He shifted so he could lie back, only he brought her down with him, then slowly rolled over, so he was exactly where she’d dreamed of having him, only the reality was so very, very much better. She wrapped her legs around his hips and they found their rhythm easily, keeping them both close to the edge, so close, as they kissed and nuzzled, but in no hurry to get there.
She wanted this reality to go on as long as possible, staving off the one that would come far too soon afterward.
Perhaps this had been a monumental mistake on her part after all. She couldn’t have known how truly all-encompassing their lovemaking would be.
She knew now.
And she had no idea how she’d move on from this. Even as her body started that sweet climb to salvation once more, some part of her mind was already spinning off on a swirl of wild plans and possibilities about what she could do, how she could rearrange her entire life to go be with him. But then she felt him, saw him, heard him reaching his peak, too, and let herself be swept along with him. Mindfully and mindlessly, she let it all go, and simply let him and everything she was feeling fill her.
They didn’t say anything afterward. Words seemed inadequate at that moment. Wyatt cleaned up; then they climbed under the covers, pulling up all the thick, weighty layers she kept on the bed year-round. Only this was so much more delicious, with his warm body and bare skin next to hers. He rolled to his back and gathered her to him. She tucked her knee between his legs and let her head rest on his chest, one arm around his waist. She felt his arms settle around her, strong, and heavy and perfect, and her eyes drifted closed. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she smiled as sleep claimed her. Tomorrow would be soon enough for the consequences of their actions to come crashing in. For now, she wanted all the bliss she could get.
* * *
She woke up alone. There wasn’t even a muddled moment of thinking that was normal. She knew instantly what she was missing. Whom she was missing. Her heart clutched so hard at the thought that he was gone, she pressed her hand over it as she sat up and pushed her hair from her face. His shirt was on the floor, and his watch was on her nightstand. The relief was so immediate and profound, she slumped back against the pillows.
He wouldn’t have done that, wouldn’t have slipped away without a good-bye. Intellectually she knew that, but the moment of instinctive panic she’d felt did not bode well for when that inevitable good-bye came.
She’d slept soundly, the night through. No dreams, and better, no nightmares. They came very infrequently now, dreams of her brother on the last day of his life. But they did come. And just knowing that it was possible made dropping off to sleep a bit of a process for her. She’d long since mastered the mental list of things she went through, the deliberate thoughts she had, and didn’t have, all as a means of prepping her subconscious for a dreamless night. It wasn’t even something she did deliberately now; it was simply habit.
She’d done none of those things last night. It had been a very long time since she’d slept beside someone, and never in her own bed. The few times over the years when she’d been with someone long enough for sex to become part of the equation, sleeping together was rarely part of it. She preferred sleeping in her own bed. Alone. The possibility of the nightmares was part of it, but they were also a handy excuse. She always kept part of herself separate, disengaged, observing rather than fully participating. Sleeping alone was part of that. She didn’t give away all of herself easily. Or ever.
Until now.
Ignoring that hard truth while she still could, she realized the gray skies outside had likely made it seem much earlier than it was. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand to see how badly she’d overslept. Her four-legged charges were not going to be happy with her. She was surprised she couldn’t hear Foster kicking at his stable door.
The first thing she saw was a text from Tory, letting her know that she’d taken care of the horses that morning, along with her own.
Seeing as your lazy posterior couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. Not that any red-blooded woman on Reed Planet or any other planet would blame you.
Chey smiled at that last part. Tory was getting what she wanted, so of course she didn’t mind a few extra chores. For once, Chey didn’t think she’d mind Tory being the smug Victor. That didn’t stop a bit of warmth from rising to Chey’s cheeks as she realized that everyone on the farm likely knew exactly how she and Wyatt had spent the night. Of course, they’d all but shoved them into bed together, so they’d be a little smug, too. And anyone with eyes could have looked across the property and noticed that there hadn’t been a single light turned on in her house from the time they’d left the main house until now. So telling her friends the two had sat up and talked all night probably wouldn’t fly. She grinned. That and the stupid grin she’d have plastered over her face all day. That might be a clue.
The scent of bacon and freshly brewed coffee wafted into the bedroom from the great room beyond the open door, which was living area, kitchen, and dining room, and she immediately shouted, “Marry me!”
Wyatt had his phone pinned between his ear and shoulder as he came walking in a moment later, carrying a tray with a steaming mug of coffee and something else she couldn’t make out. She was still sitting in bed, covers up to her hips, wearing nothing more than his rumpled shirt and quite probably an epic case of bedhead.
His hair wasn’t sexily tousled but instead stuck out every which way, too. Totally old Wyatt—thank God—because the rest of him was drop-dead gorgeous new Wyatt. His jeans rode low on his hips and his skin was indeed a golden brown. Everywhere. As she now knew. He hadn’t shaved, and the stubble shadowing his jaw added the perfect amount of sex appeal to the wire-rimmed glasses he was sporting. He looked like the hottest history professor on the planet. Reed Planet, indeed. She wanted to be a permanent resident.
He had been listening to whoever was on the other end of the call when he walked in and leaned down to place the tray on the bed, then casually shifted the phone away so he could pin her to the headboard with a hot, fast, and very deep soul kiss. He straightened, flashed her a grin and a wink as he started talking about file uploads and transportation budgets while walking back out to the great room. Leaving her to stare at his broad, muscled back and his very fine ass. She was dazed senseless by the combination of the scent of coffee and the taste of Wyatt Reed. And she was okay with that.
She slid the tray over and a soft sigh left her as she saw what else was on it. No bacon or eggs. She was apparently expected to haul herself out of bed for those. No, he’d brought her an oversized mug of jet black coffee, just the way she liked it, and next to it was a stalk of dried lavender, a tiny nest with a few downy feathers still clinging inside from its most recent inhabitants, and a small stone that she realized, upon picking it up, was an arrowhead. They’d uncovered a few of them during the renovations, and each one was a treasured gem.
There was a folded note underneath them. She picked it up as she took her first sip, then closed her eyes in abject pleasure. A deep, appreciative sigh later, she opened her eyes, glanced through the door to the main room, but could only hear his muted conversation and the sounds of breakfast being made in the kitchen.
She leaned back against the headboard and opened the note as she took a second sip.