Chapter 13
Esther
I loved the slippers.
They weren’t expensive. I could tell from the tag that he’d bought them at a local big box store. They weren’t even that pretty. I ran my fingers over the sheepskin along the edge. They were soft, though, and they’d definitely be warm.
“You don’t have to say that,” Otto murmured with a huff. “I’m sorry. I feel like an asshole. You got me a whole electric garage door opener, and I bought you fuckin’ slippers? Jesus.”
“It was thoughtful,” I argued, kicking off my shoes.
“I’m an asshole,” he replied under his breath.
“Why?” I dropped the slippers to the floor and slid my feet into them. They fit a bit roomy, but I would bite off my own tongue before I said so. “I got you a gift I thought you’d like and you got me a gift you thought I’d like.”
“Those are not equal gifts,” he blurted, crossing his arms over his chest.
I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled to the surface. “You’re right,” I said, trying to control my smile. “Considering I used your money to buy your gift.”
He waved off my logic. “That doesn’t matter.”
“I love my present,” I replied with absolute honesty.
He’d bought me something that he knew I needed because he wanted me to be warm and safe. As I’d watched the emotions flash across his face—panic, embarrassment, shame—I’d braced myself for some horrendous gift that I’d have to pretend to be thankful for.
But I didn’t have to pretend. No matter what Otto believed, I thought the slippers were uncharacteristically sweet coming from him.
Getting to know Otto as we lounged around on his parents’ couch and visited with his family and went out to eat, I’d come to realize that he was protective. Smart. Kinder than people realized. Impatient and Funny. But I wouldn’t have described him as sweet until I’d opened those slippers.
“Will you cut the tags off?” I asked, wiggling my feet.
He dropped to one knee and snipped the tags quickly with his pocket knife. “I’m gettin’ you somethin’ better,” he grumbled as he stood back up and tossed the tags on the counter.
“They feel really good on my feet,” I countered, grinning.
He stared, disbelief all over his face, but I didn’t stop smiling until he chuckled a little under his breath.
“I tell you that you looked beautiful today?” he said, leaning against the counter.
“You may have said something like that,” I mused.
“Good.”
The house was silent around us.
“We’re married now.”
“We are,” I murmured.
“You know what that means.”
“What?” I asked innocently. The look in his eyes made my skin break out in goosebumps.
“No more keepin’ my hands to myself.”
“Oh that.” I waved my hand nonchalantly.
“Yeah, that.” He laughed, moving forward.
I had time to inhale one deep breath before his hand was in my hair and the other was sliding down my back and curving around my butt. As I tilted my head back to look at him all of the tension in my body melted away.
We were married. It hadn’t been in a church, and my family hadn’t witnessed it happen, but those things didn’t make it any less true. Otto Hawthorne was my husband. The shame and anxiety that had surrounded our physical relationship was no longer a factor.
There wasn’t anything shameful about being aroused by my husband. There wasn’t anything to fear. Marital relations were not only acceptable, but important. The memory of my mom, grimacing as she’d said those words, hit me out of nowhere. I shoved it away.
“There’s a fuckton of buttons on the back of this dress,” Otto muttered against my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip.
“They’re just for show,” I said, squeaking as his hand tightened on my butt. “There’s a zipper.”
“Thank God.”
I closed my eyes as he kissed me and his hands went to the nape of my neck, searching for the zipper tab.
It took only seconds before he was sliding it slowly down my spine, careful not to catch my hair.
I was focused on his lips and the way his tongue slid against mine, making my legs go weak, but I couldn’t stop the sigh that left me as the pressure around my midsection lessened.
The dress fit me, but it hadn’t been made with pregnancy in mind, and had been just a smidge too tight around my belly.
Otto pulled away, and as he took a small step backward, he peeled the dress forward off my shoulders and down. Inch by inch.
I swallowed hard and watched his face, his eyes intent on every sliver of skin exposed.
“You’re tryin’ to kill me,” he breathed when the dress dropped below my breasts. “You’ve been wearing that under all those church girl clothes?”
I huffed and glanced down at the lacy white bra. “No. It’s new.”
“Just for me, then,” he said, his lips tipping up at the corners. “I approve.”
He moved more quickly after that, pulling the dress down to my knees and helping me step out of it. He walked a few steps to the table and hung my dress over the back of a chair before turning to face me again.
“One of these things ain’t like the others,” he joked, looking me over.
