Page 61 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

My fingers stopped, and Ireland whimpered. That softened the sudden uncertainty, so I picked it back up, working the shampoo into her hair and scalp.

“Ireland,” I said softly, and she turned toward me, hair full of suds, frowning when she saw my expression.

“What is it?”

I raked my fingers through her hair, buying myself time. Was I overthinking this?

Probably. But communication was king .

“Did you hope this would’ve been more… romantic?

I pictured this with you so many times, but I’m worried now that I kinda lost myself there and didn’t take my time like I should have.

Or didn’t make it special.” Her frown deepened, but my rambling continued.

“I saw you with those sunflowers the other day, you know, and just… I mean, damnit , you deserve flowers. And I gave you this instead.”

She pressed her lips together hard, and I reached for my glasses on instinct, but for the second time this evening, she grabbed my wrist to stop me.

“Wash out my shampoo, Adair,” she said, voice strong and sure. “I can’t tell you how perfect this was, or how I wouldn’t change a single thing about what just happened while I have bubbles in my hair.”

I glanced down at my lap, then remembered I was naked and jerked my head back up.

“Oh,” I started, smiling tentatively. “Well, tip your head back then. Please.”

Ireland’s cheeks flexed in a restrained smile before doing as I asked and letting me rinse her hair.

For the next several minutes, she walked me through her shower routine, showing me her conditioner, exfoliating scrubs, and regular bodywash.

I’d seen her shower collection slowly grow over time, and it made me happy to see her getting these small pleasures for herself.

I committed it all to memory because if I could remember hundreds of different medicines and their potential interactions, I could remember my girlfriend’s self-care routines.

The word still had a wave of wonder crashing over me, and I smiled to myself as I washed the last suds from her body.

Ireland reached for my glasses, set them aside, and stood between my legs as she wet my hair .

“You have a tiny scar right here,” she said, tracing her finger over a spot near my temple. Her other hand massaged my scalp, and I got the shivers when her nails raked all the way down to my neck.

“From the fall,” I admitted quietly.

She stilled for a moment, then planted a small kiss on my temple. My eyes closed when her lips made contact and stayed that way as she went back to washing me.

That was that.

Once it was all done, we finally turned off the showerheads and stepped out together. I kept a firm grip on all the safety bars, not wanting this to end with disaster, and Ireland dried me thoroughly before letting me do the same to her.

The music was still going, but we could actually hear it now as we stood in front of the double vanity, wrapped in towels.

“What’s this song?” I asked, noticing her attention on my phone.

“‘Adieux’ by Ludovico Einaudi,” she said tiredly, the day catching up with her.

I gripped her hips and lifted her onto the vanity. Stroking her back with one hand, I plugged in her hair dryer with the other. I picked up her brush and combed through her wet strands, then got to work drying them, working the brush under small sections.

When I was done, she smiled softly at me and cocked her head as she reached for the dryer.

“Nah,” I said, handing her a towel instead. “Just give me a good rubbin’.”

She snorted, but after all we’d just done, I couldn’t even blush at my unfortunate word choice. It was just one in a long line of them at this point .

“Your place or mine?” I asked once we went through the rest of our routines and had no more reasons to linger.

She glanced between our doors, a little energy coming back into her posture. “Less chance of an unwelcomed visitor at mine.”

I huffed a laugh. “True. Meet you there?”

She nodded, and with one last lingering look, she disappeared from view. I scooped up my sleeve and boot, thanking the heavens I didn’t need to sleep in it. My ankle was healing well—ahead of schedule according to the doctor.

I slipped on some boxers and applied the lip balm Ireland got me before grabbing my pillow, phone, and charger. Figuring I’d given her enough time, I walked through the bathroom to Ireland’s door.

I paused at the threshold, realizing I’d never actually been inside her room.

Huh.

Didn’t matter all that much now, since I could barely see anything in the darkness.

“Ireland?” I called quietly, easing inside.

She was already under the covers, her back to me.

It felt wrong.

Shutting the door quietly behind me, I rounded the bed and set my things on the empty nightstand.

“Is here good?” I whispered, gesturing to the spot beside her.

She nodded, her eyes only just visible in the dark room.

I put my glasses on the stand next, then set my pillow down like a claim and peeled back the covers before sliding into bed with her.

Then I just lay there, facing her. It was the mirror image of what we’d done for so many nights now that I’d almost lost count .

“Hi,” she whispered.

I pushed my hair off my face, then rested my cheek on my palm. “Hi. So, this is him, huh?”

“Him?”

I smoothed my hand across the bed, under the covers, seeking her warmth. “The guy you keep running off to see. The one you were desperate for.”

She laughed, and I smiled to myself when I found her bent knees and smoothed a finger over her kneecap. “What’s up, Indigo Girl?”

“Thinking,” she said as I wedged my hand between her legs, sighing as the smooth skin of her thighs sandwiched me, soft and warm. “But badly. My brain’s a mess, so I need to just stop.”

“Intrusive thoughts or something we can talk through?”

She hummed. “Time will tell.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, but then she scooted closer to me, pushing my hand right into another warm part of her body.

My hand cupped her automatically, probing for what I couldn’t see. She was definitely wearing panties, but I couldn’t tell much else.

“You feel okay?” I asked, rubbing her softly.

“Yeah,” she breathed back. “How about you?”

“Better than I could ever put into words.”

I couldn’t see it, but I felt her smile wash over me. I knew the power of it, the exact thing it did to me, lighting me from inside.

I could probably feel her smile in a crowd of thousands.

There was some rustling as she twisted, and I laughed in delighted agony when she slotted herself against me in the little spoon position .

Her bare back to my front, skin to skin.

I inhaled deeply, breathing in the moment, as content as I’d ever been. Then I snaked my arm under her neck and smoothed the opposite hand down her leg, stroking and lightly scratching all the skin I could find.

She sighed happily after a couple of minutes and finally let her muscles melt into mine. I hadn’t even realized the difference until I felt it. Smiling, I kissed the top of her head and kept stroking, soothing her into sleep.

Or trying to, since she softly jerked herself to wakefulness every few minutes, like she wouldn’t allow herself to sleep.

I was about to ask her about it, but then soft music started playing from her phone, and I sat up a little, glancing toward it.

It wasn’t the chimes of her usual alarm.

It was a single line of piano, playing a familiar melody.

Ireland turned onto her back, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose as the song continued.

“Happy Birthday, Adair.”

My pulse beat wildly as I caged her in with my arms and hovered over her silhouette. I lowered the desperate organ that beat only for her so it rested on her body exactly where it wanted to be, and I found her lips, kissing her softly.

“Best one I’ve ever had, Ireland.”