Chapter 20 Minka #3
I’ll come down later. When I’ve had an hour to myself and my pounding headache reduces to something a little less bass-drummy, I’ll come back to the land of the living and join the chaos of a family of brothers who have no friggin’ clue how to function without shouting.
“Minka?” Cato calls out. “Hey!?”
Daniel Tiger and his neighbors were my siblings. Dora the Explorer taught me Spanish, and Swiper the sneaky fox was all the commotion I ever had to tolerate in my youth.
To go from that… to this…
Sixty minutes, that’s all I’m asking.
I climb the stairs, one flight at a time, and take comfort in knowing that even if my four-floor trek remains the same, at least this one is done in temperature-controlled comfort and without having to pass eight other apartments and whatever odd smells they’d conjured in my absence.
I emerge onto the top floor and push through my bedroom door, slamming it behind my back and dropping my bag on the floor.
Archer wanders out of the bathroom in jeans with the button undone, his belt hanging open, the zipper lowered, and his shirt… gone. Locking his eyes with mine, his lips curl into a delicious smile. “Good. I was worried you’d go to the kitchen instead and—”
“Shhh.” I stop-sign my poor husband, stunning him into silence while I toe my shoes off.
“I was going to say—”
“Nope. Shush.” I don’t plug my ears, since doing so would hurt his feelings. But I kick my shoes across the room and watch as one rolls under an armchair and the other settles upside down near our bed. Then, I start work on my buttons. “I need quiet.”
“But—”
“Stop.” I’m a monster. I’m a bitch. I know.
“Please, no talking. I’m begging you.” I peel my shirt back and toss it to the end of our bed, then I unsnap my pants and make a beeline for the bathroom.
“I just need quiet. I want a shower. And maybe a fistful of ibuprofen. We have that nice big tub in here, don’t we?
” I stumble through the bathroom doorway, my hair hanging in my eyes and an exhausted groan crawling along my throat in response to the humid air.
But then I brush the locks off my face and stop, rocking on aching legs, and reeling from the sight of the bath already full.
A light blue sizzle of color spreads through the water.
“What?”
“I was going to say, I ran you a bath.” Archer steps up behind me, resting his hand on my belly and his lips on the back of my neck.
“I figured you were at your wits’ end and needed a moment to decompress.
I walked in and heard the New York Malones doing that thing they do, and I knew you’d kill them if you had to socialize immediately.
Besides…” He feathers his lips across the side of my neck, dragging my hair aside to make room.
“We have such a cool bathroom now, I thought you’d appreciate a chance to use it. ”
“God, yes.” I drop my head back and rest it on his shoulder, closing my eyes and savoring the moment of silence.
How is it that he knows me so well?
How is it possible I found the kindest, most generous, most selfless man on the planet, and it just so happens that he loves me?
“Thank you.” I hook my hand around the back of his neck and hold him close, slowing my heart until my pulse matches his. Melting into his touch as he strokes my belly.
“Will you stay with me?”
He slides his hands into the waistband of my pants and gently pushes them over my hips. Down my thighs. He releases the fabric so they hit the floor and pool at my feet. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” I lick my lips, swallowing and lubricating my throat. “I want to be alone… but with you.”
“My favorite way of existing,” he rumbles.
“And the tub is large enough for us both. I came in here when I got home and remembered how you like to float. How water calms you, and how you didn’t get to swim yesterday like you planned to.
” He drags the tips of his fingers over my flesh, drawing goosebumps to the surface, before reaching between us and unhooking my bra with an easy flick.
“I’m not even gonna hit on you while you’re naked. ”
I close my eyes and snicker, allowing him to peel my bra away before I lean back again. “Why not? You don’t like me anymore?”
“Like you?” He nips at my earlobe, gently grazing the skin with his teeth.
“I’m obsessed with you. Toxically codependent.
” He traces my ribs and slips his fingers into the waistband of my panties so they go the way of my pants.
“You’re completely naked, and my cock rages for you.
There will never be a day when I don’t want you.
But just because I use sex as a coping mechanism doesn’t mean other people de-stress the same way.
” He wraps his arms around my torso, bear-hugging and crushing me close.
Then he starts forward, walking us toward the tub.
“I’ll fuck you later. When you’ve had time to relax. ”
I open my eyes and study the blue-filled bathtub, the fizz and sizzle of a fragrant bomb providing a sensory treat as the bubbles race toward the surface.
