And he’s right. I do know what I like and want, and somehow, having him trust and believe that about myself, sends a surge of confidence as well as a fresh wave of desire through me.
I decide to be brave.
I lower my hands to loop around Will’s neck. He adjusts to look into my eyes—trying to read me as always. Trying to get one step ahead. Before he can, I rise up and firmly press my mouth to his. He sucks in a sharp breath and his hands grip me tighter.
I’ve been so measured and controlled and careful my whole life, and I can’t bring myself to be that way tonight. I want to be lost for a while.
I hop up and Will catches me as I wrap my legs around his waist. His mouth explores mine in deep, hot caresses and before I know it, my back is landing gently on the mattress. I scoot up to the pillow, noticing that it smells like Will, a crisp, clean scent. He climbs over me and presses his mouth down onto mine, coaxing and so sensual I’m drunk and dazed.
“Beautiful,” he says reverently after his hands slide up my hips and ribs and peel my shirt off. He kisses my stomach, and then runs his tongue around the rim of my belly button. “And you’re so sweet.” But this time, when he says sweet, I don’t cringe. My stomach swoops because only Will can call me sweet in a way that does not feel sweet.
It doesn’t take long for us to lose every stitch of clothing. And when we are skin to skin, I should feel scared. Terrified. Instead, the tops of Will’s bare shoulders are backlit by the moon, and I study the shape of his muscles as they shift and flex. I’m relaxed and safe and joyful—and completely in awe of the way his body moves with confident ease. How his hands glide over me with tender care and expert precision. And for the rest of the night, we get lost in the sheets and Will teaches me things I never knew I needed to learn.
Time moves too quickly, and I know for the rest of my life I’ll remember this night with Will in this room. I’ll remember the flashes of his dark eyes, and his hands pressed into the mattress beside my face. His forearms flexing and our bodies together. I’ll remember the taste of sweat and the smell of body wash and the warmth of our shower somewhere around two A.M.
And at some point, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon just as tenderly as Will is kissing my shoulder, when we’re both exhausted and in desperate need of sleep, Will pulls me back against his chest, wrapping his arm tightly around my body to just hold me, and I don’t think anything could be more perfect.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Will
I hold Annie’s hand as we walk through town toward the diner the next morning. It took a monumental effort for me to get out of bed and come with her to breakfast rather than asking her to take up residence with me in that room and never leave. She…Annie…Was…And I…We…
So good.
I’ve had sex before, and it’s always been great, but never in my life have I made love to someone. And I can now say with absolute certainty—there’s nothing like it. And now that I’ve had Annie in my arms, I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else.
We walk in companionable silence until something catches Annie’s eye and she pulls me to a stop. “Hang on,” she says, letting go to take a few steps backward and look over her shoulder. She gasps. “Oh my gosh, I knew it.”
“What is it?” I ask, following her gaze to Comfort Quilts across the street. Through the glass I can see way too many people crammed into one place. “What the hell is happening in there?”
I can now feel the anger radiating from Annie as she pulls her hand from my grip and plants it sternly on her hip. God—her hips. No, not going there right now. “An impromptu town meeting, that’s what.” I watch Annie truck it across the street, ponytail swinging wildly behind her. I’m doing everything I can to keep up, but I’ve never seen this woman so determined. Except for maybe last night. （Again, not thinking about it.）
“I’m guessing you’re not happy there’s an impromptu town meeting?”
“Not when I wasn’t invited to it. That can only mean one thing.”
“What?”
She whips around just outside of the shop door. “They’re talking about us.”
“Oh. That’s all? Come on, let’s go get breakfast.” I try to tug her hand to follow me, but she won’t budge.
“Does it not bother you that they’re all in there discussing our business without us?”
I laugh. “Not a bit. They’re always discussing everyone’s business without them.”