Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“PEACHES (FEAT. DANIEL CAESAR & GIVEON)” BY JUSTIN BIEBER, DANIEL CAESAR, GIVēON
BLOSSOM
Anoise breaks us apart from our morning doze.
“I should go,” he whispers against my lips. “Before the kids wake up.”
I nod, part of me not wanting him to. But another part isn’t ready to share him yet.
I want to keep him, us, to myself for a little while longer.
Plus explaining this new dynamic to the kids will be tricky.
They’ve had so much instability in their lives, and I know Steele said he wasn’t going anywhere, but I can’t fully trust or believe it. Not yet anyway.
“See you at breakfast, Flower.”
Steele slips out of my bed, pulling on his joggers over his boxers, adjusting the very obvious hard on with a smirk. He looks at me, sitting in bed in his t-shirt. I go to pull it off, but he makes a noise.
“Keep it. It looks better on you, anyway.”
Then he’s walking quietly out my room.
I flop down on the bed, deliciously sore, touching all the marks he left on my body, hardly believing what happened.
With a sigh, I get out of bed and start to get ready, pausing when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The evidence of what we did last night is everywhere. My neck, shoulders, collarbones and inner thighs are covered in bite marks and hickeys, bright against my pale skin.
“Oh god, how on earth am I going to hide this?”
The next few minutes are spent trying on various outfits, the most successful being a thin turtleneck jumper and leggings with a silk scarf. Even then, if I turn my head the wrong way, one mark high on my neck peeks out.
Part of me wants everyone to see, to know that he’s claimed me. Another part wants to hide until they fade. What will the kids say if they see? Tina? The guys?
A flash of heat runs through me at the idea of the guys seeing them. Especially after what Steele said last night, about them practically going feral when they find out. And in a good way.
My cheeks heat, and not just because I’m wearing a jumper in late spring. I rush into the bathroom, splashing some cold water on my cheeks.
Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I still. My face is flushed, but my eyes. They look alive. Glowing in the early morning light.
“It was just sex, Blossom. Wild, passionate, animal sex with one of your children’s almost brothers… but still.”
After that completely unhelpful pep talk, I leave the bathroom and my room, making my way downstairs. I slip into the kitchen, tugging at the collar of my turtleneck even though it's already covering everything. I hope.
Tina looks up from the griddle, where she’s making her famous pancakes, takes one long look at me, and her lips curve into the most knowing smile I've ever seen.
Bugger.
“Morning, dearie. Sleep well?” She doesn’t even try to hide the implication that there was no way I was sleeping all night.
My cheeks flame brighter than the spring sun outside. “Fine, thank you.”
Even I don’t believe my breathy tone.
“Mmm.” She turns back to her pancakes, but I can see her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “That's a lovely jumper. Bit warm for today though, isn't it?”
“I’m fine.” I lick my dry lips.
“I’m sure you are.” Another smirk. Goddamn this woman and the horse she rode in on. “Very fine indeed, from the look of you.”
My mouth drops open. “Tina!"
She just hums, flipping a pancake with suspicious cheerfulness as the children start to filter in.
Luckily, none of them seem to notice or care that I’m wearing a jumper, busily chatting about the market yesterday and their plans for today. As it’s the last Sunday of the month, we have family day today so lots to set up and prepare.
My eyes widen.
Oh. Fucking. Hell.
My fingers flutter to my neck just as Steele enters the kitchen. His gaze finds me instantly, darting to where my hand rests against my neck, that half smile tugging up one side of his lips. Bastard.
“Morning, Flower,” he rumbles in that sinfully deep voice of his, coming to sit at the breakfast bar rather than the table. I can’t help thinking it’s because it’s where I am, getting the toppings for the pancakes and other breakfast things out.
“M-morning,” I stutter like a silly schoolgirl, that half smile of his turning into a full grin.
There’s a possessive satisfaction radiating off him that does nothing for my underwear.
Anatole and Nox arrive next, Jus following behind them talking with Sally.
They both catch sight of me, of my stupid hand that brushes the scarf again. I see the look they give Steele, then their eyes travel back to me.
Christ.
“Good morning,” I say cheerfully, a little too loudly and Steele gives a small chuckle.
“Morning, Bloom,” Anatole greets, his piercing blue eyes seeing right through me.
“Morning, Petal,” Nox adds, a single sharp brow raised.
