CHAPTER 4
Nitro looked around and set his bag on the floor next to the couch wondering how in God’s name she lived with all the fucking racket. Other than the birds swarming around your head, the place was very tidy. Still no signs of bird shit. Sparse furnishings. Minimal evidence of life, really. Odd for a girl. Woman, he corrected. A thousand percent.
He slept mostly at his hatch but last he checked, his three sisters kept their house a clutter of must-haves. He couldn’t judge, his shop was no better. But it served as his think tank, workshop, and bunker.
Where had she gone? He’d need to return to get what he actually needed to tide him over. He’d definitely need his laptop.
“I decided I don’t want anybody in my kitchen.”
Nitro spun, finding she’d ghosted to the doorway between the living room and foyer. “Okay. I need to get used to having a woman cook for me, so…will be good practice.”
She crossed her arms, eyeing him with those raised brows. “And I need to practice cooking for a man. Hurricane, if I’m lucky. Maybe after dinner chores—which you’ll have—you can tell me how this whole eligible maiden stuff works so I can get busy preparing.”
He waited a few seconds before saying, “I hope you’re ready to part with your feathered family.” He regarded her right as his brain realized she’d changed her top to a red one that really fit her perky full breasts. “You didn’t need to change on my account,” he muttered.
She looked down then back at him. “I had bird shit on my t-shirt.”
He grinned, remembering what he was about to say. “Yeah, Hurricane won’t be able to leave his Hatch. But I’m sure you can find a suitable babysitter.”
More cool brows. “Maybe you?”
He chuckled and sat on the couch, pulling his bag to him. “For the right price, I’ll do just about anything.”
“There isn’t anyone who can handle my birds,” she informed. “I’m cooking beef stew. If you have any food allergies let me know. I’ll warn you if I cook them.”
Damn she was feisty. She was clearly on to his tactic and letting him know she wasn’t going to be played with or pushed around. He’d admire it after he had her fucking compliance. Something would present itself.
She stood in the doorway while he busied himself inspecting what he had in his bag. He kept it packed in his boat and had no clue what was in it anymore. Essentials, he was realizing. Toothpaste, toothbrush. Extra set of clothes.
“You can take my Mah-Mah and Pah-Pah’s old room. It’s all clean and fresh for my Hatch master.”
He held back a grin, glancing up to find her in the kitchen just beyond the foyer. He let himself look at her. Fucking damn. His mind played out the whole scene of Hurricane seeing her as a woman now. Then him learning or remembering she used to have a crush on him was going to automatically play into his hands. That was good. And yet not. He stood, considering the real-world implications in this marriage game. He imagined her pretty face when Hurricane cracked one of his crude jokes. Definitely a no. She was in his Hatch, his responsibility. He was committed to protecting her and that damn well included in civil matters, marriage especially. Many of his Hatch fathers consulted him on who was good for who. In her case, she’d be better off with…he went through the options remaining. Maybe Patches. The rest—fuck no.
By the time she yelled, “Dinner’s ready,” he’d had time to make himself at home and grab a shower. He decided to leave trails of his intrusive presence in the bathroom as a reminder of her obstinance. He made his way to the kitchen in black cargo pants and matching muscle shirt. He wasn’t accustomed to wearing so little around a woman, but he made an exception to see where he stood with her still. Any conflict of interest could and would be used to the fullest extent in regards to moving her ass out and preventing her from getting with one of the eligible fools.
****
Nitro tossed and turned on that couch while those fucking birds tweeted their fucking heads off. He finally got up and went in search of the bedroom she’d offered him. He opened several doors then finally spotted one with a bed. He turned on the light to make sure it was bird-less and yelled at finding his least favorite creatures covering the fucking ceiling. Bats!
He shut the door back, breathing through the adrenalin rush. She was fucking crazy!
He made his way to the stairs and headed up, wondering what kind of trick she used to sleep in this madness. Reaching the only door at the top of the stairs, he knocked.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Nitro said too loudly. “Just curious when these birds sleep? Cause I’d like to at some point.”
The door opened and she stood there staring at him. His eyes fell straight into sin, a thin red gown clinging to the outline of her breasts where soft nipples stared back at him. He turned around as a painful arousal pulsed through him, making him forget everything, especially how to fucking breathe.
“The birds settle down around one AM usually.”
“One?” He nearly turned to confirm what still burned in his brain. She was definitely a woman, alright. One that needed ten more years of growing and maturing so she knew not to stand in front of a man dressed like that.
“That’s why I sleep up here,” she said, simply.
Three seconds of silence had him snapping his eyes to the ceiling in her room before returning them to the floor, shaking his head. “You stick me in bird-hell then offer me a room with fucking bats?”
