Chapter 15 #2
The robe hangs open just enough to question every good decision I’ve ever made. Her skin glows soft from the heat, curls clinging to her neck, steam still drifting around her like a damn halo.
Then my eyes, traitors, slide lower. Legs. Thighs.
This is it.
My noble death.
I’ll be welcomed into Valhalla, suffocated between them.
She is sin.
Sin wrapped in silk and steam.
She is so fucking breedable.
There, I said it.
Trey, she was crying. Get your head out of—
Out!
Okay. Deep breaths.
Claim her, make her yours.
“Well, gee, that’s super not helpful,” I mutter under my breath, because apparently, I’ve become the kind of guy who argues with his own cock.
Which, by the way, is now wide awake.
It twitches.
Like a mole popping out of a hangout.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I clear my throat, pretending to be a functioning human being.
“So…wifey-to-be,” I say quietly, “Tell me about you. What do you like? What don’t you like? I want to know.”
Smooth. Real smooth.
Totally casual.
Nothing says emotionally stable future husband like asking deep questions while your cock is trying to poke an eye out.
You fucking degenerate.
She blinks up at me, startled. “I…I don’t know,” she murmurs
“I…I like to draw,” she whispers finally, tracing her fingers along the seam of the robe. “But…TV, movies, music…I wasn’t allowed to watch them much. I…I don’t really know what I like. What I want. I only…I only knew what I had to do.”
Thank you, Lord, for seeing sense and letting my boner go at such solemn words.
Perhaps I can be saved after all.
I take a careful step closer. “Then we’ll start small,” I murmur, voice low, deliberate. “You tell me what you like, even if it’s tiny. Even if it’s silly. We’ll figure it out together.”
Her gray eyes lift to mine. A nervous smile flits across her lips.
She bites her lower lip, then exhales softly, like she’s testing the air, testing me.
“I…I love animals. Dogs, mostly. I…I’ve had pizza twice in my life,” she says, voice catching slightly.
“It was…delicious. And…I like clouds. Big, white, fluffy clouds. And…I like the sound of rain. Not the storms. Just…rain tapping against windows.”
I blink at her, heart hammering. She’s listing small, simple joys, and I can’t believe how precious each one feels. Pizza twice. Clouds. Rain. The fact that she’s never experienced normal little things is a punch to my chest.
She swallows, curls bouncing with the motion, and her voice softens further. “I…I like when people are kind. Even little things. A smile, a word…it feels…good.”
The honesty, the vulnerability, makes my chest constrict. I press my lips into a thin line and pace again, letting my boots squeak softly against the floor. The heater hums louder in the pause between my steps, the distant traffic murmuring. It’s mundane, normal—but she’s never had normal.
“Well, Dove,” I say, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna have a lot of fun. The world’s got plenty to show you—and I can’t wait to screw up my firsts all over again, this time through your eyes.”
I stop mid-step, taking a breath, letting my gaze linger on her. “All of it,” I murmur, “every little thing you like…we’ll make room for it. Every small joy you’ve been denied, we’ll make it yours.”
Her lips tremble into a ghost of a smile.
I see her fingers twitch, like she wants to touch something, to feel that it’s real.
I can’t reach for her. I won’t. Not yet.
But I’ll be here, every second, letting her exist, letting her choose her own world.
We’re going to Lego the fucking shit out of her world, brick by brick. One experience at a time.
When she finally steps closer, robe brushing her thighs, the soft shiver of cold under her skin evident in the tilt of her shoulders, I feel a pulse of something darker, something fierce.
She hesitates, robe slipping slightly at the shoulder, and tilts her head like she’s gathering courage. “What about you?” she asks softly, voice almost lost in the hum of the heater. “What do you like?”
I blink.
Me? She wants to know about me?
Now?
My chest tightens, but a grin creeps in anyway—slow, sly, can’t-help-it kind of grin. “Me?” I echo, pacing a little to keep from doing the obvious thing—like, say, pining her against the wall and sinning six ways to Sunday.
“I like…” I drag the word out, pretending to think. “Coffee strong enough to put hair on your chest. Music loud enough to make your neighbors hate you. Pizza with extra cheese. And if it’s not delivered fast enough, I yell. A lot.”
She quirks an eyebrow, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Is that…all?”
Oh, sweetheart, not even close.
I twirl the remote between my fingers, pacing a slow circle like a man solving quantum mechanics instead of how not to pop a boner mid-heart-to-heart.
Okay, be honest, Trey. But not too honest.
Don’t mention how you love edging a woman until her thighs tremble, and her eyes roll back.
Don’t mention how the sound of a woman’s breath catching, right before you make her cum is better than any chorus you’ve ever written.
Yeah, maybe keep that one in the vault, champ.
Still, my brain whispers, go on, give her a peek behind the curtain.
Making a woman go cross-eyed while I eat her pussy.
Fingers deep, tongue deeper.
Her nails scratching down my back.
Her voice breaking on my name.
