Chapter 16 #3
Through my eyes, I beg, Please don’t go into that room. Please stay with me. I say, “Can you massage my stomach? It sometimes helps.” Say yes. Please say yes.
Melek scoops me up on a yelp. Unable to take the commander out of the man, he locks the door behind us before walking swiftly towards our bedroom. Crisis averted. I sink further into him.
In our room, he gently places me on my feet, instructing me to raise my arms. Lifting the hem of my nightdress, he pulls it over my head, revealing mostly bare skin underneath, except for my underwear.
Seeing how his mood darkens, I warn him, “Don’t get any ideas. I need your hands, not your cock, right now.”
One side of his mouth lifts in a sneer. A flash of needy heat alights my core at the sight of this tall, muscular man—my husband—wanting to claim me. Continuing to play the part, I rub the imaginary pain in my sternum.
Pulling himself out of a daze, he steps back and scrubs at his chin, taking me in. “Sorry. I cannot help my default response at seeing you naked.” He’s apologised to me twice tonight. This is unprecedented behaviour.
I lean back on our bed. “Your default response being savage beast?”
His eyes light up. “Yes, well…” My husband licks his lips and hunts me down with increasing intensity. “It’s hard for me to concentrate when…” As he leans over the bed, fully clothed in his black business attire, I melt.
“When what?” My fingers dig into the sheets beneath me, keeping my body still.
“When I have the most beautiful woman in all of the worlds in my bed every night, and I get to call her my wife.” There goes my stupid heart again—erratic, uncharted territory. It’s frightening in the most exhilarating way.
I hurt for real this time, rubbing just underneath my breasts, fully exposed to every inch of him.
Pushing my hand aside, he begins his job of massaging me.
Why is this bastard making all these earth-rocking declarations tonight?
If I kneed him in the dick, surely, that’d make me feel better, less heartbreakingly sappy.
Most likely, that’ll earn me a spanking. Not the worst idea I’ve had.
Maybe he can feel the separation I need between us to leave with the fae? Anything on his end would be purely a hunch, though. Right?
Broad firm strokes dig at my knots and taut tendons.
I languish in his capable hold. Of course, his massages are exceptional.
He plays every part of me like he’s done it a million times before.
This man is always one step ahead. He can sense things before I need them.
It’s always been this carnal dance with us.
He curves his hands around my breasts, avoiding my tender nipples on purpose.
I almost beg him to go back. Up, up, up.
Just a little bit higher. Instead, he moves down, gliding calloused fighting hands over my extended stomach.
With my eyes automatically closing, I hear his gruff cadence, warm breath lingering over my skin. “Be gentle with your mama, Phoenix.”
Damn him. Why can’t he go back to the Melek of before, ignoring me except for our nightly bedroom brawl?
Desperate to hold back tears, I bite my tongue.
He didn’t just call our baby Phoenix. He didn’t do that.
It was my imagination. Kissing the stretch marks crawling up the sides of my stomach, our baby kicks him square in the face.
I smile through the bubbling of suffering.
Finally. Someone else who is sick of Melek’s shit.
“You’re right. It’s a girl.” He scoots his body next to mine, lying down on his side, so he can continue prodding at our baby, who is more active than I’ve ever felt her.
“How do you figure that?”
“She’s as feisty as her mother.”
“Huh, and what are the men in this family like, then?”
Bringing his face dangerously close to mine, he hovers. So close to touching. “The men in this family are all enamoured with the women in this family.”
I can’t breathe. Give me strength. At my throat closing up, plush, warm lips meet mine tentatively. Forgetting about my game and that he’s the enemy of my salvation, I throw myself at Melek, grappling with his hair so I can push him further into our passion, ravenous for him.
Control isn’t something he gives freely. Extracting my fingers from his hair with brute force, he pins them against the glossy material at my back. “What about your pain?” he questions.
Moving my head closer to his, but still trapped by his hands holding mine down, I buck, whimpering breathlessly. “You fixed me. I’m all better.”
Just kiss me already.
He tilts his head, appraising me. “Just like that?”
“Yes, husband. You’ve got magic hands, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Now fuck me already.” That earns me a devilish smile and a smack on the hip, as close to my ass as he can get.
Unburdened, my husband doesn’t hold back, consuming every part of me, giving me every roughened part of him, and in all honesty, the old Melek is a familiarity I never thought I’d miss.
This new, softer Melek who speaks his feelings is making me question every decision I’m about to make to leave him.
I’m untethered in this new contest.