Chapter 26 MAEVYN
This bed is amazing. I feel like I’m sleeping inside a toasted marshmallow. It’s warm, and soft, and—
“Morning.”
My body jerks awake in a panic, my hand clutched to my chest as I scramble out of bed.
“Whoa! Whoa! It’s just me.” I spin around, seeing a confused—and naked—Westley kneeling on the bed, hands held up in surrender.
“Fuck!” I gasp. A cool sweat washes over my body as I try to calm down.
Westley reaches out a hand. “You okay?”
“Sorry. I’m not used to having another person next to me in bed… behind me.”
His brows pinch. I can see a thousand questions written all over his face. “Did I make you uncomfortable sharing the bed last night?”
I take a deep breath, then come back to the bed, leaning against the headboard. I love that that’s something he’s worried about. He cares how the people around him feel. He’s the kind of person who would put himself out in favour of others.
“No.” I shake my head. “I liked falling asleep with you. I just forgot where I was for a second.”
Whilst I’ve been able to replace memories of my less-than-peaceful upbringing with better things over the years, that fear is never entirely forgotten.
Seedy guys my dad would call friends, looking at me like I was just another thing they could taint and ruin.
Teasing comments to test the waters on how far they could go before my parents would tell them to get lost. Not that it stopped them from inviting them over again and again.
It was all just words until I turned sixteen.
That was the first and last time one of them tried to take advantage.
Thankfully, I woke up before the guy’s hand got under my clothing, and he was too high to have any kind of strength to fight back.
I had started working nightfill at one of the local grocers a few months before, saving money so I could get out of my parents’ house. One of the managers also practised martial arts, and I asked him to teach me some self-defence moves. Three times a week, we’d use our meal breaks to spar.
When the time came for me to flee my old life, I made Royal promise he’d pass on a note, thanking the guy for taking that time with me, and hoping he knew how much of a difference it made.
A few years ago, Royal told me the guy started volunteering at local studios to offer free self-defence classes to women.
Westley reaches a tentative hand out, brushing his finger against mine.
“You’re sure?”
I plaster an easy smile on my face and nod.
“Okay.” He smiles back, then hooks his arm under my knees and pulls me down the mattress.
My head falls to the pillow, my side nestled against his front as he drapes my legs over his knees, feeling completely cocooned in his strong, safe presence.
I’m also desperately trying to ignore the naked cock pressing against my hip. Holy hell.
“Let’s try this again,” he says sweetly, cupping my face in his warm palm. “Good morning.”
My eyes skip over his face, taking in his steady green gaze, his mouth that seems to permanently have the left side hooked up just a hint, the dark hair covering his jaw. More recent memories flood my mind of the way that beard scratched at the skin between my thighs.
“Hi,” I manage to squeak out.
“Did you have a good sleep?” His thumb brushes my cheek so tenderly. Is it normal for a man to be so commanding at night and so sweet in the morning?
“I give you a nine out of ten on the snuggle buddy rating scale.”
He arches an eyebrow at me. “A nine out of ten?”
“Well, no one’s perfect.” Even though he might just be one of the few people I’ve met who could be.
He starts to respond, but he’s cut off by the loud rumble of my stomach. “Hungry?”
“I guess so.” I chuckle. “Actually, I’m surprised I’m not more hungover after all that gin.”
He drops a kiss on my forehead and hops off the bed. “Must have been the orgasms.”
I pull the blanket over my head, hiding my blush while he just chuckles. I hear him rustling in his bag, then movement through the room, followed by the tap in the bathroom turning on.
I’ve never had a morning after with a guy.
I appreciate that Westley doesn’t make it feel awkward.
In fact, I’ve never felt awkward around him.
He somehow makes everything feel easy. Kinda like the relaxed feeling I have with Presley, how there’s no need to keep my guard up, act a certain way, not say a certain thing.
I wonder what it is about him that does that.
“You getting up, pretty girl?”
I peek over the blanket, watching where he stands in the bathroom in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.
“There’s coffee,” he coaxes, then turns back into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.
