“No, but it seems like a good skill to have.”

My eyes practically bulge out of my head. Skill? Her having great blowie skills is not the reputation I want her to have. “No. No. Absolutely not. You don’t need that skill.”

“What about you?”

What the fuck? “I don’t need that skill either.”

She bursts out laughing again. “I meant me using that skill on you.”

“Oh right. It’s late, and I’m—oh fuck.” I lay my head back on the pillow as her tongue travels over my erection. Reaching under the covers, I rub the top of her head, the only part of her I can reach.

For someone who’s never done this before, she’s doing a fucking fantastic job of it. Taking me into her mouth, she sucks, causing the inside of her cheeks to hollow around my dick, and I’m about done here. A few more rounds of her mouth and my release hits fast, and I come hard.

Her hair tangles between my fingers as I give in to every sensation.

When I finally catch my breath, I find her kissing my chest and moving higher up my body. When she reaches my mouth, she kisses me, and then says, “How’d I do?”

“Yeah, you don’t need any guidance from me.”

“If that didn’t feel so fucking amazing, I might be embarrassed that I didn’t last longer.” I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Guess it just comes naturally.” She laughs, kissing me again, and then slides off to snuggle against me.

This woman, what am I going to do with her?

Rubbing her back, I hear the sound of her sighing in satisfaction, which relaxes me in a way I haven’t felt in quite some time. Every bone feels pliable to the bed as I

hold her close. I ease into sleep so quickly, but before I do, I kiss the top of her head, and say, “I’m glad I stayed.”

Her smile growing is felt on the side of my chest. Her arm tightens over me, and she whispers, “Me too. Good night, babe.”

“Babe?”

“All’s fair in love.”

“And war.” I’ve never bothered with terms of endearment before, never feeling that invested. But with Lark, I’m all in. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

She squirms under my arm and looks up at me. “Baby?” she asks through a smile.

“It feels right.”

She feels right.

14

Lark

Jell-O.

My body feels loose, limber, and pliable on the mattress and more at peace than I’ve ever been.

The clouds of my mind have cleared, though there’s a slight thunder in the temple of my brain, but then I remember him calling me baby last night. Me, Lark Summerlin from small-town Beacon is Harbor Westcott’s baby, and all is wonderful in the world. I giggle in delight but am quick to silence myself so I don’t wake the sleeping giant.

I roll over ready to kiss him awake, but I roll right onto my face instead of finding Harbor. I open my eyes, hoping I’m wrong, but also to verify the bed is empty beside me. My heart starts racing as a wave of emotions overwhelm my head. My stomach turns from the sight of the spot where he lay when we fell asleep last night. Wrapping my arm around it, I realize I need to cover more than my stomach.