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Callum
I’d been awake for a while,watching my sweet little bird sleeping in my bed. Wren clutched the sheets under her chin, her pale brows furrowed. Even in her sleep, she had a lot going on in her mind.
She was a beautiful sight to wake up to. This way, I could take my time perusing her. First, I studied the copper hair spread on her pillow. The silky strands of gold, red, and orange swirling together to make the prettiest color I’d ever seen. Her lashes were long and blonde, fanning out on her cheeks, which were dotted with light copper freckles. Her brows were the same color as her lashes. But it was a secret only I knew, because during the day, she wore makeup to darken them both. I liked knowing I was one of the few who’d seen her this way.
Fuck knew she was the only one who’d seen most sides of me. Wren was inside me, had been for a long, long time.
My years of watching her from a distance had never prepared me for what it was to know Wren up close. Weekly reports on her activities didn’t tell me what her skin would feel like under mine. That she smiled in the last moments before she fell asleep. That she murmured in her sleep but never moved from the position she started in. Those reports I received were the surface of her, they were not who Wren was.
This girl in my bed was the real. She was the Wren from her letters times a thousand. If I’d given us a chance, I would have fallen for her without our history.
The fact was, I never would have given her a chance. We wouldn’t be here if not for our letters. We’d still be history if I hadn’t started watching her. If I hadn’t interfered in her life from afar, all that we were building wouldn’t exist.
If I was asked whether I felt guilty for not cluing Wren in on all I’d done for her and the time I’d spent watching her, I’d answer no. Without qualms or hesitation. Wren was mine, and I was hers. How we got here didn’t matter. What mattered was I’d rip apart the very fabric of the universe with my bare hands and reshape it if I had to in order to keep her.
Amber eyes fluttered open, and when they focused on me, her small, pink lips tipped into a grin. “Stalker.”
I combed the hair from her sleepy face. “You like it.”
She let go of the sheet and scooted into my arms. “Maybe I do.”
“I like wakin’ up to you, Wren.”
She tucked her face in my throat, but I felt her smile. “I like it too, Callum. Everything about it except knowing it has to end.”
My hands roamed her warm little body, naked under the sheet. I couldn’t get enough of the soft slope of her belly or the dramatic curve of her hip. I liked to trace those rounded lines over and over, sometimes with my fingers, others with my tongue. Wren protested once when I touched her stomach, but only once. I made her understand there wasnothingabout her I didn’t find sexy. Fuck, I spent my days apart from her half hard picturing what she looked like when she rode me or how her ass moved when I took her from behind. There was no hiding that body from me. It was scored into my memory for all time.
“You need to hurry home, or can I keep you here a little while longer?” I slid my fingers along her slit, her legs opening to give me access.
“Seeing as it’s the ass crack of dawn, I think we have time.” She nipped at my neck. “I’m a little sore, though, baby.”
I rolled her onto her back and slid my nose along hers. Her cheeks were flushed already, just from the idea of me inside her.
“I can go slow.” I pecked her nose. “I’ll be gentle and take care of you.”
Her breath came out in a gasp. That was it. The promise of taking care of her was all it took to turn my little bird on and get her ready for me.
I took my time with her, my sleepy girl. Her skin was so warm and soft in the morning, I couldn’t keep my mouth off it. By the time I slid inside her, she was pliant and soaked. Her arms wrapped around me as best they could from beneath me. I cradled her head to my chest and went slower than I ever had with her.
And I thought, this was what I wanted my mornings to be like. All my mornings. Watching my beautiful girl, then having her. Making slow, lazy love until we were smiling and happy and filled up to face whatever the rest of the day had in store. Even if it was media bullshit, work hassles, a grumpy kid, any of it. This would fortify us.
I needed this.
“Callum,” she whispered. “You feel so good.”
I kissed her forehead and cheek, held her close, slid in and out with gentle ease. Her plush thighs anchored my hips to her, and the rest of her body arched into mine.
“Need you, Little Bird. All the time.”
“I need you too,” she answered.
We went on like that, fucking slow, whispering, holding one another, until it became too much. Too good. I rocked into her harder, and she took it, raising her hips. I never stopped holding her, even as I drove into her with force. She was wrapped around me, kissing the skin she could reach, sighing and moaning my name.
When I came, she did too, and it was something else entirely. We got lost together, writhing like one body, clutching onto each other as we flew high. God, she was beautiful when she came. Nothing better than Wren letting herself go and having not one care in the world.
After, we showered and got dressed. She frowned at me when all I wore was a pair of sweats, telling me I’d catch my death from the cold. My little bird wore a sweater that was so long, it almost reached her knees, fleece leggings, and thick, fuzzy socks. I liked it because she looked sweet, but also because her sweater kept slipping off her shoulder and I got to kiss that bare skin when it did.
I made bacon and toast for breakfast. Wren chopped up strawberries and bananas. She couldn’t sit still and let me serve her. I got it, her instinctive need to take care, so I didn’t complain even though I wanted to give her the morning off.
