22. Astrid
ASTRID
The doorbell rings, and I look at the girls with a frown. No one ever rings my doorbell. Then again, I haven’t had a door with a keypad on it before.
They follow me to the front of the house. I open the door with a big smile, ready to welcome whoever it is. But my hand falls to my side, and my smile dies immediately when I see my husband standing on my front porch.
“Declan?”
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him do, then tucks his hands into his pockets. He meets my gaze, but he looks almost sheepish.
“It occurs to me that I have been bursting into your life, and literally into your home, from the beginning. I’ve been demanding and bossy, haven’t really asked you many questions, and certainly haven’t asked you permission for much of anything. I’m sorry for that.”
I hear a quiet gasp behind me but cannot pull my eyes away from him. I know my mouth is hanging open.
Declan O’Grady does not apologize often or easily. I’m not sure how I know that with such certainty, but I do.
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” I tell him, honestly.
He shakes his head. “That is not true. I definitely do. For the past twenty months, I have been making a lot of assumptions. That was really unfair of me.”
I frown. “I think by now you know that I will tell you, in no uncertain terms, when I don’t like something that you’ve done.”
He inclines his head, acknowledging that, but then says, “I’m sorry I forced you to tell me something so private that you clearly didn’t want me to know.” He swallows. “And I will be going back to Portland tomorrow. If that’s what you want.”
I stare at him. This is so not what I expected.
Of course, the milkshakes and girlfriend time weren’t either.
But then that tracks. Nothing he has done since he got here has been what I’ve expected.
“But I am asking permission to come inside and stay here one more night. Something I probably should’ve done the very first time. Before I just forced my way in and then changed all your windows and doors.”
I manage to shut my mouth and shake my head. Then, finally, an emotion that makes sense and that I know what to do with rises up, overtaking all the others.
Exasperation.
I plant my hands on my hips, letting the blanket I’ve had around me like a cape fall to the floor. Dressed in only his dress shirt, I regard the man that I am married to, am insanely attracted to, and am seemingly constantly surprised by.
“Of course, you are going to do exactly the opposite of what I want you to do,” I tell him. “That is what you have been doing all along. And certainly since you got to Rebel, but really ever since you walked into your grandfather's chambers and said we should get married.”
He nods. “I know. Astrid, I will—”
I cut him off. “Just when I decide that I want you to give me orgasms, you’re going to leave? Now you’re going to go back to Portland? When I want you here? When I like you?”
He stares at me. But it seems to take him only a few seconds to process it all. He steps forward, crowding close. I don’t give up an inch.
“You want me here?”
“Yes.” I meet his gaze directly, but I wish my voice wasn’t so breathy. “And did you hear the part about the orgasms?”
His eyes flare with heat and emotion. “Oh, yes, I heard that.” His voice is a little rough now. “I also heard the part about how you like me.”
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I still find you to be one of the most frustrating people I know.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Ditto.”
A throat clears behind us, and Nora says, “I think we’re all gonna go.”
“Are you serious?” Andi asks. “This is way more interesting than what we were talking about a little bit ago.”
Nora gasps. “We were discussing summer festival ideas!”
“Like I said…” Andi says.
Sutton laughs, and the next thing I know, they are at the front door, nudging me back, nudging Declan closer to me, and slipping out around him.
“Bye, Astrid,” Sutton says.
“Love you,” Nora tells me. “Have fun.”
They both giggle.
I just shake my head, but I’m grinning.
“Put my milkshake in the freezer. I want it later,” Andi says, then over Declan’s shoulder she makes a kissy face and fans her face.
Yeah, I agree. My determined-looking-as-usual husband is staring at me with enough heat that I feel my palms begin to sweat.
He reaches behind him and pushes the door shut, without even glancing back.
He lifts a hand and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Are you sure about this? Now? Tonight?”
I shake my head. Then nod. “No. Yes. Not at all. Totally for sure.”
His smile grows, and he cups my face with one big hand. “From what I’ve read, that is a really good answer.”
I reach up and cover his hand with mine. “Nora said that you were doing some reading.”
