Page 86 of I Saw Her First

“I…” My breath trickles out. I can feel Daisy’s eyes on the side of my face as I try to find the words to explain why I hid everything that reminded me of Lydia. “I did, for a while, but it was too hard, seeing her face all the time, seeing her stuff everywhere. I guess it was an act of self-preservation.” I chuff a grim laugh. “Maybe not the best approach, but it made it easier.”

“I get that,” Daisy murmurs, circling her hands through the water. “What about now?”

I lower my gaze to meet hers. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been three years. I’m not saying it would be easy to be reminded of her more, but maybe it wouldn’t be quite so hard now.”

I nod. She’s probably right. I’ll always miss Lydia, but the feeling doesn’t crush me like it used to.

“You should put some pictures up.” Daisy gives me a tentative, encouraging smile. “You should see her and remember her every day.”

My brows tug together curiously. Though I don’t disagree with her, it seems odd that my new girlfriend would want me to cling to memories of my late wife.

“Would you be comfortable with that?” I ask.

Daisy gives me a strange look. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I haven’t thought about it all that much, but… I guess I figured you’d want me to focus on you. That you wouldn’t want pictures of another woman in my house.”

“Another woman?” Daisy twists in the water to face me, her expression incredulous. “She’s not some other woman, Weston. She’s Jesse’s mom. You were a family.” Her voice thickens, eyes shining with emotion in the moonlight. “I know she’ll always hold a special place in your heart. You should acknowledge that.Weshould acknowledge that. Don’t hide her away because of me. It’s not right.”

I stare at Daisy in disbelief, my heart a hot ember in my chest.

Holy shit, I am so in love with her. How could I not be? She can’t stand the thought of me not honoring Lydia’s memory. She’s actuallyupsetat the notion of me not keeping Lydia in my home, in my heart. I never dreamed I could meet someone who would understand the fine line I have to walk between lovingmy late wife while also moving on with someone new. But that’s Daisy; mature and thoughtful and so fucking selfless it hurts.

I reach for her hand, the feeling of love mingling with grief in my ribcage. I’d never considered how much the two emotions fit together, but they do. They have to. There’s love in grief—love that has nowhere to go when you lose someone—but there’s grief in love, too, knowing that one day you could lose the person you love. That youwilllose them, eventually, because nothing in this world is permanent.

And if losing Lydia taught me anything, it’s not to hold back a second of love.

“Come here,” I say, my voice raw as I tug Daisy roughly into my arms. She gasps in surprise, then settles against me with a little sigh. Her legs wind around my waist, arms around my neck, and I capture her mouth with mine. I only mean to kiss her, to hold her close, but she’s warm and slippery against my chest, and I can feel the heat of her center against my thickening cock through her thin bathing suit. Before I can stop myself, I tug at the ties on her bikini top, just like I imagined doing the last time I saw her in this, at Sullivan’s Cove. It slips from her chest and floats away, her perky breasts floating on the silvery surface of the water.

I dip my head to take one in my mouth, and Daisy moans into the night air. Her hands go to my trunks, and I help, kicking them off under the water. When her warm fingertips wrap around my length, stroking eagerly, I let out a low growl. I spin us so her back is against the tiled wall of the pool, sliding a knee between her parted legs. My mouth devours hers as she tugs on my cock, the heat of her core on my thigh. I lift my leg, loving the way she grinds herself on me, thinking about what she told me the last time we were together, that she fucked a pillow on her bed and imagined it was me. I’ve jerked off more than once since that night, picturing her in her room, horny and desperate asshe rubbed herself on her pillow. Now she’s rubbing against my thigh, whimpering as I lift it to meet her rocking hips, the water lapping at her tits as she moves. There’s nothing sexier than this woman owning her sexuality, giving in to the things that make her feel good.

But I need to be inside her. It’s been too fucking long.

I untie the strings of her bikini bottom, wrenching it from her body. Then I wrap her legs around my waist, taking her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as I push into the heat of her. Her breath comes out on a long, tortured moan, fingernails digging into my shoulders as I pin her to the wall of the pool, burying myself inside her.

“Fuck, Weston.” Her voice is a throaty whisper. “You’re so deep.”

“You like it deep, baby?”

She nods, wide-eyed as I withdraw and slam back into her, pool water sloshing out onto the tiles. I’m desperate to tell her I love her, that she’s turned my entire world upside down and I can’t imagine my life without her, but after our conversation about Jess, after everything with Rex tonight, I’m not sure if it’s the right time.

And if I’m being really honest, I’m fucking terrified. I know she cares a great deal for me, that much is clear, butlove? She’s only twenty-five. I’m the first guy she’s ever been intimate with, and our situation is beyond complicated. I don’t want to rush her into something she’s not ready for, pressure her to say something she’s not sure about. And once I say it, I can’t take it back.

So, no, I won’t tell her I love her. Not tonight.

But I can fuck her like there’s no tomorrow.

“Yes,” she breathes as I thrust deep inside her again. “Harder.”

“Fuck yes, babygirl.” My voice is a savage rasp as I press her into the tiles. “You want my cock?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I want your cock. I need it.” Her mouth finds my neck and sucks. “More, Wes. Please.”

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