CHAPTER 12
ROOK
“I was going to cook you breakfast,” my voice sounds wrecked.
Embarrassment is crawling up my throat. I can’t believe my wife, my brand-new fucking wife, witnessed the stain on humanity that is my father. As much as I wish she hadn’t heard him, I was more than willing to use the strength having her near me gave me.
I should have known he was going to show up again. He loves hurting me and then prolonging it.
My eyes drop to the worn wood of the porch. I can’t look at her. I don’t want her to see my shame.
“Rook,” her voice is gentle, like she thinks I’m about to shatter. She wouldn’t be wrong. “Come on,” she starts to lead me back into the house and I let her.
I take a deep breath when the door closes behind us and some of the tension leeches out of my body. Meadow doesn’t stop there; she helps me into the living room until I sink down onto the couch.
Fear whispers in my mind. She’s going to put distance between us. She won’t want to be near me now that she’s seen the man who fathered me.
But she doesn’t run.
My Wildflower shocks the fuck out of me and straddles my lap, her arms wrapping around my neck before her fingers start playing with the short hairs at the nape of my neck. I’m sure I look surprised as fuck as I stare at her with my mouth hanging open slightly.
As she looks at me, she tilts her head to the side and asks, “Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because you should be running from me,” the words, true as they are, slip from my lips involuntarily. I swallow hard and take in the confusion written all over her face. “I’m my father’s son, and he’s an asshole of the highest order. You should want to put as much distance between us as possible.”
Something fierce fills her expression, like she’s about to step onto the battlefield and isn’t afraid, because righteousness is on her side. “I never want to hear you say anything like that again, Rook Sherman. Do you hear me?”
The only thing I can do is nod slowly and swallow hard. She’s not done; I can see she’s just getting started. Inside I brace myself for whatever words she’ll say next.
“You are not your father’s son,” she bites out, anger simmering in every word.
But I know her anger isn’t directed at me.
“You are your grandfather’s grandson. He’s the man who raised you.
He’s the man whose example you have been following your entire life, at least the time that matters.
He’s the one who was here for you. He’s the man that gave you a home, a farm, stability, and a dream.
He’s the one who wrapped up his legacy in his hope for your future, and you haven’t disparaged him once for it. ”
My eyes slide closed, her words smoothing something in me that I didn’t even realize was jagged. How long has it been slicing through me? How long would I have continued to carry it around if my wife hadn’t gotten to it first?
My forehead presses against hers and her hands are warm on the back of my neck. She wraps herself around me, giving me comfort and forcing me to absorb it.
“I don’t deserve you,” I rasp the words, feeling the truth of them land somewhere in my soul.
“What you don’t deserve is a father like that who would dare to speak to you, to anyone, the way he did.
He’s a horrible person.” She pulls back enough for me to look into her blue eyes.
“I’m so damn happy I married you, Rook. The thought of him touching any part of this farm, any part of your family’s legacy, makes me feel like a rage demon with no outlet. ”
I can’t help but grin at the visual she just painted. As much as I never want her to be put in a situation to feel that way, and I certainly never want to be on the receiving end of her anger, I find it incredibly sexy.
“You’re the most beautiful rage demon I’ve ever seen,” my voice is soft as I look at her, feeling the love I have for my woman, for my wife, fill my chest.
My head falls down to rest on her shoulder and for a few moments, we just breathe together.
I feel it all—the disappointment, the anger, the fear.
It’s the way I always feel after my dad shows up and disappears again.
It’s happened so many times over the years that I expected to be numb to it years ago, but it never happened.
Maybe it never will.
Or maybe I just need to come to terms with the fact that he’s not my family. No, the only family I have now is the beautiful woman in my lap.
“Wife,” I whisper the endearment and she tightens her grip on me as if she can hold me together by sheer will alone.
It feels like she can.
Her stomach growls and she freezes in place. When I pull back and look at her, her cheeks are turning a pretty pink color. I love the way she blushes for me.
I love her.
But I keep the words locked behind my teeth. For now.
The last thing I want is for me to tell her how I feel about her on the heels of that man showing up. I don’t want the moment to be tainted; it should be pure. She shouldn’t question if my confession is a reaction to his vindictive, hateful words.
“I was going to make you breakfast,” I say it again, but this time my tone sounds like it’s been patched back together.
“How about I make breakfast?” She glances toward the kitchen and something giddy crosses her face. “I need to get used to this kitchen and I love to cook.”
Before I can argue with her and insist on taking care of her, especially after the attention and comfort she’s given me this morning already, she jumps off my lap and is heading toward the kitchen. I reach for her but only touch air.
I lean my head back against the couch and take a deep breath.
The scene on the front porch fades slightly, not in a way that makes it disappear, but the edges soften as it falls into a memory.
I’d rather it feel like something distant, even though adrenaline is still making my heart pound in my chest.