Her giggle drew his gaze and he forced himself to stare only at her face which reminded him of a swamp goddess with her long black hair down. His gaze fell right into temptation, back on her tits before he closed his eyes tight. “You can sleep on the floor in here if you want.”
The tease in her voice kicked his obstinate rebellion in the ass. “I think I will.”
He entered the room and shut the door then looked around. “Spare blankets?”
“I don’t have any,” she said sweetly.
“Oh,” he said, walking over to her bed and taking the pillow and blanket from it and laying it on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping on the floor. You get the bed, I get the blankets and pillow. Unless you want to switch.”
“This is my house.”
“And this my hatch,” he reminded, putting a warning in his tone.
“So that gives you the right to come in here and push me around in my own house?”
He fluffed his pillow. “It gives me the right to do whatever I need to make sure you’re safe. Which you’re not. You wanted to fight me about, so, we’re fighting. It’s what I’m trained to do. Fight anything and everything that threatens my Hatch or anybody in it. Including cute little girls wearing big girl clothes.”
Her breath blasted out. “I’m not a kid anymore, Nitro! And I have my birds, they’re more protection than any man, including arrogant assholes. Those bats are trained to protect me.”
“Now that is very curious and something I’d love to see.”
“You don’t believe me,” she realized, pissed.
“I surely do not, Mah Petite Pwah.”
“I’ll show you,” she said, sounding ready that second. “And I’m not your little pea!”
“Show me tomorrow. I’m tired.”
Ten seconds of silence stretched across the moment before she said, “This bed is big enough for two, bigbrother. But I want my pillow,” she muttered, the bed springs squawking like a giant bird as she climbed in it.
She took the side near the wall, while he took the very edge and put his back to her.
“So how many women am I up against with Hurricane?” she asked right when he was sure she’d fallen asleep.
“I have no clue yet. The whole swamp.”
She gave a snort. “So, what do you have to do? To get picked?”
“I thought you didn’t really want to get picked.”
He waited in the silence, feeling the air churn with her scheming. “Maybe I do. Nothing wrong with a partner.”
Partner. “You mean a husband?”
“Same thing?” she challenged.
“I guess it is. And I told you Hurricane can’t leave his Hatch.”
“Maybe I can move my birds there then.”
Would be the only option but she was definitely bluffing. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d love hauling ten acres of birds to his quarter acre homestead.”
“What about you?”
He waited, getting nothing more. “What about me?” he asked, stressing patience.
“What do you require for a wife,” she drawled, her tone detached.
But it was anything but. “I require a woman that’s submissive, for one.”
She shot out a big laugh. “Good luck there.”
“I know plenty that are. And beautiful.”
“Oh,” she muttered, bored. “Glad to hear it.”
“Are you glad? You gonna serve in my wedding?”
“I’ll be too busy in mine,” she assured dramatically. “How’s Hurricane these days? He’s still gorgeous?”
She was jealous. Fuck, yes. Point for him. “I don’t know, I don’t really look at him that way. Can we sleep now?”
She let out a sigh. “Fine, you should know I actually did like you way waaaay back.”
Why would his dick like that more than anything? “Really,” he muttered, hoping he sounded surprised.
“You wouldn’t have noticed, I was too cute for you.”
He remembered that day vividly. “You were too cute. And sassy. And you’re still both.”
More frustrated breaths filled the silence. “Do you think I have any chance at this stupid ball?” she said after a bit.
“So, you want to get married now?”
“I’m just asking if you think I have a chance.”
“Everybody has a chance.”
“But do you think I’m pretty enough?”
“No,” he lied easily. “But if one of The Twelve likes cute, then you have a big chance.” He didn’t stop his laugh when she punched him in the back.
“And what kind of woman do you like? As in looks.”
“I prefer not saying.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“Blonde, tall, big boobs?”
The idea to turn and do things that would ruin her reputation grew with every second. Then it hit him. It might already be ruined. “I take it you don’t have a boyfriend?”
He waited.
“Maybe I do.”
His hopes went up with that. “The ball is for eligible maidens. That means single virgins.”
The virgin part was dirty, but he’d claim ignorance if she found his lies out.
“Well, I qualify just fine,” she assured.
So, she was a virgin. Everything loosened in him then gradually hardened again as visions of what he’d seen under her gown returned. Fuck, she was too beautiful to be lying in bed with. Was she untouched by a man entirely? “How virgin are you?” he dared, needing to know.
“Didn’t know there was degrees of virginity.”
“There are.”
“How?”
Her genuine challenge burned him in several ways. “There are things you can do with a man that aren’t sex.” Fuck, he was getting aroused.
“Ah,” she said, sounding bored, or pretending to be.
“There’s many forms of pleasure you can have without intercourse,” he went on.
She made soft sputter noises. “I knew that.”
He paused at hearing she didn’t know that. Now he really needed to know how virgin she was.
“And?” he pushed.
