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“Odd question to ask so early in the morning,” she quips, letting her fingers brush lightly over my hard length.
My muscles tighten. As much as I’d like to screw her brains out again, I’m trying to behave myself. Birdie makes it hard—in more ways than one.
I unleash one of my charming grins. “It’s an honest question—and I remember you saying you felt like your hair was meant to be dark when we were kids. I want to know what made you go back to your natural color.”
“Why Mr. Miller, I didn’t realize you paid so much attention to my hair,” she teases.
I tug on said hair lightly, pulling her close to my lips. “I pay attention to everything about you, Ms. Wilder. Now answer the question.”
Her fingers play with a few of my chest hairs. “Women are constantly being told what to do. Especially in this industry. Some people even have contracts that say they can’t modify their hair in any way without consulting their labels or studios first. I guess you could call it an act of defiance,” she shrugs. “And I don’t know, I wanted a change. Felt right to go back to my roots for once.”
“Was your label angry?”
“Hell yeah they were. Said I’d lose fans and everything. That I no longer looked like the rocker they signed. That I looked like a chubby Barbie.”
Even though Birdie doesn’t seem bothered by it, my blood boils for her. What a bunch of assholes. She must see my anger because she presses her thumb against my furrowed brow.
“It’s fine. I’m over it now. I went on to win two Grammys and a VMA. And guess what picture of me is on that Album cover?”
I smirk. “Blonde haired Birdie?”
“Oh yeah. I even wore bubblegum pink.”
I laugh. “That’s my girl.” When the words are out of my mouth, I wait for Birdie to pull back, but instead she just looks a little surprised.
Her response comes out soft. “Do you mean that?”
I grab her chin so that her eyes meet mine. I want her to see that I’m sincere. “I do. I know what I said in the car last night, and if it’s too soon to call you that, then I completely respect your choice. But after last night, and this morning,” I half-smile, “It just feels right.”
The corners of my mouth turn up and her cheeks pink. The events of last night and this morning have brought clarity to our situation, and I know what I want now. Her. I don’t need to spend months thinking about it or trying to convince myself this isn’t me. I may have a lot of fucking baggage but being with her is like breathing. I don’t want to lose her again.
She brushes her plum nails over my stubble. “I know it sounds crazy…” she takes my hand and places it on her heart. I feel it thump wildly in her chest. “My heart does this whenever you’re around. And after what we’ve shared, I don’t think I can share you with anyone else.”
My grin widens so she can see my teeth. “That’s good to hear.”
“I’m not usually the relationship type—”
I cut her off. “I understand, Birdie. Trust me, I do.”
Still smiling, she presses her thumb into the small dip on my chin. “Does that mean you like me?”
I sit up and pull Birdie with me. In seconds I have her face in my hands, cradling her with as much care as I can. I press our foreheads together so our noses touch. “I can’t take back what I said all those years ago. But I’m going to spend the rest of time telling you that I like you, Birdie. I really fucking like you.”
She closes her eyes and takes a shallow breath. When she opens them, they’re slightly glassy. I can’t help the tension I feel in my chest. I kiss her eyelids, then her lips. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, I was an idiot—”
Birdie stops me with a kiss. When she pulls back, she’s smiling. “Liam, I understand. You don’t have to say anything else. I like you a lot, too.”
“Well good, because I sure as hell have a lot of plans for you,” I let my eyes wander to her naked breasts. “And those too.”
Birdie smacks me playfully. “I’m sure you do.”
I take Birdie’s hand in mine then press it against my chest. My heart is pumping hard too, and I want her to know what she does to not only my little brain, but my whole body.
Her mouth opens slightly as she looks from my eyes to my lips. A devilish grin appears right before her free hand begins to wander down my chest then over the V near my hips. Goosebumps breakout over my skin and I grip the back of her head. “Are you sore?” I ask her.
“It’s kind of you to ask, but even if I was, I’d still say yes.”
I chuckle. “You're insatiable.”
