Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
PRESTON
I wake up and realize I don’t want to change a single thing about the moment.
Not the God-awful hour of six-thirty. Not the sharp, golden Texas sunlight, slipping in through the gap in the curtains and pooling across her naked shoulder.
Not even the faint, embarrassing noise my stomach makes, which is quickly drowned out by the soft, even sound of Hazel’s breathing.
She’s sprawled diagonally across my bed, stealing ninety percent of the covers and two pillows, a feat that would annoy me if she weren’t so goddamn adorable.
Her hair is a halo of brown curls against my white sheets, wild and untamable, like she fought a small war in her sleep and came out victorious.
Her left arm dangles off the edge of the mattress, fingers twitching occasionally, as if she’s mid-dream and reaching for something just out of frame.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. She moved into my place a month ago, and things have only gotten better.
My old existence—late nights at the drafting table, early meetings with clients, endless loops of boredom and loneliness—feels like another lifetime. This? This is reality. Hazel Rose Winslet, all five-foot-nothing of her, in my home, hogging my bed and making me happier than I’ve ever been.
The urge to touch her is overwhelming, but I don’t want to wake her just yet. Instead, I slide a careful hand through her curls, marveling at how soft they are, how they catch and tangle around my fingers.
She shifts, nose scrunching, then rolls toward me with a sleepy mumble. Her eyes open a little bit, and she smiles, a lazy, lopsided smile that makes every cell in my body stand at attention.
“Hi,” she whispers, voice wrecked and beautiful.
“Hi, yourself,” I answer, and I’m surprised how rough my own voice sounds.
She shifts closer, her face tucked under my chin, one hand resting on my chest like she’s staking a claim.
“Did you watch me sleep?” she asks, eyes closed again.
“It’s my favorite part of the day.”
She groans, shoving her face into my neck. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“I know,” I say. “But I’m your weirdo now, so it’s allowed.”
She laughs and looks up, brown eyes still heavy with sleep but shining. “This is true.”
We lie there in the silence, her breath warm on my collarbone. I trace circles on her shoulder, enjoying the lazy early morning.
Eventually, Hazel stirs, stretching like a cat, then flopping bonelessly onto her back.
The sheet slips, exposing the full curve of one breast, and she doesn’t even notice.
I do. Jesus, do I. I shift closer, trailing my hand down her ribs, over the soft swell of her stomach, to the juncture of her hip.
Her skin is warm and smooth, and she shivers under my touch.
I lean over and kiss her, slow and deep, letting her taste exactly how much I want her.
Hazel yanks me down so I’m half on top of her, arms around my neck, legs tangling with mine.
My hands are greedy, mapping every inch of her like I’ve never touched her before.
She’s soft in all the right places, but there’s a hidden strength in the way she clings to me, pulls me closer, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
She kisses me back, wild and open-mouthed, nipping at my bottom lip until I gasp. She grins against my mouth, triumphant.
“I’m taking charge,” she insists, leaving no room for argument.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, hands cupping her ass as I roll her on top of me.
She straddles my hips, hair falling around her face in a wild tangle. For a second, she just sits there, staring down at me, then she grins, wicked and beautiful, and grinds down against me.
My cock is already hard, pressed between us, and she drags her pussy over it, slow and deliberate. There’s no rush. Not today. Not with the whole world narrowed down to this room, this bed, this perfect fucking woman.
She leans down, bites my jaw, then slides her hand between us, guiding me to her entrance. She’s wet, so wet I slide right in, and we both shudder at the first contact.
Hazel starts slow, rocking her hips, hands braced on my chest. I watch her, memorizing the way her mouth drops open, the way her eyes roll back when she sinks down and takes me to the hilt.
She rides me lazily, drawing it out, savoring every inch.
I let her set the pace, let her use me exactly how she wants.
After a while, I can’t stand it anymore. I grab her hips, driving up into her, and she gasps, fingers digging into my chest. I flip us, pinning her to the mattress, and she laughs, breathless.
“I thought I was in charge,” she teases.
“Next time,” I promise, and slam into her, over and over, until she’s writhing, legs locked around my waist, nails scoring red lines down my back.
She comes first, body arching off the bed, and I follow, coming so hard I see white.
We lie there, tangled and spent, my face buried in the curve of her neck. Her skin smells like sleep and lavender mixed with something sweet, and I never want to leave this bed again.
Eventually, reality intrudes. Hazel’s stomach grumbles loud enough to wake the dead, and she laughs, embarrassed.
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly.
I roll out of bed, pulling on boxers, and gesture for her to follow. “Come on. Let’s get you fed.”
She tugs on one of my shirts that swallows her whole, the hem reaching mid-thigh.
My body responds instantly to the sight of her swimming in my clothes.
She follows me down the hall, bare feet padding against the hardwood.
Morning light floods the kitchen through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting everything gold as the city stirs beyond the glass.
She slides onto a stool at the island, knees pulled up, while I set the coffee brewing and swing open the refrigerator door.
“You want eggs?” I ask, pulling out a carton and some cheese.
“Scrambled,” she says. “Heavy on the cheese.”
I whip up a breakfast that would make my mother proud, plating it with a flourish and sliding it across to her. She digs in, moaning with every bite, and I realize I’ll happily make her breakfast every day for the rest of my life.
We eat in companionable silence, trading bites and sips of coffee.
When the plates are clean, I lead her out onto the balcony overlooking Worthington Park.
The air is already warm, but there’s a breeze, and the view is perfect—green lawns, the running trail, the glassy blue curve of the river in the distance.
Hazel leans over the railing, mug in hand, eyes closed as she soaks in the sun.
“This is the best morning I’ve ever had,” she says quietly.
“Every morning with you is the best morning ever,” I tell her as I pull her back against my body.
We stand there for a while, listening to the birds, watching the city come alive. I want to freeze this moment, keep it forever, but I know the only way to do that is to make it official. To take the risk.
I reach into my pocket with my heart hammering against the inside of my chest wall.
“Hazel,” I say, and she turns, hair backlit by the sun, face open and unguarded.
I hold out a box. It isn’t fancy, just a simple blue velvet, the kind you’d get at the jeweler on Main Street, but the ring inside is perfect. It’s a platinum band with a large oval solitaire circled by tiny diamonds— elegant and understated, like her.
Her eyes go wide. “Preston,” she breathes, voice trembling.
I go down on one knee and hold it up to her. “I know it’s fast,” I say. “But I love you more than life itself. You’re my everything, Hazel. Will you marry me?”
She stares at me for a second, like her system just crashed and rebooted, and she hasn’t found the words yet. Shock, wonder, and happiness all battle it out on her face. And then her arms are suddenly wrapped around my neck, squeezing me so tight I can barely breathe.
“Yes,” she whispers, and it isn’t just once, it’s yes, yes, yes, like she’s trying to tattoo the word onto the moment.
My hands are shaking when I slide the ring onto her finger, and it fits like it was made for her. Which it was.
She kisses me so hard, the world blurs out, and for a second, there’s nothing in the universe but us.
When we break apart, Hazel grins, cheeks flushed, eyes wet.
“Guess we’re really doing this,” she says.
“Hell yes, we are,” I answer, and pull her in for another kiss.
The world kind of blinks out around us, and I realize I’m right where I want to be. I’m not sure life could get any better than this but we’re going to give it a try.