Chapter 23
Pen
This is perfect.
That's my first thought when I wake up. The feeling surrounding me is coziness incarnate. Absolute warmth. Total safety. It's not a common feeling. I've only felt it a few times before, but I recognize it. It's what it feels like to hug my best friend…
My eyes open wide, but I don't move otherwise. Of course I recognize the feeling of being in Bear's arms, because I'm in them again. In bed. Under the blankets.
Leon is behind me. I'm using his right arm as a pillow. His left arm curves around my waist and, when I steal a glance down, my eyes latch on the shiny band on his ring finger.
Fuck, I mutter silently. I close my eyes.
Where is that pillow wall I put all my trust in?
Gone, evidently. My husband's body may be soft, but an underlying heat and hidden strength live right beneath his skin.
There's nothing between us, except a layer or two of clothes.
There's nothing to help me ignore how good his body feels against mine.
Now my childhood best friend spoons me on the first morning we wake up married, and it feels so good it should be illegal.
I need space. There has to be a way to rationalize all of this. If I shift just a little—
"Don't move," he grumbles.
I manage to mostly hide the gasp coming out of my mouth. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."
"That is not the issue."
My first reaction is to become immobile. I change my mind as soon as I feel him harden behind me— right against my ass.
"Fuck," he mutters.
While at my parents, his hard-on was a mirage.
Something I could pretend I wasn't looking at from the corner of my eye.
This is different. It's evident, insistent, and I— I can't. This can't be how I discover if he was joking last night with that bottle.
It's not the time to assuage my curiosity, no matter the size of the evidence…
Yet a frisson runs down my spine. The sensation takes over, curling my back until my ass presses on him, seeking… seeking him…
"Pen."
My name comes out of him in a tone I've never heard before. I'm trying to decipher it, and my body decides the best way to do it is to get more friction. I push back again. He must be half-asleep still, because he chooses that moment to grind against me. A long, insistent pass of his cock and—
"Dammit," he groans.
I jump off the bed.
"I need a shower," I squeak.
Whoever chose my pajamas has a sense of humor— or a death wish— because they picked a nightgown that is only a few inches longer than a babydoll. I pull it down my legs, like it can possibly cover enough of my thighs that I won't flash Bear by accident, and dart to the bathroom.
"Shit," I whisper.
I'm breathing hard. My heart is in my throat. In my overwhelm, I can't think much. I turn on the shower, strip, and get under the running water.
The moment Leon's lips touched mine last night, I knew this was the kind of kiss that changes your life.
I still went for another one. Only to follow that with what seemed like a hundred small kisses that sparked more of the same.
So what do I do when I don't want my life to change? Or, especially, our friendship?
When I'm suddenly hyperaware of how big and attractive he is and I badly want to kiss him again?
When I'm wondering where things might have gone, had I fully responded to the way he grinded his cock against me?
A few products stand in a tiled alcove. I open the shampoo bottle and breathe in the scent. It's flowery but in a herbal way. Camomille? Mint? Something else I can't define, but the change helps bring my heartbeat down. I do nothing but take in the shampoo smell, over and over again.
Sure, he was hard, but the kiss is a bigger deal.
I already decided erections are natural and due to hormones and nothing else.
The kiss? I can decide something like that, too.
Anyone can fall victim to a perfectly romantic moment, even a cynic like me.
The happiness billowing through the old greenhouse, my parents' smiles, the tenderness in Bear's eyes.
His generosity to be doing this with me, his friendship, our history together.
It all came together to explode in my chest like that.
I lather shampoo in my hair, then use it as body wash because why not. That's what I felt. Joy, gratefulness, elation. It makes sense.
We don't need to put our friendship in jeopardy for the events of the day before. Pheromones and a few accidental touches are not worth risking what we have, when Bear has high expectations and mine are so small.
I feel much better about everything, until I'm ready to get dressed and realize I have nothing but a towel to wear.
I pause. I'm naked, but that's not why I avoid looking in the mirror.
My body is soft and welcoming and full of dips and hills, and it's a lovely vehicle to live my life in.
I've never been afraid to see its reflection.
But if I look too deeply into my own eyes, I'll start questioning everything else, and I can't afford that.
My hair goes into one towel, then I wrap a bigger one around my body. It doesn't cover as much as I'd like, but enough. I'll exit the bathroom wearing nothing else, because it shouldn't matter, and we need to get used to it to some degree.
Habituation. I looked up the term last night, just to make sure I remembered the definition correctly, and I was using it properly.
The process by which a repeated, inconsequential stimulus stops evoking a response over time, until it is not noticed anymore.
Thank God for my psychology classes.
I open the door and walk out with all the aplomb I can muster.
Despite my efforts, I halt right outside the bathroom door. Bear stands close nearby, looking out the window toward the gardens and greenhouse. He put on jeans on top of his boxers, but they're clearly unbuttoned and holding to his thick form by friction alone.
He turns to me and groans. I gaze up at him, absolutely not trying to see if his problem from earlier is still there, and not at all noticing the long line of black hair going up his torso, or the way it spreads to just the right amount on his chest, or the tattoos covering his arms and the top of his chest and inching to his neck…
I shake my head and stare at the floor.
"Uhm…" I make myself gaze into his eyes. "The shampoo is great, if you want to try it."
He takes a deep breath. "Yeah, it is."
Oh. So he can smell it on me.
Cool, cool, cool.
"I ordered breakfast." He runs a hand down his beard. "It will be here soon. Go ahead and start without me."
I nod.
He nods too. "I'm going to shower now."
"Didn't you shower last night?"
"I need to do that again." He clears his throat, grabs a few clothes from an armchair nearby, and makes for the bathroom.
I don't like this feeling in my chest. It's heavy and it's full of embarrassment. Just like I felt last night. It's too awkward, when things have never been awkward between us before.
My fingers go around his wrist and he stops by me. He stares down into my eyes. With no shoes on, I'm only as tall as his chin. I'm tall, but I'm not often aware of how much taller than me he is. This time, my senses are too hyperaware not to see it clear as day.
"Leon— we need to find a way to make this work. It doesn't have to mean anything, right? It was just…"
He frowns. "We got swept up in the fantasy."
I nod, eagerly taking in his reasoning. "Such a sweet night! Until things got awkward and we— or at least I— got overwhelmed. And this morning… it's not like we have a lot of control over normal human physiology. These things just happen, sometimes. We don't have to let it go any further."
"Right. Yeah."
"We'll keep on going through moments like last night…
maybe even like this morning. Not for the next few days, since we can pretend the honeymoon is just another trip we're taking together.
But my parents are coming to Seattle for Dad's medical exams soon, and we have the championship ring party in a few weeks, and we'll have to keep faking… "
He sighs and rubs his forehead with stiff fingers. "Of course. Yes."
"We cannot let this put too much of a strain on us."
"I wouldn't want that."
"Me neither. So let's be a team on this too, all right? Our friendship matters too much."
He sighs, and his gesture softens.
He gives me a small smile and kisses my temple. "It does. We're not going to let it go wrong."
"We won't," I say, before I watch him go into the bathroom by himself.