Chapter 7 Knight #2
“Sex doesn’t equal marriage,” she snarls.
“It does with us. I only fuck my wife. I only give my wife orgasms. I only give my wife my cum. I’ve fucked you four times, given you several orgasms, and filled you with four loads of my cum. You’re my wife, Octavia.”
Her eyes shutter, and I feel like I’ve lost something.
I don’t like the way she’s hiding from me, but I’m not sure what I can do that will make her reveal herself again.
I consider if sex would help her feel more open, but decide that she needs to understand what it feels like to be mine and know that I’m not just interested in experiencing sexual gratification within her body.
“We should get cleaned up so we can order some furniture,” I say, scooping her into my arms, then standing and carrying her into the bathroom. Placing her down on the counter, I turn on the faucet over the tub.
“I should shower,” she says, sounding tired.
“No. The tub. I’ll help.”
“I don’t need your help,” she protests, but she’s not actually arguing. It sounds more like she’s informing me of her independence, even though she doesn’t really want to exert it.
“I want to help.”
“Are you going to get in with me?” she asks, her cheeks turning pink.
“I’ve never bathed with anyone before,” I tell her.
“Me neither.”
When the tub is half full, I close the distance between us, then slide the destroyed panties from around her waist and drop them into the trash can.
Lifting her up, I carry her to the tub, then step into it, sitting down in the middle with her on my lap, her arms around my neck, her legs wrapped around my hips.
“Why isn’t this weird?” she asks me, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Because this is exactly where we should be,” I tell her, feeling like the answer is obvious.
“Tell me more about you,” she begs, resting her cheek against my shoulder while warm water rises up around us.
“It would be easier for me if you asked me the questions you’d like to know the answers to,” I admit.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asks after a moment.
“I don’t have one.”
“Of course you do. Everyone has a favorite color.”
“What’s yours?” I ask, even though I believe I already know the answer.
“Most people assume it’s black, but it’s actually pink. I just love how dramatic black clothes are. Plus, my hair is naturally this color, and a monotone palette with just a pop of pink here and there works for me. So…what’s yours?” she asks again.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever really considered color with a preference. Black is easier to keep clean. White looks smarter. Khaki is the color most of my clothes were as a child.”
“But what color would you pick if you had the entire rainbow to choose from?” she asks, her tone more animated now.
“I don’t…” I trail off because I’m not sure how to articulate to her that color is irrelevant to me.
“Wow, you really don’t have a favorite, do you?” she questions, lifting her cheek from my shoulder so she can look up at me. “We’ll have to experiment with some colors and see if you can find a preference.”
“Okay,” I agree, uncaring, but willing to do anything if it will make her happy.
“What about food? What’s your favorite food?”
“I don’t have a favorite.”
“Okay, what would you pick to eat if you were out at a restaurant?”
“I usually choose steak,” I tell her.
“I should have guessed,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“What is your favorite?”
“Mac and cheese,” she says, and I feel her lips pull up into a smile against my shoulder. “The gooey, super cheesy kind, not the weird bright yellow out of a box stuff.”
“Tori made me mac and cheese. I enjoyed it,” I tell her.
“Who is Tori?” she asks, stiffening in my arms.
“She’s my friend and Nero’s woman.”
“Oh,” she says, sagging into my chest. “I think I met her. Are you and she close?”
“Yes, she feels like my sister.”
“That’s…that’s nice. Did she know you were coming to get me today?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“I didn’t inform anyone about my intention to collect you and bring you home today, although some of my brothers are aware that I’d found my wife.”
“You told them about me?” she blurts.
“Not your name, just that I had identified who you were to me, and what my plans were for the future.”
“Your…” Lifting her head, she looks up at me again. “Plans?”
“My intention to resign from my position as a smoke jumper. Although my boss, Buck, refused to accept my resignation, and instead insisted I take a leave of absence.”
“You quit your job?” she gasps.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To be with you,” I tell her simply.
“You can’t just quit your job for me,” she says, her expression outraged.
“I enjoyed my job, but I believe that this position was merely intended to bring me to this town. Since moving here, I’ve found a family—brothers and a sister—and now you,” I tell her.
“Most of my brothers have all decided to build their own homes on this compound so we can continue to all live together here in Rockhead Point.”
