Chapter 8 #2
“I’ll explain it to you another time. My point is that a few flowers, some candles, and a bottle of champagne are insignificant to me, sweetheart.
So are clothes and pretty things for your hair.
Jewelry. Toiletries. I can afford whatever we want, Rebekah.
So don’t worry about money. It will never be an issue for us. ”
“I don’t think I can wrap my head around that.”
“In time, you will.” I bring my lips to hers because I can’t go another minute without kissing her again. Her lips are so soft and sweet. The little purrs she makes drive my arousal through the roof. It’s going to be rough, waiting for her to be ready to take me.
Eventually, I break the kiss. We’re both panting. Her cheeks are adorable when they’re this flushed. I’m sure this happens often since her skin is so fair and she’s so innocent and easily embarrassed. Her cheeks turn pink when she’s my feisty firecracker, too. Right now she’s aroused, though.
I set my forehead against hers. “Let’s eat dinner. I need to feed you.”
“It smells so good in here. I’m not sure where I’ll put it all, though. I can’t remember when I’ve eaten as much in one day as you fed me at lunch.”
“You need to eat more, sweetheart. Only eat what you want. I never want you to feel like you have to clean your plate or stuff food in when you’re no longer hungry, but I never want you to feel hungry again.
When your stomach grumbles, go to the fridge or the pantry and grab something.
We’ll figure out what your favorite foods are, and I’ll make sure they’re always on hand. ”
The concept of that is foreign to her, but we’ll work on it. I need to remember not to fill her plate too full. She’ll think she has to clean every morsel, and I never want her to feel nervous about leaving food.
I lift her off the counter and stand her on her feet. “Sit at the table, sweetheart. Let me get the roast out of the oven.”
“I could do it,” she says.
“Nope. Let me wait on you.”
“Okay…”
I pull the pot out of the oven and carry it to the table, setting it on a pot holder. I know she’s not used to being waited on, and I intend to make her feel like a princess.
“Who cooked this?” she asks.
“Not sure. We usually take turns. I think it was Andrew’s night. He took out our portion and sent it here so we could be alone.”
“I don’t want your brothers to go out of their way for me. I don’t want them to think I’m a burden.”
I cup her face. “You will never be a burden. You’re one of us now. We take care of each other. We do nice things for each other. We’re a tight family. Eventually, my brothers will all marry, and when they do, we’ll help them out in a similar way.”
“That sounds nice.”
I return to the cabinets to grab plates, but at the last second, I hesitate and come up with a different plan. I only bring one plate to the table. One fork and knife. One glass of water.
Before taking a seat, I fill the plate with too much food, sit at an angle, and pat my thigh. “Come here, sweetheart.”
She stares at me quizzically, her brows furrowed, as she hops off her seat and comes around the corner of the table to me.
I lift her onto my lap, her bottom on my thigh, her legs between mine. Without a word, I stab into a small bite of the beef, blow on it, and bring it to her lips.
She giggles. “You don’t have to feed me.”
“I want to.”
She leans forward and opens her mouth, accepting the bite.
My heart.
She moans around the flavor, her eyes sliding halfway closed. When she swallows, she says, “Wow, that’s so good. I can’t remember ever tasting anything this delicious, except maybe the sandwich you made me earlier.”
My chest tightens at the thought of her not having eaten well for years.
I offer Rebekah another bite, this time of potatoes.
I could watch her eat for the rest of my life and never tire of it.
I could hold her like this all day, every day, too.
The more I think about it, the more I like this plan.
If we share a plate, she won’t feel obligated to eat more than she wants, nor will she have too little and be too shy to ask for more.
This is perfect. When she’s full, I’ll eat the rest. Eventually, she’ll be more comfortable in our home and know that she’ll never again have food insecurities.
She’ll open the fridge without a thought and grab an apple or a cheese stick.
But that’s a long way off. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy feeding her.
I take a bite—much larger than hers—and then offer her more. In between, I tip the glass of water to her lips so she can get a drink.
She twists her head to look at me. “You don’t have to feed me, Adam.”
“Mmmm. I like this idea. I get to hold you close and make sure you eat at the same time. It’s a win-win.
” I hold the fork up to her lips again. When she lifts her hand to take it from me, I reach up with my other, circle her wrist, and lower her palm to her lap.
“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” I say softly.
She doesn’t argue further, and we enjoy the rest of the meal without either of us saying much. To me, the silence is comfortable. I think she feels the same, too. It’s as if we’ve been together for years instead of hours. This precious woman on my lap is my wife. Mine forever.
I can’t wait to take this dress off her and show her what it means to be loved by me. That might only happen with my mouth and my fingers tonight, but she will learn.
Eventually, I hold up a bite, and she shakes her head. “I’m full, Adam.”
“Good girl.” I kiss her temple and finish eating before shoving the plate away.
“I think you tricked me,” she says, giggling.
