Page 67 of I Saw Her First

Then there’s the bed itself, with a king-size mattress and a padded headboard in charcoal gray. I’ve never been in this bed with anyone besides Lydia. I remember the day we bought it. She picked out the white, waffle-textured comforter, and we argued over the velvet mustard-colored pillows. The same ones I’ve meticulously placed on the bed every morning just the way she liked, ever since she died. As if doing so would somehow bring her back.

I wait for the wave of grief to crash over me, to fill my lungs like it used to, but it doesn’t come. Only a faint swell of sadness that rises and falls, followed by the sense that this is okay. The knowing that it’s alright for me to be here with Daisy.

I might buy new pillows, though.

Daisy appears beside me with her bag on her shoulder. She glances from me to the bed, realization settling on her features, then lets her breath out slowly, as if bracing for the worst.

“If you’re not ready, Wes, I get it.” Her hand is gentle on my arm. “I know it’s only been three years, so if you need to wait…”

I take her hand, crossing the threshold into the room with her. It’s bittersweet, knowing I’m moving forward from Lydia, but hearing Daisy say it’s okay, that she understands, tells me all I need to know.

Daisy is absolutely the right person for me.

And she’s finally mine.

“Come here,” I murmur, reaching for Daisy. And as I pull her onto my bed and hold her close, I feel my heart finally begin stitching itself back together.

28

Daisy

Weston’s hands shake as they slide the straps of my dress down my shoulders. I reach behind my back to help him, unzipping the dress and wriggling out of it. When I turn back to remove his clothes too, he pauses, leaning back.

“I just want to look at you, Daisy.” He breathes out on a shaky exhale as his eyes roam over me. “You are so beautiful.”

Warmth spreads from my cheeks, down my neck and across my chest, and his gaze follows. It tints my skin the same color as my blush-pink bra and panties, and Weston hums his appreciation at the sight. It’s not the first time he’s called me beautiful, and while I’ve never considered myself to be pretty in the conventional sense, with him, I feel like a princess. Every word from him, every look he gives me, makes me feel more beautiful than all the guys I’ve dated in the past put together.

“I love your freckles,” he murmurs, leaning close to trail his mouth along my collarbone. The whiskers from his beard are coarse against the sensitive skin, and goosebumps rush across my bare skin. He notices, and glances up. “Are you cold?”

“No.” I smile. “It’s the way you touch me. My body goes crazy.”

He chuckles, bringing his lips back to my skin as he works his way down my chest, dipping into the valley between my breasts.

“I need to know you’re comfortable, okay?” He glances up again. “If you want to stop, or if I do something you don’t like, you need to tell me.”

I nod, my heart fluttering wildly behind my sternum. This is really happening. I’m going to have sex, and with Weston, of all people. As I watch him tenderly unhook and remove my bra, watch the reverent way he smooths his hands across my stomach and sighs, I can’t imagine anyone better to do this with. Anyone I trust more.

I try to tug his shirt off, but he maneuvers to the foot of the bed out of my reach, sliding my panties down my legs until I’m naked. I’m vaguely aware that he’s still fully clothed, but my thoughts evaporate the moment his tongue flicks my clit.

“Oh, shit,” I blurt, ever the lady. He gives a dark chuckle against my skin, tongue sweeping across me again.

“You’re already so wet, baby.” His voice is a gravelly rasp as he laps at my slick center, sending heat flooding through me. “I missed the taste of you.” His tongue dips inside me, lips closing around my clit to suck. He knows exactly how to make me feel good, and within minutes I’ve got my hands in his hair, moaning his name.

“Yes, Wes. Fuck, yes…”

Before I can reach my climax, he pulls away, rising to his feet and unbuttoning his shirt. As he tosses it aside, my gaze falls to the bulge threatening his zipper, and my heart jumps in anticipation. I watch as he slowly removes his pants and boxer briefs, freeing himself.

Fuck. I didn’t get a good look at his dick last night, because it was so firmly grasped in his hand, butholy shit, it is glorious.Not that I’ve seen all that many in my life. The majority of my experience is from the occasional porn video I’ve watched, but looking at Weston…

Wow.

People always talk about how ugly the penis is, but they’re wrong. There is nothing ugly about the way Weston’s massive erection juts from his pelvis and curves up his belly. Need shudders through me as I gaze at the red-purple head of it, the veins snaking up its sides. I’m overcome with a primal wave of lust, wet heat soaking my core. I want to crawl across the bed and take him into my mouth, but I’ve never done that before and don’t want anything to ruin the perfection of this moment between us.

Weston climbs onto the bed beside me, leaning in to take my mouth with his. My hand goes to his cheek, touching his beard, but I can’t help myself. My other hand strays between us, finding his hardness and circling it. He moans into my mouth as I stroke him, rubbing my thumb over his moist tip and using that to help me stroke. His hips thrust forward into my hand, his mouth devouring mine more greedily, until he pulls away.

“Oh God, Daisy, you have to stop.” His eyes are hooded, hazy, and dark. “It feels too good.”

I smile, dizzy at the thought thatI’mmaking him feel that way. ThatI’mthe one doing this to him.

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