“What? Here?” she asks.
“I’ve assigned them each a portion of the property, yes.”
“They’ve bought it off you?” she questions.
“No, I’ve gifted it. This is our home. They are my brothers. I’d like our children to grow up surrounded by family.”
I feel rather than hear her sharp gasp, but when she doesn’t offer any explanation, I don’t question her. Instead, I reach around her and turn off the water, then lean back against the side of the tub, repositioning her so she’s lying on top of me instead of wrapped around me.
“Did you really build this house yourself?” she asks after several moments of silence.
“Most of it, although I had to employ a contractor to help when I realized I wanted it to be more than a single-story home.”
“It’s a beautiful house,” she says softly.
“I’m glad you like it. I hoped you would, although if you didn’t, I would have knocked it down and started over.”
She laughs, her body vibrating softly against mine, like she thinks I’m joking, but I’m not. If she hated this house, I’d bulldoze it to the ground. This will be our home for the rest of our lives, and I designed all of it with our future in mind.
“This plot is a little over ten thousand acres. It’s secure, fenced on all four sides, but with access through the gate onto the Barnett property. There’s more than enough room for all of my brothers to build their homes here without it ever feeling crowded.”
“Are all the smoke jumpers your family?” she asks.
“No. But I do consider Buck, Nero, Oz, Danny, Anders, and Warrick my brothers. They, along with Tori, are my family.”
“And they all plan to build houses here?” she asks.
“Buck, Nero, Oz, and Danny have all selected plots of land.”
“Do you think the other two will want to live here too?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Anders and Henry will, I believe. I’m not sure about Warrick. He’s single, and he’s never spoken about his plans for after his time in the fire service is over. But the option is there if he chooses to.”
“It’s nice that you’re so close to your team. Why didn’t you tell them about me?” she questions wearily.
“I thought it would be inappropriate to tell them before I told you,” I admit.
Soft chuckles slowly build into loud, vibrant laughter as she pushes her hands up on my chest and props herself up so she can look at me. “This is crazy. You know that, don’t you?”
“It feels perfectly normal to me.”
Shaking her head, she’s smiling as she settles back against my chest, turning her face so she’s fully resting on me, her cheek pressed against my steadily beating heart.
For a while, we just lie in the water, but when the urge to check the time starts to push at me, I reach for the soap and take care of her, washing her body and hair, before hurrying to get myself clean.
She doesn’t protest when I lift her out of the water or lead her into the closet and offer her the choice of one of my shirts again. Redressing in my clothes from earlier, I take her hand and lead her out of the bedroom and down into the living room.
It’s after 1800 hours by the time I leave her sitting on the couch, scrolling through furniture websites on my iPad. Dinner is at 1900 hours, and I refuse to delay even after our late lunch.
Opening the refrigerator, I retrieve the things I need to make chili and set them neatly on the counter.
Methodically, I work through the recipe I memorized years ago, dicing and sautéing the veggies before adding them to a large pan.
The scent of tomatoes and spices fill the air, and I glance over to look at Octavia.
Instead of finding her expressive eyes on me, they’re closed, her tiny body curled into a ball, her head resting against the arm of the couch as she sleeps peacefully.
She’s still asleep by the time our food is ready, and I debate if I should wake her up or just eat alone and serve her when she opens her eyes. In the end, my need to stick to my schedule urges me to wake her.
“Little doll,” I say quietly, stroking my fingers over her cheek.
She stirs for a second, but quickly settles again.
“Doll, dinner is ready,” I say a little louder.
“Hmm,” she sighs, rolling onto her back, lifting her hand to rub at her face with her eyes still shut.
“Time to wake up,” I tell her, feeling the ticking inside of me, as 1900 hours clicks past.
I’m relieved when her lids flutter open and she looks up at me, her face free of makeup and so beautiful my penis starts to swell and grow again.
“Hey,” she says, blinking as she glances from me to the room around us. “Where am I?”
“You fell asleep on the couch. But dinner is ready,” I tell her, feeling my muscles getting tighter and tighter with every moment that passes.
“Oh,” she answers, lifting her arms up and stretching, making my shirt rise and giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her bare thighs.
“Let me help,” I offer insistently, pushing up from where I’m kneeling beside the couch and offering her a hand.