“It would seem that way. Did it work?”
“Probably. I’m stuffed.” She wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me close.
God, I love the feeling of her soft skin against mine. “Have you ever had champagne?” I ask her, knowing that’s incredibly unlikely.
Easing her grip, she says, “No.”
“Shall we try it? It’s a celebration. I promise I will take you on a proper honeymoon soon, but for tonight, we have flowers, candles, strawberries, and champagne.”
“Those are the prettiest strawberries I’ve ever seen.”
“They do look delicious, don’t they? We’ve been working on getting a garden started next to the barn. Hopefully by next summer, we’ll be producing most of our own produce.”
“A garden?” She sits taller. “My mother always had a garden. I loved helping her. Everything died after she passed. Hannah and I were too distraught to remember to take care of it. My father didn’t pay any attention to anything.
And then Hannah left. I kicked myself for months because it meant we didn’t have as much food that winter. ”
“You like gardening, sweetheart?”
“I love it. I know a lot about fruits and vegetables, and when they need to be planted. Maybe I could help.”
“You can definitely help. Hell, you can be in charge if you want. Our parents always had a garden when we were growing up, too. We recognize the importance of it, but we all have jobs, so it’s hard to give the land the attention it needs.”
“You all have jobs?” Her face scrunches up.
I chuckle as I reach around her with both arms to pull the bucket of champagne and the bowl of strawberries closer to us. “Yep. We have offices in the main house. I’ll give you a tour and tell you what I do when we feel like venturing out.”
“So you don’t go somewhere off the property to work?”
“Nope. We all work from here, just like our parents did.” I carefully remove the foil from the top of the bottle. “I’m going to push this cork with my thumbs, and it’s going to be loud when it pops out. It will also fly across the room. Are you ready?”
She grabs the edge of the table and braces herself. “I guess.”
When the cork pops free, she nearly jumps off my lap, but I wrap an arm around her and steady her. “Told you it would be loud.”
“That’s so weird.”
I pull one of the two flutes forward and pour the effervescent champagne into it. First, I hold it to my nose and inhale to make sure it smells right. I hold it up between us. “A toast. To us. To a long life of love.”
She smiles broadly.
I take a tiny sip. “Oh yeah.” And then hold it up to her lips. “Try it.”
God, I love how she leans slightly forward to accept my offering. With my other hand, I hold both of hers against her thighs. After initially trapping her fingers before, I hadn’t let go. I like the feel of her small hands in mine. I also like the hitch in her breath when I give a slight squeeze.
I know I’m subtly dominating her. I can’t help it. It’s my nature. I want to take care of her in every way she’ll let me. It’s one of the ways I’ll show her how much I love her.
Her brows scrunch as she takes her first taste.
“What do you think?”
“I’m not sure. It’s different.”
“Have you ever had any alcohol, sweetheart?”
“No. My dad drinks moonshine all the time. It smells awful and makes him mean.”
“Well, I don’t drink very often, nor do I ever drink enough to alter my personality. We can enjoy a nice glass of champagne in celebration tonight, but I promise you’ll never see me being mean.”
I take another drink. It’s good.
“Want to try again?” I ask.
She nods.
Gripping her hands, I tip the flute back and let her have a bigger sip this time. She smiles. “I like it.”
I set the glass down and reach for a strawberry. Holding it up to her lips, I say, “Now, take a bite of the berry and then a sip of champagne. The flavors mesh well together.”
The sexiest sight I’ve ever seen is my wife opening her pink lips to bite into the strawberry. I stifle a groan, hoping she doesn’t notice the enormous bulge pressing against her hip.
After eating the other half of the berry, I give her a sip of the delicious effervescence and then take another drink myself.
“That’s really good.” She leans into me.
She doesn’t need more than four or five sips. I don’t want her getting drunk.
When we’ve had enough, I tip her chin toward me and kiss her gently, lingering long enough that she squirms and whimpers on my lap. I lick the sweetness from her lips and smile at her. “I’m going to put some things away in here. Do you want to go use the bathroom while I do so?”
“Okay.”
I set her on her feet and kiss her again. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.” I want to give her some time alone, but not long enough for her to panic or fret. There’s no need for that, but she doesn’t know what to expect from me, so I’m sure she’s nervous.
As she pads from the room, I watch her gorgeous hair sway down her back. She really is pretty in her mother’s dress, and the dainty white flats are perfect.
After cleaning the kitchen and blowing out all the candles, I check the locks on the doors and head for the bedroom. The bathroom door is closed. A small paper bag sitting on the nightstand catches my attention, and I smirk as I pick it up.
One of my brothers has written a note on it.
Just in case your girl doesn’t want to get pregnant tonight.
I roll my eyes and put the bag in the drawer. If it’s necessary, I’ll pull it back out. I would never force Rebekah to take risks she’s not ready for, but I don’t know if we’ll even get that far tonight.