“Phil texted. He and Rachel are already at breakfast,” he says once he steps back into the bedroom, then picks up a pair of shorts off the bed.
“Rachel’s coherent after all that alcohol?” I ask as I watch him button up. The deep teal cotton clings to his thick thighs, and the colour makes his skin look even more golden.
“She’s out of bed,” Westley says, pulling a grey T-shirt over his head. “Phil says she hasn’t actually spoken words yet, but at least she’s out of bed.”
He comes back to the bed, leaning down over me. “So, you have no excuse to not get this fine arse up and join me.”
“Okay,” I say, and I blame the willingness on the two orgasms in less than eight hours.
“Do you want me to wait for you to get ready or meet you there?”
I throw the blankets back and swing my legs over the bed. “I’ll meet you there. I want to check in with Aurora first.”
Westley nods, then leans down to kiss me quickly before heading out the door.
I don’t know how long I sit, staring at the space and trying to get my head around everything that’s happened.
My heart starts beating rapidly, and I lay a hand against my chest in hopes of calming it.
This man has me confused. Whatever this is, it’s something new.
It’s wild and thrilling. I can’t explain it, but it doesn’t feel bad.
I push off the bed and search through the clothes in my bag. It feels cool this morning, so I opt for a plain T-shirt and light blue denim jeans. They’re tight, but they make my arse look fantastic, if I do say so myself, and this morning, I’m feeling pretty damn good.
I check my phone as I wander into the bathroom.
PRESLEY:
Sooooo how was your night?
I catch the smile on my face in the mirror, along with the flush on my cheeks and the absolute bird’s nest that is my hair right now.
ME:
Interesting…
PRESLEY:
Details, please. And don’t fucking leave me hanging.
I chuckle as I bring up Aurora’s contact details and hit dial.
“Morning, Mama.”
“Hey, Superstar. How was your night?”
“It was good. Callie and I watched old musicals, and I tried teaching her how to crochet. We’re just about to leave, going for breakfast at Sweet Escape, and then to an arts and craft market.”
“That sounds like fun!” I say, as I moisturise my face, then apply some mascara.
“Yeah, Callie is really cool and funny.”
“Just doing my aunty duties.” I hear a voice call in the background, making Aurora laugh.
“Yeah, she says she’s my aunty now.”
“Why does she say that?” I ask, gathering my messy hair up in a bun, leaving a few wavy strands around my face. My daughter ignores my question completely, asking instead how my night was.
“It’s really pretty here. I’ll take some photos of the farm before we leave.”
“Westley sent us some from last night. I loved that one of you dancing.”
My eyebrows pinch as I finish applying some lip balm, then head back to the bedroom. “Of West and I dancing?”
“No, it was just one of you.”
I try to think back to last night, and when West might have taken a photo of me, but I can’t remember anything. “You’ll have to show me when I get home. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Okay. No rush. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up, sliding my feet into my shoes as I read a new message from Presley.
PRESLEY:
Was his dick so huge it scrambled your brains? Cos I’m quite sure you used to be able to read and I believe I said DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING.
I laugh and send her three eggplant emojis before heading out the door to find where breakfast is being served. I go back in the direction of where the reception was last night, following the cobblestone paths that lead to the big open garden.
The white linen tablecloths have been replaced with mason jars full of freshly picked wildflowers, and the pop-up bar is now a buffet line of breakfast food, with another station of chefs making food to order.
I spot Westley in line, holding a plate of food as he chats to Phil, so I walk straight over to him.
“Morning.” I smile at both the guys.
“Good morning. Sleep well?” Phil asks, and all I can do is nod. I wonder if West told him anything. The smile on his face looks like he may have a tiny inkling of just how well we slept.
“There’s a mocha on our table for you,” Westley says, as he brings a hand around my lower back, tipping his chin to a table where Rachel is sitting, wearing sunglasses and regret.
“You got me a mocha?”
He nods, and my heart starts flipping and jumping like a cheerleader.
I’m not used to being the one who’s looked after.
I lean into him, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek.