As the reality of hearing Meadow moving through the kitchen sinks in, I stand up slowly and move toward her. I can feel the pull of her, the need to be near her, tugging me forward.
My eyes lock on her and the way she’s poking around the kitchen, searching for things and orienting herself. She moves effortlessly through the room with an ease that has more of the tension from this morning falling away.
It started out perfectly. I woke up with my wife in my arms, and she fitted against me like she was always made to be there. Because she was.
As much as I wanted to stay wrapped up with my wife, I wanted her to be able to sleep in, and my dick was trying to get me to wake her up.
That’s when I slid out of bed, pulled on some sweats and a shirt and padded toward the kitchen.
I was making a plan for breakfast; one I could imagine serving to my wife in bed—our first morning as a married couple—when I heard my father’s car pull up.
And then the morning went sideways.
Meadow looks at home in the kitchen, like she’s been moving through it for years instead of minutes. The longer I watch her, the more I need her.
I should let her eat.
But the need takes over.
When I step up behind her, my hands find her hips easily. She stills and looks over her shoulder at me while mischief dances in her blue eyes.
“This kitchen is a dream,” there’s reverence in her voice. “I was thinking about baking something, but I’ll do it later.”
“Much later,” my voice is rough with desire I don’t even try to contain.
Her mouth tips up in a smile which is seductive and coy at the same time. And it causes something to snap inside of me. My hands glide up the outside of her thighs until I reach the hem of my shirt.
And fuck, my shirt looks damn good on her.
When she first stepped out onto the porch, I was pissed about anyone except me being given the opportunity to see her barely dressed. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell her to go back inside and put clothes on. Not in front of my father.
Fuck no.
I bunch my shirt up around her waist and look down and take in her bare ass. It’s plump and perfectly round. And begging for my touch.
“Naughty Wildflower,” I groan. “No panties.”
“I was on a mission to find my husband, not my panties,” she sasses which causes my cock to throb and leak pre-cum.
I growl and press a hand in between her shoulder blades until she’s laid out across the counter in front of me while my other hand roams over the globes of her ass. I squeeze her flesh and she lets out a soft moan that goes right to my balls.
There’s no way I’ll be able to wait to bury myself inside of her.
With my t-shirt pushed up her back, I slide my sweats down just enough for my dick to spring free. Meadow’s blue eyes find mine, her head twisted around to look at me.
She’s already soaked for me. I can see her arousal glistening on the lips of her pussy.
Without warning I drop down on my haunches and slide my tongue along her slit while stroking my cock. A growl rumbles from my chest, as her taste hits my tongue. She pushes back against me, and I grip her hips to hold her in place.
I lap at her before spearing her opening while seeking more of her taste. The moan that comes out of her is downright sinful.
It’s music to my fucking ears.
When I stand up, I grip the base of my cock and run the tip up and down her soaked slit. My breathing turns ragged while she moves against the hold that I have on one of her hips and tries to push back against me.
It’s almost too much.
The heat of her.
The need she has for me.
The way my cock twitches and begs to be buried inside my wife.
The crown of my cock notches at her entrance and I push inside of her pussy slowly. My jaw clenches as I hiss out a breath.
“Fucking tight and hot,” I grunt, my cock filling her to the hilt.
“Rook,” she moans, her back arching as her body opens up for me. “Please, don’t tease me.”
“I’ve got you,” I rasp the words.
My fingers tighten on her hip, holding her in place, while my other hand grips her hair and wraps it around my fist. We freeze for a moment and know the picture that we make together is sexy as hell.
And then I start to move. I pull back slowly before slamming home inside of her. My thrusts start out measured and slow, but the way she feels has me moving faster.
I fuck her hard and fast, loving the way her mouth falls open as she mewls out her pleasure. As much as I want this to last, I’m chasing something more than our mutual pleasure.
My need to erase this morning and obliterate that man showing up here, and tainting our first morning together as husband and wife, is driving me. As my movements turn rougher, my wife takes it all in stride. Pleasure washes over her features as I hold her right where I want her.
I lean over her, my ear brushing her earlobe as I growl, “I’ll never let him near you. You’re mine.” I bark, “Say it.”
Her voice is a breathy moan, “I’m yours, husband.”
My balls draw up and a tingle races up my back. Thankfully, she cries out, her body locking up while the walls of her pussy squeeze me tightly, as her orgasm washes over her.
With her milking my cock, her body begging for my cum, I let go. “Meadow,” I whisper her name with reverence as I bury myself inside of her as deeply as I can.
As I come, relief and certainty hit my chest.
I’ll protect this woman until my last breath.
I’ll love her with everything I am and never allow my father’s bullshit to touch her.
She deserves it and so much more. I’ll make sure she is cherished and never knows a day without love, comfort, happiness, and affection.
We’ll build a life worth living and then revel in the bounty of it all.