“I want to know all about it. But I didn’t think you should have to tell me everything. I’m sure you get tired of explaining it and talking about it.”
I do actually, and I’m startled and relieved that he gets that. “Yes. But with you, I don’t mind. I should tell you everything. Every woman is different. The things you read were probably a good start, but how it all works for me is going to be specific.”
“How it all works for you is what I care about. But you can tell me, or not tell me, whatever you want.”
I move closer until my breasts brush the front of his shirt. “The most important thing I want you to know is I want you. I fantasize about you.”
His eyes darken, and I see his jaw tighten.
I wet my lips and continue. “Part of my therapy is touching myself. Giving myself orgasms. So that I associate that area of my body with pleasure. It took a long time, but I’m definitely there. At least when I’m alone. And a big part of that was imagining you touching me.”
I take a little breath. He says nothing, not moving to interrupt or ask a question or even breathe too hard.
“I stole this shirt from your closet before I left Portland. I wear it every single night in bed. And I bathe with your body wash at night before bed. That way I have your scent all around me. It really helps with the fantasy.”
I lean in and put my nose against his shirt, rubbing my face back-and-forth and inhaling deeply. I haven’t been able to freely do this, and it’s absolute bliss. “I fucking love the way you smell.”
I’m standing close enough that I can hear and feel the deep, shaky breath he takes.
His hand moves from my cheek to the back of my head. “Jesus, you have no idea what you do to me, Firework.”
I tip my head back to look up at him. “Firework?”
“I won’t use that if you don’t like it,” he tells me.
“I just don’t know where it comes from.”
His gaze flicks toward the couch. “You were so hot, and absolutely beautiful, and you went off so fast. And were a little loud…”
His meaning is clear, and my cheeks flush hot instantly. I bury my face against his shirt and laugh. “Oh, my God.”
His fingers curl into my hair. “Best moment of my life,” he says.
That cannot be true, but I don’t protest the words.
Instead, I decide to enjoy this closeness and show him that I mean what I say. I want him. And I definitely want him to stay. I lift my hands and rest them on his waist, then slide to his back, stroking my palms up and down.
He breathes deeply in and out, and then I feel his chin on the top of my head.
We just stand there for a moment, absorbing the feel of one another.
Eventually, he says, “You’re in charge of this, Firework. Whatever happens, you lead.”
I didn’t expect anything else, but I feel some tension ease from my shoulders hearing him say it anyway.
I turn my head and rest my cheek against his chest. “I guess the thing is, I’m not sure how it’s going to go.
And the truth is, we could be going along, and everything is fine, and then something could not be fine suddenly. ”
His other hand comes to rest on my lower back, and he strokes back-and-forth slowly, comfortingly. “I’m okay with that. Whatever happens, I’m okay with it. This is amazing.”
I smile, tipping my head to look up at him. “You want to just cuddle?”
He doesn’t smile. He gives me a serious look. “Yes. If that’s what you need. If that’s all I can have.”
I press my face into his chest. That, maybe more than anything, makes me want so much more.
“Trust me, I want everything. I just really hope I can have it.”
I realize that I have been so overwhelmed with emotion and the sensations of being held by him this way, up against him the first time and sharing this quiet, intimate moment, that I didn’t realize until just now that he is hard.
As in aroused. As in his cock is big and hard and pressed against me. And oh wow, I like that.
Without really thinking about it, I press closer.
If I wasn’t standing as close as I am, I might’ve missed the way he sucks in a quick little breath. But the man who is always in control holds on to his composure and says, "We’re going to work on everything. I want you to have everything.”
“Good.” I’m totally distracted by the hardness against me. “That’s really good.”
The corner of his mouth curls up in a sexy little smile as I press against him again.
“Do you want to tell me about your therapy? I want to know how far along in the process you are.”
Right. He did some reading.
“It’s going really well. I’ve been using dilators.” I pause. “Do you know what those are?”
“I have a general idea.”
“So they’re for stretching. To help with p-pe-penetration.” I trip on that word, and I hate it. “Penetration,” I say loud and firm.
He grins. “Good.”
