Wait,” I say. “I’m not ready.”

“Ready for what?” he asks.

“To fall asleep,” I whisper.

“Why not?” he asks.

I sigh, cuddling to his side. “Because this is nice. And I’m not even dreaming. And I want to hold onto it a little longer.”

The feel of Derek’s fingers trace along my jawline, then sweep over my ear, only pausing for a moment at my admission.

“Willette,” he whispers again.

“Yes, Derek?” I respond, my voice low and a tad slurred.

“I think I’d like to kiss you,” he says. “But I don’t want to kiss you right now. Not while you’re drunk.”

Derek Tanner just said he wants to kiss me.

Derek Tanner. Wants to kiss me. Willette Archer.My brain is melting and I’m too drunk to reconcile everything I’m feeling.Did he really just say that?

Why? Why would he want to kiss me?I’m not his type, not by a mile. And I’ve never been quite on his level in any facet of life. He’s more successful, has a career, and drives a fuckingMercedes,for fuck’s sake. My decade-old Nissan has more dents and scratches than I can count.

This doesn’t make sense. Tomorrow I will wake up and the world will be right again. Derek won’t be in bed with me—touching my face, gently kissing my skin, or confessing his desire to kiss me more. We’ll be back to normal. I’ll give Joe a call, and Derek will be back to dating some nurse and moving out soon.

“Willette,” he whispers a third time, and my body can hardly take it. Each one is softer than the last, more sensual. My stomach is beginning to tie itself into delicious knots.

“Yes?” I manage.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

It’s the last thing I hear before sleep finally takes me, spreading a warm, comforting feeling all over.

WISHING WELLS

DEREK

Last night after Willette drifted to sleep, I lied there watching her for a long while. My body was restless, humming. I was very aware of her barely clothed body next to mine, pressed up against me. The barrier of the blanket did nothing to stifle my senses.

I’d finally been able to fall asleep myself, but only after studying her face for what felt like hours. My eyes traced over her jawline, the gentle slope of her nose, the way her eyes fluttered as she cycled through REM. But listening to her breathing is what finally did me in. The soft rhythm was like a lullaby. I never reallylookedat Willette, not like this. Not feature by feature, line by line, curve by curve.

Of course, this morning I’m still lying here, like some freak, soaking up these memories of watching her sleep. She’s still beside me, still sleeping like a brick. I swear I didn’t feel her move at all last night.

I’ve been too afraid to move myself, not wanting to wake her. But based on what the clock says across the room, soon I won’t have a choice. I have to start getting ready for work and I’m sure she does as well.

I turn over, her face so close to mine, I can feel her breath against my skin. Maybe I can give her ten more minutes.

A moment later, Willette’s eyes open, fluttering and finally coming to rest on my face.

“Oh shit,” she says.

I smile, because of course those are her first words. Makes perfect sense for her.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I whisper. There’s not really a reason to whisper. We’re alone, but in the early hours of the morning, it feels right.

“What did I do?” she asks, pulling the cover up over half her face.

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