“Juice! We need juice,” I exclaim, wanting to facepalm a moment later for how much of a twat I sound.
I grab the juice, bringing it over to the table and pouring some for Peggy. A hand brushes my lower back, a scarred arm reaching past me for the coffee pot.
“Excuse me,” Steele mumbles in my ear, and lord have mercy.
The touch is brief. Casual. Could be accidental.
Yeah fucking right.
Except the way Steele’s fingers linger just a second too long. The way his thumb strokes once against my spine before pulling away.
I nearly drop the bloody jug.
When I glance up, Anatole is watching us, his blue eyes sharp and assessing. His jaw works like he's trying to figure out a puzzle.
Gosh, why is it suddenly so hot in here?
I swing my gaze around as I straighten. Nox is leaning against the counter, pale green eyes moving between Steele and me, that too-clever brain of his clearly working overtime.
It’s then I realise we need more plates, and they are in the high cupboard next to Nox. Taking an only slightly shaking inhale, I walk over to him.
“Excuse me,” I ask as I reach up to grab the plates, realising too late that the scarf and turtleneck both shift. Just slightly. But it’s enough if the sharp intake of breath Nox lets out is any indication.
“Blossom,” Nox’s voice cuts through the breakfast chatter, even though it’s low enough that I suspect only I can hear it. It’s sharp, with something I can’t identify but makes my heart race. “What’s that on your neck?”
I freeze, hand still extended towards the cursed plates.
“N-nothing,” I say far too quickly, tugging the fabric back up.
But it’s too late. He definitely saw.
Across the kitchen Steele moves, and I watch as his lips curve into the smallest, most satisfied smile. He’s enjoying this, the bloody arsehole!
Like a magnet, I hone in on Anatole, seeing his gaze snap to my neck again, then to Steele, then back to me. Understanding dawns in those all seeing blue eyes, followed by something dark and hungry that I’m sure has nothing to do with breakfast. My stomach flips.
“It’s nothing,” I repeat, turning back to Nox. “Just…I, uh, scratched myself.”
Tina snorts into her tea across the counter. I narrow my eyes at her.
“With what?” Nox asks, pushing off the counter next to me and stalking closer. So close that his scent of rain on pavement, coconut and coffee fills my nose. “A vacuum cleaner?”
I suck my lips in at the same time Steele gives a warning rumble. “Nox.”
Nox stops, but his eyes don’t leave my neck. “So, that’s how it is.”
It’s not a question, and something in my chest squeezes at the hint of defeat in his tone. Like he expected this. Like he always expects to be the one left standing outside the door.
Luckily the rest of breakfast goes by without anyone else making any comments, but the tension that is suddenly between the three of us is thick enough to cut with a knife.
The kids all finish, helping to clear their plates then rushing off to get ready even though Family Day doesn’t start until after lunch.
I’m putting the pancake toppings back in the larder when the air behind me shifts, Anatole’s scent of cedar and coffee surrounding me.
“Bloom.”
My hand trembles as I place the syrup on the shelf, then slowly turn around to find he’s cornered me and we’re alone in the kitchen. That piece of his hair is falling over one eye again, and my hand twitches, wanting to push it back.
“Y-yes, Anatole?”
His gaze drops to my neck, even though I know the marks are hidden again. I’m frozen as he reaches out, his fingers brushing the collar and scarf aside, a shiver cascading down from his touch.
“Steele?”
There’s no point in lying. “Yes.”
His nostrils flare, and he takes a step closer, stealing the air from around us. His fingers brush over the mark, and it takes all my self control not to moan.
“And you wanted him to?”
I blink. Is that a hint of protectiveness in his tone? For me? “Yes. Very much. I…” I lick my dry lips, his eyes flicking up to catch the movement. “I enjoyed it. A lot.”
His pupils blow and I swear there really is no air left for me to breathe, even if I could.
“Good.” His voice is rough, and now it feels like the temperature has raised a few degrees. “That’s…good.”
“Is it?” I whisper, remembering what Steele said, about how his brothers would go wild when they saw the marks. His hint they’d want to leave some of their own.
“Yeah, Bloom.” For a second, a mere moment, his hand encases my throat, and my brain short circuits, but he pulls it away and I wonder if I just imagined it. “It is.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m watching his broad back as he stalks away, leaving me breathless and leaning against the doorway.