Page 77 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

Willa let out a contented sigh as she came down from her high. Her arms wrapped around my back and her legs around my ass.

“I think you killed me, woman,” I murmured into her hair, making her giggle. I took one last drag of her sweet scent and lifted up to see her face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? That got a little rougher than I’d planned.”

“I’m perfect. You were perfect.”

This woman. She always knew exactly what I needed to hear. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this but thank you. I’m honored you wanted it to be me.”

Willa swallowed and looked to the ceiling, blinking furiously as she tried to keep the tears away.

“Come on.” I kissed the tip of her nose, then pulled out of her slowly, knowing she’d be sore. “Let’s take a shower.”

I stood first, then scooped her up in my arms to carry her into the bathroom. When the water was hot, I helped her under the spray.

It was a tight space for two people, but we made it work. As she stood close, I took my time washing her hair and body, savoring the steam filled with the smell of her coconut-and-vanilla shampoo. When we were both clean, dry and exhausted, I carried her back to bed and tucked us in.

“Good night,” Willa whispered, snuggling her back into my chest.

“Night, babe.” I closed my eyes and relaxed into her down pillows.

My arms pulled her even closer as peace settled over her dark bedroom. Being here, being Willa’s big spoon, was exactly the right place. Things just felt right.

“Jackson?”

“Hmm?”

Her hand slipped under mine. “Thank you.”

“For what? Sex?” I chuckled. “You don’t ever have to thank me for sex.”

“No.” She laughed. “Not for sex. For making a dream come true.”

She’d done it again. She said things that made my heart beat too hard. She said things that made me unable to speak.

So I kissed her hair and held her close as she dozed off.

I was glad I’d been able to give her this dream. Some other man—a man who believed in love—would get her others.

But at least I’d gotten this one.

“Morning, babe.” Jackson wrapped his arms around me as I stood at the stove. “What are we trying for breakfast today?”

I smiled up at him. “French toast.”

“Sounds good. Want more coffee?”

“Sure.”

He kissed my neck before letting me go and grabbing my mug. He went to the other side of my kitchen to refill it, delivering it with another kiss, then he got out his own coffee cup from the cupboard. After he filled it, he leaned against the counter to watch me cook.

He was wearing nothing more than a pair of navy boxers, his muscles on full display. His eyes were still heavy with sleep as he sipped his coffee. The longer strands of his hair on top were disheveled.

It was my favorite time with Jackson.

Had I known how handsome he was in the morning, I would have worked harder to get his attention all those years ago.

Not even the view of the lake in the spring with the flowers in bloom after a long winter, with the grass neon green and the mountains royal blue in the distance, was as beautiful as the sight of Jackson Page standing in my kitchen drinking coffee.

It had been over a month since the first night we’d had sex, and Jackson hadn’t slept at his own house once. He’d settled into my tiny loft apartment so quickly it was hard to remember what it had been like here without him.