I am determined to be fully upfront, not embarrassed, not awkward about this at all. Of all the people I need to talk to frankly about this, he and Thea are pretty much tied. He probably comes in slightly ahead of her, in fact.
I clear my throat and force myself to meet his gaze.
“The dilators are to help me work on pain-free penetration,” I say clearly.
“And I am able to use the biggest one without pain now. I work up to it a little bit with some massage and some really good fantasies about you. Your fingers, your mouth, dirty talk, that kind of thing. I use a little buzzing vibrator on my clit. I usually have an orgasm first. Then I work on massage and inserting the dilator.”
Declan is staring down at me, breathing a little faster now. I can feel that his fingers have curled into my lower back and my hair a little tighter. He is holding himself very tensely. I feel like the temperature around us has climbed at least twenty degrees, but he hasn’t dropped my gaze.
When he realizes I am done with my recitation, he takes a deep breath.
“That’s all great,” he says, his voice sounding a little tight. “I’m really proud of you.”
I swallow. Wow. That hit me hard. And his praise makes me even hotter. “Thank you.”
“I’m also so glad that you stole my shirt.”
I smile. “I’m glad you’re not upset about that.”
“I am also really fucking…” He shakes his head. “Conflicted.”
My brows arch. “Conflicted?”
“We’re being totally honest here, right?”
“Obviously.”
“I know that we are talking about pain, and a medical condition, and physical therapy. And some mental therapy that went along with it.”
I press my lips together and give him a little nod.
“But I’m also really fucking turned on right now knowing that you used my shirt and body wash and fantasies about me. The idea that I was kind of there, helping you, is…definitely a turn-on and that’s maybe inappropriate.”
I blow out a relieved breath. “No, don’t feel bad about that. I’m glad.”
“Really?” He asks, still looking concerned.
“Yeah, I mean the idea of me touching myself and making myself come should turn you on, right?”
His shoulders sag, and he nods. “It really, really fucking does.”
I laugh, feeling lighter, relief flowing through me. “Good. The idea of you doing those things definitely turns me on.”
His fingers flex against me again. “Good.”
We stand just staring at each other for a moment, then he says, “So you’re not sure how this is going to go. Which is fine. Can I ask how long it’s been since you had sex with another person?”
“Of course, you can ask that. It’s been years. I tried it about a year after my injury, and it was horrible. He was really nice about it, but in addition to the pain, the fact that I couldn’t do it was pretty traumatic. So, it’s been at least five years.”
He’s staring at me. Then he brings me against his chest, hugging me. I feel his lips against the top of my head. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all of this.”
That makes tears prick at the back of my eyelids, and I allow myself to hug him back.
“Thank you.”
The hug goes on for nearly a minute before I finally pull back and look up. “I think things are about to get a lot better.”
“They are,” he says, promise heavy in his words.
“No pressure,” I say, giving him a little smile.
“I am very good under pressure,” he tells me, not letting me lighten the moment.
I take a deep breath. “I am really glad about that.”
“We’ll take it slow. How about we just play around a little bit to start?”
There’s a glint in his eyes now that I’ve never seen before, and a sliver of heat snakes through me from my chest to my pussy, my inner muscles fluttering. “Okay. What do you mean?”
“Well, we both just said that the idea of watching the other play with themselves and come was really exciting.”
I nod, catching on to what he’s saying.
“And we both need to have an idea of how I compare to that biggest dilator.”
I cough out a laugh, surprised. “That’s true. Need to know what I’m getting into.”
His smile is the biggest I’ve seen, and this sense of playfulness from him is unexpected and thrilling at the same time.
“Where would be the best place for this? Bedroom? Or is that too intimidating? Too much pressure?” he asks.
“Bedroom would be great,” I say. “That’s where I’ve been fantasizing about you all this time. I’d love to have you there for real.”
He steps back, then holds his hand. “Let’s go have some fun, Mrs. O’Grady.”
And oh hell, that Mrs. O’Grady also really works.
I put my hand in his, and he starts to tug me in the direction of the bedroom, but then he looks at me and says, “Ah, fuck it.”
Then he bends and throws me over his shoulder.