I glanced down, taking in the lacy bra and underwear, thigh-high stockings, and fuzzy slippers. I shrugged. I wasn’t taking them off.
“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he said, still standing halfway across the room. “Holy hell, Esther.”
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as he took his time, his eyes slowly moving from one part of me to the next. Without a word and without taking his eyes off me, he slid the leather vest off his shoulders and laid it on top of my dress.
“You looked nice today,” I said hoarsely, more to fill the charged space than anything else.
“Thanks,” Otto murmured, unbuttoning his shirt.
As he peeled it off, I watched the muscles in his chest move and contract. My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I wasn’t sure what he was doing with this slow undressing. Everything between us up to that point had been frantic and fast, but I couldn’t dispute the way it made my entire body heat.
He kicked off his boots and raised an eyebrow at me, but I stubbornly left my slippers on, making him chuckle.
Then his pants were off and desire hit me so hard that I felt a little lightheaded as he bent down to pull off his socks.
“What’s on your back?” I breathed, catching a glimpse of something at the back of his neck.
“Oh, right,” he murmured, turning so I could see the whole tattoo. It was some kind of logo, and it was huge, but before I could see what it said, he’d turned to face me again.
“Club tattoo,” he informed me easily. “Didn’t have it when we hooked up.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Not too bad.” He smiled and my knees almost buckled.
Otto was thick. His arms and chest and thighs were all corded with muscle. I’d seen him mostly naked before, but there was a huge difference between catching glimpses of someone in the dark and watching them stride toward you under the bright lights of the kitchen in nothing but their underwear.
My heart raced, but I didn’t even realize how nervous I was until Otto reached me, leaning down to pull me into a surprisingly platonic hug.
I sagged against him.
I’d been pushing back every emotion I could, getting by the same way I had in the cabin by focusing on the next thing to be done.
Instead of focusing on choosing meals and cutting firewood and exploring a new section of the woods, I’d been preparing for the next time I’d see Otto, keeping all of my things neatly packed in his parents’ guest room, trying to put my best foot forward with his family.
I hadn’t allowed myself to wonder if my family noticed I was missing yet or how they would react to the fact that I’d married someone outside the church.
I hadn’t let myself even consider the consequences once I’d agreed to marry Otto because I knew what they would be and there was nothing I could do to change them.
I’d recklessly and deliberately tied my life with his.
“You okay?” he whispered, pressing his lips against my temple.
“Yes,” I lied.
The choice had been made. I beat back the panic that flared in my chest. I’d gone through with it. This was our house. He was my husband. I wasn’t ever going back to the cabin and my family was lost to me.
“You sure?” he asked, leaning back to meet my eyes. I wasn’t sure what he saw there, but his brows furrowed in concern. “Come on,” he ordered softly.
I followed numbly as he pulled me out of the kitchen and up the stairs, my slippers squeaking a little on the floor. Guilt settled like a rock in my chest as we made our way down the hallway. He’d been happy and the kitchen had been charged with excitement until I’d ruined it.
“Of course,” he muttered with a huff as we reached his bedroom. The bed was covered in flower petals and there were unlit candles all over the dresser. I only had a few moments to wonder who’d done it—because Otto clearly hadn’t—before he was pulling a white T-shirt over my head.
I slid my arms into it as he strode toward the bed and threw the quilt back, making the petals fly all over the room.
“Climb in, baby.”
I looked at him in confusion, wondering why in the world he’d given me a T-shirt if we were getting into bed.
“Been a long day,” he said, gesturing.
I climbed onto the bed and lay down, still staring at him.
Otto laughed.
“Scoot over,” he ordered gruffly. “I sleep by the door.”
“Why do you get to be closer to the door?” I asked, inching back to the other side of the bed.
“Ah, she speaks,” he joked, climbing in next to me. “I wondered if you’d gone mute.”
“I get up to pee all the time,” I warned, ignoring him. “I should be closer to the door.”
He laughed and turned on his side to face me, curling one arm under his head. “I sleep closest to the door,” he replied firmly. “Someone comes through it, they get to me first.”
I jolted in surprise. Who did he think would be coming into our bedroom?
“You’ll just have to walk the three extra steps around the bed when you have to pee.”
“I’ll just climb over you,” I said easily, shrugging.
“Go ahead.” He grinned. “I’ll enjoy that.”
We lay there for a while, quiet.