“And what?” she pushed back, only her voice was nothing at all like the sassy cute girl she’d been.
“Did you do things that gave you pleasure with a man?”
“That’s private,” she shot out, sounding winded.
“That will be asked of all the eligible maiden’s,” he lied without missing a beat.
She gasped at that. “I had two whole boyfriends in my whole life. One when I was ten and another when I was…nineteen.”
The way her voice faltered on the last one was gas to his curiosity. “Did he touch you?”
“That is definitely not your business.”
“I’m guessing you have zero experience,” he said, poking her independent monster.
“I have more than enough.”
“Do you even know how to kiss? I’m just trying to help you get picked,” he said, paving his way to hell with another lie.
“Of course I can kiss, we kissed. And he…” She seemed to choke on her breaths. “We were adults, and we did adult things.”
“Ah,” he said. “So, your application would have virgin and knows how to kiss.”
“And he…” Again she couldn’t say it. “I didn’t even like it.”
“What did he do?” He was suddenly sure it was a bad idea to know. Next he’d want a name, depending on what he’d done.
“Why do you want to know?” she suddenly asked, sounding breathless.
“I’ll need to know.”
“Even if I’m not marrying you?”
“Do you think you’re exempt from my selections? You’re not.”
The silence that followed burned him. “And what if I don’t want to be in your selection?”
He turned on his back, looking at the ceiling. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” she barely said.
“Do you want to be in my selections?”
“You don’t want me in your selection!”
He turned, putting his back to her again. “You are definitely in my selection. Now tell me.”
He waited and she let out a breath like she’d been holding it. “He…put his mouth…on me,” she barely whispered.
He turned on his back again, staring at the ceiling. “Who was he?”
She gasped. “I’m not telling you that!”
He turned on his side when the need to look at her got barbaric. “Did he make you orgasm?” His cock was pounding with bloodlust.
“Why does that matter?”
“It falls under the virgin degrees. A man wants to know what the woman he’s choosing has done sexually.”
“So what if I never had an orgasm, how does that make a difference?”
His guts loosened while his cock burned at that confession. “So you didn’t.”
“I never said that. Maybe I did.”
“Why are you playing this word game? Did you or didn’t you?”
“I…it didn’t feel good if that’s what you mean but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have it.”
Holy fuck, did she really just say that? “Sweetheart, if it didn’t feel good, then you didn’t have an orgasm.”
“Well, you have your answer, are you happy? I still don’t see how that makes a difference in anything.”
“It makes a lot of difference in a lot of things.”
“What things?”
“It’s not appropriate to say.”
She shot out a single laugh. “I tell you the most embarrassing thing I’ve told anybody, and you can’t tell me that one thing? And how do you know so much about all this if you’re celibate?”
“I wasn’t always celibate.”
Her explosive gasp was fucking comical. “So, you’re not even a virgin? Do the eligible maidens get to know all the dirty sex secrets of The Twelve the way they get to know about the eligible maidens?”
“It bothers you I might not be a virgin?” he asked, wanting to hear just how jealous she might be.
“Well, are you a virgin?”
“In many things, yes.”
“In sex, stupid.”
He had to turn on his back and look at her now, grinning. “Do you want me to be a virgin?”
“I take that as a no since you’re running from the question. So, you all want eligible spotless maidens while yall are some damn male tramps? How is that fair?”
“No, The Twelve are definitely required to be celibate for this.”
She got up on her elbow now. “Celibate doesn’t mean virgin and you know it. You’re playing word games because you’re a male tramp.” She slammed herself back to the bed and stared at the ceiling.
His gaze lowered to her breast, making out the same soft nipple under the material. He also turned his burning stare to the ceiling. “You shouldn’t wear things I can see right through Mah Petite Pwah.”
Her sharp inhale made him grin. She was back on her elbow. “And why not? You’ve seen girls before. What’s another one? Maybe I’ll be a tramp too, like you.”
“I haven’t touched a woman in…” Shit, he forgot he’d just kissed one. “I can’t even recall.”
“Well, I’m not stupid, and I don’t need a man for sex or for anything else.”
“What about for pleasure?” he wondered, his dick jerking wildly at where his mind was headed.
“I think sex is overrated,” she assured, making him laugh. “And for somebody who is so celibate, you sure know a lot about sex and this so-called pleasure.”
“So called?” he laughed. “You don’t believe it exists?”
“I believe it’s blown out of proportion in men’s heads.”
“It definitely is,” he had to laugh. His was throbbing at hearing she’d never had pleasure. The need to stain her sweet body with it rose up again. “I’m actually glad you never had an orgasm.”
“Who gives a shit what you’re glad about, Nitro! Doesn’t make me any less of a woman!” She put her back to him with that.
“No, it sure doesn’t,” he muttered softly. “Makes you more of one.”