When he kisses the top of my head, I think this, right here, is the most danger I’ve been in.
If I ever have to leave his arms, there’ll be no coming back from it.
“I’m ordering eggs from the chef if you want some? They’re doing waffles too.”
“I won’t say no to waffles.”
Westley waves to one of the chefs to add a serving of waffles to his order.
He’s got another plate of food in his hand with hash browns, cooked tomatoes, a little yogurt tub, and some strawberries.
I pinch a strawberry off his plate, popping it into my mouth with a wink as his fingers tickle up and down my back.
I close my eyes for a moment, inhaling his cologne as if it’s air. When I open my eyes again, I see his ex watching us from the other side of the garden.
I’m not sure if West notices too, but the chef hands him and Phil their plates of hot food, and I tell him to get started without me. I fill a small bowl with an assortment of berries while I wait for my waffles, admiring the roses around the garden.
“He wasn’t like that with me.”
My hand comes to my bangles, flicking them around my wrist where they’re hidden by the bowl in my hands, before I turn to look at Phoebe.
“I hope you treat him better than I did,” she murmurs, a plea hidden within the words, before she looks over her shoulder. I follow her gaze and watch where Westley sits, laughing with Phil. Rachel’s sitting solemnly between them as she nurses a steaming mug. “He deserves that.”
I already know Westley deserves every good thing that comes his way. I know the point of having me here this weekend wasn’t to cause hurt to his ex, though. It was quite the opposite.
“I hope you find happiness, too,” I tell her.
Phoebe smiles and nods, squeezing my wrist before stepping away.
“Waffles?” I turn, answering the chef’s call, and accept my plate, ready to join West.
My chair is already pulled out when I get to the table. The second I sit down, West’s hand finds my thigh.
“How was Aurora?” Westley asks, putting his cutlery down in favour of coffee.
I pick up my mocha and take a sip, groaning as soon as the creamy chocolate flavour hits my tongue. “She had fun. She and Callie spent the night watching musicals. They were heading to Sweet Escape for breakfast when I called.”
“Callie said she had a great time.”
“Did you talk to your sister?” I ask.
“Yeah. I called her while I walked over here.”
“So why’d you ask how Aurora’s night was when you already knew?” I chuckle, putting down my mug and reaching for the syrup in the middle of the table.
“Because I want to know about your daughter through you,” he says casually between bites.
I don’t have anything to say. I’m still not used to being around people so comfortable with their thoughts, who don’t have some hidden agenda that only serves themselves.
Westley pauses with a fork halfway to his mouth as he registers my silence.
He twists his head, letting his eyes dart all over me.
I both love and hate the way he reads me so well.
I’m curious if it’s a skill Westley’s developed over time, being so attuned to people’s emotions, or if it’s some special perception reserved for me.
“Does that scare you?” he asks carefully, but something in the way he says it also feels like a challenge, an invitation for me to meet him in this new place we’ve found ourselves building in the last few weeks.
“Completely.”
His hand finds my thigh again, his thumb dipping into one of the holes in the denim and tracing my bare skin, back and forth.
“You don’t have to be scared with me.”
I smile as if I’m unaffected, all while my heart seizes in my chest. I lay a hand over his, fiddling with the ring on his pointer finger. He flips his palm and laces our fingers together.
“I don’t know about that.”
“How about this,” he says, turning in his chair to face me. “When you write your little pleasure pursuit list, you write another list, for yourself, of everything that scares you, and if you want to share it with me, I would love to help you with that one too.”
“Why would you go through all that trouble for me?”
He brings our clasped hands to his mouth and runs his lips along my knuckles. With a kiss to my fingers, he places my hand behind his neck, then runs his fingers over my wrist and up my arm until he reaches my neck and brings our heads closer together. “I don’t see you as trouble.”
“You know, we still have the rooms for another hour if the two of you need some privacy,” Phil says.
I laugh under my breath while Westley winks, then pulls back, returning to his breakfast.
“If you could be quieter than last night, though, that would be great,” Rachel mumbles.
Well… fuck.