Titty fucking’s hot.
A good blow job is basically an art form.
Pegging? Not my jam. Not since the ladle incident.
Long story. Don’t ask.
Out loud I clear my throat. “Oh, you know…I like dogs. Big ones. Scary-looking but soft hearted. And I like…revenge flicks.” I risk a glance at her. She’s smiling now—barely—but it’s there, like a sunrise creeping up on me.
“Candy is hit or miss,” I add, shrugging. “But, English chocolate? Swiss chocolate? Ruined me. Can’t eat a Reese’s or Hershey’s now without feeling personally offended.”
She laughs—a soft surprised sound—and I swear my chest cracks open a little.
God help me, I’d give up every kink just to hear that sound again.
“Do you…ever do anything calm?” she asks, head tilting, curls sliding over her shoulder like liquid flame. “Or is it all…coffee, pizza, dogs, and movies?”
I grin, leaning against the wall, the weight of the remote forgotten in my hand. “Calm?” I echo. “Dove, that is calm. You should see me in chaos.”
Steam still curls from the bathroom, wrapping around her like it’s jealous, and I swear the air between us hums. I shrug, trying for casual, but I can feel her eyes on me—sharp, soft, curious.
“I can handle both,” I say finally. “Chaos, calm. I’ve done my time in both.
Previous dating experience has taught me good things can happen in either. ”
She considers that, gaze dipping, voice going quiet. “I…I never asked,” she murmurs, fidgeting with the tie of her robe. “If…if our marriage will cause you problems. Is there…someone out there who’ll be heartbroken?”
I lean back a little, sliding my hands into my pockets like I’m the most relaxed man alive. “Oh, yeah,” I say smoothly. “Millions. They’ll be devastated. Candles. Tears. Probably an emotional support group.”
Her brow furrows, uncertainty flashing. I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Relax. I’m joking. Mostly.”
Then—because I can’t help myself—I add, “But, you know, I think there’ll have to be rules. Trey’s rules for a happy marriage.”
I want to make you cum every day and breed you until you crave nothing but my cock…
Whoa. Where the fuck did that come from?
Please, God. Don’t let me have a breeding kink.
Not now. Not while she’s still drying her hair and trying to look at me like I’m safe.
I clear my throat. “Rule one,” I start, like I’ve totally got my shit together.
“Don’t ever, ever let me catch you sneaking chocolate when I’ve said we’re sharing it.
Rule two. No leaving me without warning.
Rule three. You can’t fall in love with anyone else.
Rule four…” I pause, watching her closely, teasing just to see that spark light behind her eyes.
“…you can make up your own. I’m not heartless. I’m negotiable.”
Her lips twitch, a sound caught between a laugh and disbelief. “I…I don’t know if I can handle all your rules,” she says, her voice playful now—soft but braver. There’s mischief there, flickering to life like the first match strike in the dark.
I grin, dimples cutting deep. “You don’t have to handle them all at once.
Rule five. You have to laugh at my terrible jokes.
Rule six. You have to stop me when I try to do something stupid.
” I hold up a hand. “Like climbing onto the roof at midnight. Or trying to break up celebrity couples on Raya.”
She giggles—light, pure, the kind of sound that cuts straight through my chest and lodges there. “I think I can handle those,” she says, eyes brightening. “Maybe. But…what’s a Raya?”
“Dating app,” I say. She still looks lost. “Basically, you look at someone’s face and decide whether it’s kissable.”
Or fuckable, my brain adds helpfully.
Her grin widens, curls bouncing as she shakes her head, and something deep inside me tightens—part pride, part protectiveness, part, oh shit, I’m in trouble.
“O-oh. Okay. Fine,” she says softly. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good,” I murmur, letting my voice dip low, teasing, the air stretching tight between us. “Because if you break any of the rules…”
I trail off, watching her swallow, the pink climbing her throat.
“…there will be consequences.”
The words hang there—heavy, deliberate, laced with everything I’m not supposed to want.
Her laugh comes out a little louder this time—free. She curls in on herself, the robe slipping slightly at her shoulder, and I catch a flash of pale skin, the faintest tremor of warmth against all the cold November air pressing at the windows.
That sound—her laugh—it’s like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. It fills the cracks in the walls, in me. The heater hums quietly, the city outside reduced to a hush of rain and passing headlights.
She’s perched on the edge of the bed, wrapped up tight but glowing in a way she wasn’t before.
There’s a spark now, tiny but alive, burning right there behind her eyes.
For the first time since she crashed into my orbit, she doesn’t look like she’s drowning.
She looks like she’s learning how to breathe again.
I step closer, slow, like I might scare the moment away. “I do have a serious question for you,” I say, tone dropping low.
Her brows lift, the playful spark dimming into something softer. “What is it?”
I let the silence stretch, let the sound of her breathing fill the space between us. Then I lean down, close enough for my voice to brush her skin.
“Just what did you do to me,” I murmur, eyes locked on hers, “when you blessed me on my knees in church?”