“Can I stay with you tonight? You said I could.” She took a hesitant step across the threshold, entering his domain. It took a lot of bravery on her end to do that.
He reached over to the empty side of his king-size bed and pulled back the covers in silent invitation. She needed him, his body heat, his presence, nothing more for now; he understood that. But the primal creature inside him growled in possessive pleasure as she padded over on bare feet and climbed into bed with him. She settled deep into the covers, her face angled toward the window. He lay behind her, fascinated by the moonlight that seemed to make her cheeks glow like alabaster with a hint of rose. A lock of her hair lay across her cheek and he delicately swept it behind her ear. She shivered a little and rolled on her back to stare up into his eyes.
“Wes…it still hurts.” Thick tears pooled in her eyes and he used the pads of his fingers to brush them away. “Part of me still feels like…like I’m dying. How is that possible?”
He didn’t want to talk about Fenn, especially not about her feelings for him, but it was unavoidable.
“First loves are often the hardest to forget. They cut deeper into a soul. You can’t forget them overnight, but…” He stared back at her, solemn. “You can move on. Fill your days with other things, new things. You might wake up one day and realize what you felt was more a shadow of something greater you will feel someday for someone else.” He wanted her to forget Fenn, but that wouldn’t happen. She would someday find a man to love, a better man, but he didn’t want to think of that, either. He wanted her, here, now, while she was just like this, a woman about to explore the world. He would be her first in many ways.
“Who was your first love?” she asked.
The question was so unexpected that he blinked. His first love? He’d never…he closed off his heart long ago. No woman had yet breached that impenetrable fortress around his heart. It was better this way. If you didn’t love, you didn’t hurt. So he lusted and desired. That was good enough.
Callie reached up and placed a hand on his bare shoulder, her skin soft and her touch light.
“You haven’t loved,” she guessed, a knowing shrewdness to her gaze that amazed him. She was so perceptive for one so young.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The sincerity in her tone made him blush.
“Why?” he asked.
“Isn’t loving the same as living? If you can’t feel pain, you can’t feel alive. And loving hurts sometimes.” She nibbled her bottom lip, her eyes distant now, lost in her own pain.
Damn her observing nature. “You need to rest,” he muttered and pulled the covers up tighter around their bodies. She watched him a moment longer before she turned back to the window. He shifted closer so he cocooned her from behind. Their bodies fit perfectly together and within a few minutes, every bit of tension in him seeped out and he settled into sleep. But the dreams that came were full of endless meadows, and Callie riding away, far out of his reach.
* * *
Callie woke to Paris birdsong. The happy chatter outside the windows was an endless delight and a comfort that reminded her of home, although the birds sounded different. Plump songbirds perched on the edge of the balcony railing, dancing on their tiny feet and fluttering their wings. Callie watched the little creatures flitter about for a few minutes. Behind her, Wes slept deeply, his breathing slow and even. The world seemed to slow to a stop, frozen like a golden ray of sunshine trapped in a jar, a memory preserved forever, just as perfect as anything could be. She was warm and safe, with a beautiful man in bed beside her.
She rolled over to face him. The hard lines around his eyes and mouth softened as he slept and she wondered what a man like him dreamed about. He had the world at his fingertips; anything he could ever want was within his reach. So what did a man who had everything dream about?
Well, not everything. He hadn’t fallen in love. For some reason, he had kept his distance emotionally all these years from women. Why? A man like him had a distinct purpose for everything. Did love not fit into that equation?
The weight of his arm around her waist felt nice, more than nice. Their heads shared a large pillow and their noses were almost touching. She had never slept with a man before, but the last night she had been in bed with Wes. An intimacy was growing between them, which could only come from sharing a bed together through the night. Like invisible strands of a delicate tapestry weaving them together, tying them to one another.
Sleeping with someone was a gift of trust that lovers shared beyond their bodies. But she and Wes weren’t lovers. Yet. A little smile curved her lips. Soon though. She wanted more, more of what he had promised in his kisses and his touches. There was an entire world out there that she wanted to know and experience. And if she had to let him win the bet, maybe it was worth it. She just had to keep her heart guarded and enjoy what passed between them purely on a physical level. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d made a promise to herself about never letting a man hurt her heart again and she wouldn’t let anyone do that to her, not even Wes.
She had dreamed that Fenn would be the man to teach her the ways of passion, but that dream was shattered. In its place Wes had emerged. A dark knight who promised things she’d been afraid to wish for. She was no longer a young girl and there was a part of her, a deep secret part, that longed to explore these new sides of herself. Wes would help her with that. The question was, could she help him in return? A life without love was no life at all.
Maybe she could start small. Do little things. Yes. That could work.
Sliding out of bed, she tiptoed downstairs and went into the kitchen. Surely she could make some breakfast for him. He’d gotten them food yesterday, and now it was her turn. She studied the stove and was relieved to see she could decipher the heat levels without needing to know a lot of French.
The fridge had a dozen eggs and all of the ingredients she could want to make two omelets. The cupboards had flour and other items required for homemade biscuits. She was by no means a master chef, but some of the basics, like biscuits and omelets, were doable. After a few minutes of searching high and low in the drawers and cabinets, she found a few pans and a cookie sheet.
The next half hour passed in a whirlwind as she whipped up the biscuits. At one point she dropped the bag of flour. The second it hit the kitchen floor it exploded in a small white atomic cloud, coating her and most of the nearby flat surfaces.
“Shit,” she cursed and picked up the flour bag, which was now considerably lighter. Maybe Wes wouldn’t notice most of the contents were missing. She sneezed and a cloud of new flour whooshed into the air. With a little growl of frustration, she fetched some dishcloths and tried to wipe up most of the flour that dusted the counters like a light snowfall.
Having little luck with the mess, she decided that she’d clean up later and she focused on cutting biscuits out onto the cookie sheet. As she cooked she hummed a soft little song. There was nothing so delightful in life as losing herself to a task like cooking or cleaning. Whether she was painting or doing work on the ranch, she never liked her hands to be idle. The activity let all of her worries and anxieties temporarily go as she created the meal. It wasn’t fancy, but it tasted damn good. Anything you worked hard on seemed better because you worked for it.
The timer beeped and she searched the drawers for a mitt. She bent over the open oven door and inspected the biscuits. They were a warm golden brown. Perfect. Humming again, she pulled them out of the oven and turned it off. When she turned around to set them on the hot plates she’d put on the granite island earlier, she froze.
Wes stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. There was something undeniably sexy about him in suits, but in jeans…her body exploded with heat and desire. His bare chest displayed those perfect pectoral muscles and washboard abs. Callie blinked, trying to focus, but in a haze she realized she couldn’t remember what she’d been trying to focus on.