Page 74 of Sing For Me

Will

For the first time ever, I wake up in Eva’s bed.

That sweet citrus smell I associate with her is all around me in these sheets, strong enough to make my head spin. Even better than her scent is the sight of her face half-buried in the pillow next to me. Eva’s still sleeping, her chest rising in a gentle, steady cadence, auburn lashes fanned out over her porcelain skin, freckles dotting her nose. Her pajamas—a tank top and shorts set—are pink and covered with little robots and she has her hands tucked under her cheek. The softest rumbling snore escapes from her freckle covered nose every few minutes—fucking adorable.

She looks younger in her sleep, more vulnerable, and it hits me like a blow to the stomach all over again, what happened last night. She let her guard down with me, opened up. Showed me her scars—both figurative and literal. And then she’d let me love all that fear away.

It makes my breath hitch in my chest, this knowledge that I’m the person she trusted enough to do that with. And if there’s a sliver of guilt mixed in there somewhere, a whispered voice reminding me that I haven’t been entirely open with her, it’s easy enough to ignore while visions of Eva half-naked and heartbreakingly beautiful run through my mind.

Her eyelashes flutter, a soft groan escaping. She stretches a little, burrowing more fully into her pillow, and I’m grinning so hard my face hurts. She’s just so fucking cute.

No one would even recognize me right now, with this goofy smile on my face and something I suspect might be giddiness running through my veins. But laying here watching Eva, I don’t give a shit how stupid I look.

She groans again and this time when her eyelashes flutter, she opens her eyes. She blinks a few times before her gaze catches on mine. And I see the exact same goofy smile stretch across her face.

“Good morning,” she whispers and I reach out to smooth some wild red curls away from her face. That fucking hair, man. It does something to me, especially when it’s messy like this, mussed from my fingers the night before.

“Morning, honey.” Her cheeks pink up a little at the endearment and the fact that she’s still shyly blushing after everything we did last night has me reaching for her, pulling her into my arms, the press of so much bare skin along mine making me shudder with desire.

“I was a little afraid I dreamed you,” she whispers as I brush gentle kisses across her forehead and cheeks. When I get to her lips, she pulls back, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Nuh uh,” she says, words muffled by her hand. “Not until I brush my teeth.”

I roll my eyes. Like a little morning breath is going to lessen her appeal in the slightest.

“Guess I’ll have to find something else to kiss then,” I mutter, sliding down her body, pressing my lips against her delicate collar bone.

She snorts out a laugh, grabbing the sides of my head to hold me in place. “That was a terrible line, Will Ransome.”

I rest my chin on her chest and look up at her and the grin on her face sends warmth radiating through me. There’s something different about her this morning, something lighter. Easier. Her smile seems effortless, her eyes relaxed. There’s a light radiating from this girl so bright it almost hurts. She almost seems like a different person—or, rather, like the girl I know just turned up louder.

Her walls are down. She’s not wearing a mask of fear and doubt. And that makes her about ten times more beautiful than she already was.

I wonder if this is how she was before the fire as she runs her fingertips through my hair, nails scratching across my scalp and making me hiss in pleasure.

“I know we kind of left things up in the air last night,” she murmurs, and my chest clenches. A timeout, I remember her saying. I had hoped that once my lips met hers she would forget all about the just friends thing, but maybe I was wrong.

She studies my eyes and I try to shutter the disappointment I’m feeling.

“I’m not ready for the break to be over,” she murmurs and my face breaks out into a smirk.

“Thank God.”

She laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest and I swear I’ve never grinned this big in my life.

“I don’t have any clients today.” My voice is low and gravely, filled with emotions I don’t know how to name. “I was gonna go in to get some work done in the office but…”

Her eyes twinkle down at me. “But what?”

“I think I’ll stay right here instead.”

She brushes soft fingertips over my forehead. “Sounds good to me.”

This time it’s my stomach’s turn to interrupt us. “Breakfast,” she says, smacking my shoulder. “Then more kisses.”

I offer to make pancakes and amusement sparkles in her eyes. “How can I turn down pancakes from Vega Ransome’s assistant?” But a quick glance in her cupboards shows that she wasn’t joking last night when she said she needed groceries. I can’t even find milk or eggs in her fridge.

“Sorry, I should have asked Marissa to go first thing.” She shoots me a worried glance, like she’s embarrassed that she has someone shop for her, and I feel bad for joking that she was a diva last night.

“My dad uses one of those delivery services,” I tell her, wanting her expression to go back to the soft easiness of a few minutes ago. “My mom always tells him that she can just do the shopping, if he’s so worried about getting recognized, but it makes him feel like a big deal to have his food delivered.”