Page 53 of Wren's Winter

Eyes drifting shut, I knew tomorrow would change what we had from a fling to something else.

Wren

The night was perfect. The sleep was perfect, and the waking beside Adrian was more than perfect. I watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. The thin dusting of golden-brown hair on his pecs, the small birthmark under his jawline, the perfect size for kissing. Maizie joined us, once again, snuggling between our legs and snoring softly as if this were the most natural place in the world.

And it was. For years, I would wake before Buck and fix my hair, brush my teeth, wipe off the smudges of mascara beneath my eyes. All so he wouldn’t see that side of me. Sleeping beside Adrian, my hair in its bonnet, no makeup on, my mouth stale, I felt safe. Across Adrian’s cheek was a pillow crease, going from his ear to the corner of his mouth. Softly, I ran a finger down it, soothing the spot. The bristle of his unshaven cheek was rough against my finger, and I reveled in the soft glow of the white morning light across our naked bodies.

We’re like a picture. Lovers embraced.

Two lovers entwined. The lazy way his arm was over my waist, the dog curled up alongside us, the tangle of limbs. I felt like art. What was growing between us, how I was feeling, was a beautiful ache.

I wanted him. I wanted this. The logistics of how we could work were nagging in the back of my mind. Where would I stay? I couldn’t just move here after a long weekend together, could I? As lovely as the words Adrian said to me, there was no promise in them. He didn’t ask me to stay. If there was one thing I learned from my fiasco of a relationship with Buck, it was that I would never expect more than I was being offered.

I wasn’t going to ask Adrian. This was his world, his town. I was a visitor to it. Only he could decide if he wanted me to stay.

Beside me, Adrian stirred, his large hand flexing on my hip, then moving down to grasp my ass. He mumbled contentedly, pulling me closer.

“My kind of wake-up,” he said, his voice still sleep-tinged. Ordinarily, I’d be concerned about morning breath, but when he leaned over to kiss me, I relaxed in his embrace. Soon, the covers were pushed to the side, the condom was on, and he was inside me. Even sleepy, he was masterful, his touch sending sparks of awareness through me.

This is how it should be. This is how it could be.

We came together, him finding his release moments after me. When he collapsed on top of me, his head nestled between my neck and my shoulder. “I take it back. That is my kind of wake-up.”

His smile is so bright, so earnest. It felt like a balloon was inside my chest, about to pop. My breath shaky, I took his mouth, kissing him again. He rolled off me, pulling me to lie beside him. My head on his chest, his hand in my hair, gently combing.

“After my mother’s comment about your name, I looked it up. I’ve never been an animal guy, so I wasn’t even sure I knew what a wren was.”

“It’s a small brown bird. Known to be loud and bold.”

“The small part is right, but I don’t think you’re very loud or bold.”

I have him a wicked grin. “Not loud, huh?”

“Maybe a little loud during certain activities.” He smiled down at me. “Stop distracting me with your sexy talk. I’m trying to be suave.”

“Suave away.”

“My point is, I looked up wrens, and I found some lore on them. You know, in some cultures, the killing of a wren is bad luck.” He said, smoothing a strand of hair off my forehead. “Loss of cattle, broken bones, lightning strikes.”

“That’s some serious power a small bird can wield,” I said.

“No more than they deserved.” Cupping my cheek, he ran his thumb over my lower lip. “You have that power over me, you know.”

The moment became too tense; we were barreling onto an unknown road, and I never made the right turn. Ducking my head down, my words were directed at his chest. “You can’t say those sweet words to me if you don’t mean them. I just got over someone, and I don’t have the capacity for another heartbreak.”

“I would never do anything that would hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice chipped away at a little piece inside me. He had a great voice for empathy, tenderness, and full of understanding. I wished it could envelop me and stay with me forever.

My words were fragile as they came out, my gaze far away as if summoning the courage to say them. “You would never try. It doesn’t mean this won’t end painfully.”

“I mean every word. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. Who I was before, who you were with. It has no place between us. This is about me and you. There is no before, only now.”

I sucked in a breath, the words falling away. He saw me. No one else saw it. For years, I told myself that the life I built was enough. That having someone was enough. But to feel this, to know how close I was to losing myself...

The killing of a wren is bad luck.

Moving my head from where it was on his chest, I gazed up at him. A deep crevice opened inside me, and I wanted to believe in his words.

If I let him, this man could shatter me into pieces. He made me want things that I never allowed myself to dream of. It was a dangerous sensation, to stare into his honest blue-green eyes and know I was falling hard into the unknown.

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