He takes my hand in his, pulling away to give me room to move, then he guides me into the bath, holding on while I transfer from one foot to the other and lower into the warm water.
“Not too hot,” he croons. “Not too cold.” He bends and presses a tender kiss against my temple. “Thought the color thing would feel nice on your skin.”
“The color thing.” Grinning, I lie back and glide my palms through the deep water, cupping the blue liquid and watching it drain free again. “Were you born with the ability to read my mind, Detective Malone? Or is that a skill you’ve learned and honed since that day we met at a busy airport?”
“Must be the latter.” He shoves his jeans and boxer shorts down, freeing a perpetually hard cock that springs high and slaps his belly.
But he doesn’t grab it. He doesn’t even glance down and study the thick length.
He merely steps closer to the tub and hums his appreciation when I make room behind me.
He could climb in opposite me, tangle our legs, and face each other.
He could sit and not touch me at all; there’s enough room for it.
But I want to rest against his chest. I want to lay my head on his shoulder and luxuriate in the comfort of his arms. So he steps in and lowers, framing my body with his thighs and dragging me back the very second he’s down.
He splays one hand on my belly, his thumb between my breasts, and his pinky touching my pelvic bone.
Lying here together, stripped to our skin, it’s all a reminder of how small I am compared to him. How ridiculously easy it would be for him to scare me. To overpower me. But he chooses gentleness instead. He chooses comfort and care, berating me for not being as delicate with myself as he is.
“I’ve never had the ability to read minds in the past, Minnnka.
” He drags his hand through the water, lifting it above the surface and trailing droplets over my chest. “I can’t even say I read yours.
But I know when you’re overwhelmed. I’ve learned to read the clues when you’re in complete sensory overload. ”
“Stop using those crackpot words. You don’t get to diagnose me.”
He chuckles softly in my ear. “No diagnoses. Just an observation. When you want to be touched, you lean in my direction. When you want quiet, you lean away. When we’re in a social setting and the noise is too loud, you do this thing…
” He walks his fingers between my breasts, only to surprise me by tapping the tip of my nose.
“You scrunch it. My best guess is you’re trying to close your ears without actually plugging them. ”
“I plugged them today.” I extend my legs and simply float, anchoring myself under Archer’s hand and resting my ear against the side of his neck, so his throbbing pulse becomes mine. “There were way too many people. Too much talking. Too much noise.”
“And then you came home and shushed me.” He trails his fingertips over my collarbone. “Proof I’d figured you out.”
“I like that you can read me.” I close my eyes and exhale.
“I have a bad habit of turning into a total bitch when I’m done with people.
I never learned how to communicate properly when I was like that, so instead of saying I’m overwhelmed and need a minute of quiet, I tell people to shut the fuck up. ”
He chuckles.
“It’s rude.”
“You’ve never told me to shut the fuck up. Means I’ve never quite tiptoed into the same category as everyone else.” He tilts his face just a fraction of an inch, feathering a kiss against my forehead. “You invite me in, even when you’re locking the rest of the world out. It’s humbling.”
“You act like I’m doing you a favor by needing you around.” Carefully, I twist in his arms and turn all the way over, resting my chest against his and peppering a kiss against his lips. “Like being my crutch is a fun thing to be. I know I take more than I give.”
“Not true.” He cups my face and returns my kiss with another. Deeper. Sweeter. And just a little more daring when his tongue darts forward and taps mine. “You give me you. Which is all I need.”
I reach between us and fist his cock, surprising a heavy breath from the depths of his chest. Then I draw myself higher, closer, lining us up, and slide down again, swallowing him all the way to the base.
“Maybe you weren’t going to hit on me. Being Mr. Sensitive and all that.
” I ignore the small ache in my knee and consider it the price of admission, because I get to ride his perfect body instead, groaning as he submerges his hands and holds my hips, and whimpering when he surges upwards, filling me to the brim and hitting the exact right angle to leave me breathless.
“I didn’t agree not to hit on you, though. This is how I de-stress. You are how I de-stress.”
“I’m happy to be of service.” He sets his feet on the floor and drives up to meet each roll of my hips, filling me to bursting and stealing the oxygen straight out of my lungs. “Fuck, Minka.” He nibbles on my tongue. “I will never get enough of you.”