Chapter 44 My Woman. My Wife
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
My Woman. My Wife
HENRY
“Tell me about Andrei,” I asked.
We were clean and clothed and had climbed back into her bed. I thought that maybe enough time—and enough orgasms—had passed since I’d found her screaming that she might be ready to open up about him. “Not just what happened at the end, but from the beginning.”
She let out a shuddery sigh. “It’s not a very happy story.”
I wrapped her tighter in the circle of my arms. I had a feeling there was not much at all that was happy about her upbringing, and my chest ached for the girl she’d been and how it had shaped her into a woman who believed that sharing her pain was selfish.
“I’m here, Catnip. We can shoulder the heavy things together. Besides, you loved him. And I want to know about the things you love.”
“Okay,” she agreed shakily, and with a deep breath, she talked. About the tiny baby who had arrived the same time her mother had left her. The little boy who had at once been so terribly smart and so wildly intense.
She really had loved him. More than she’d loved her father, who she’d barely known when he died.
More than her mother, who abandoned her daughter in her grief and depression, self-medicating with narcotics rather than supporting her child.
More than her cousin, Stefan, who had been the most constant relationship in her life, until she moved to Australia.
“He deserved so much better. He deserved a sister who cared enough to protect him,” she mumbled when her story came to an end.
Her tears dripped onto my arm, and I was caught between wishing I hadn’t asked, hadn’t made her relive this pain, and a feeling of intense pride that she trusted me enough to share.
“You did protect him, so many times,” I countered, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You advocated for him when you were barely older than him yourself, and when no adults were doing so. You showed him more care and compassion than all the other people in his life combined.”
“But that night, I prioritised my own needs over his,” she argued, sniffling. “And he died.”
“What happened to him was not your fault, Ri. And you shouldn’t hold your child-self responsible for the evil deeds of the adults around you.” Adults who had failed her on so many levels, over and over again.
“I know,” she mumbled, nestling in closer to me. “Deep down, I know you’re right. But it’s hard not to blame myself when I knew I was the only one who would help him, and I didn’t.”
I thought about a little girl version of Ri, cowering in her bed when she heard the footsteps of her uncle, paralysed with fear that he was coming for her, and the surge of protectiveness that overcame me almost stole my breath. I tightened my arms around her.
“At what point do you get to help yourself, Catnip?” I asked, voice rough with emotion. “When do you get to prioritise your wellbeing? When do you get to feel safe?”
She lifted her head, resting her chin on my chest, eyes glistening but no longer shedding tears. “I do feel safe. When I’m here with you … like this. I don’t think I’ve ever really understood what safe felt like … before you.”
I opened my mouth, but no words could make their way out past the expanding heat in my chest.
“Why do you call me Catnip?” she asked suddenly. “I mean, is there a reason, aside from the obvious?”
I was grateful for the sudden change of subject, even as my brain scrambled to switch gears.
“Well,” I began, smiling wryly as I remembered the first time I’d thought of her as such. “It was actually Abernathy that inspired me, more than The Hunger Games. He was so drawn to you … the way a cat is drawn to catnip.”
“So … you let your cat nickname me?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. My face warmed.
“Let’s be honest; Abernathy is yours now. The cat distribution system works in unusual ways. But I very quickly realised that you weren’t just enticing to him … you were to me, as well.”
A pink flush stained her cheeks, and I swiped my thumb over it with a grin. “I’m getting better at making you blush, Catnip.”
She smiled wryly. “When you talk like that about me—to me—I can barely think straight. My brain turns to soup, and I just want to …”
She braced herself on the bed and pushed up to mould her mouth to mine.
I wasn’t about to complain that she hadn’t finished her sentence, because in the months since we’d first met, I’d missed so many opportunities to kiss her.
Not in the performative, public spaces, but in quiet, private moments.
And now I wasn’t going to deny myself the joy of her lips.
It was a sweet, gentle kiss, and even as her mouth moved against mine, she made no move to turn it into something more. I met her energy, needing to feel this softness with her, this sweetness and affection, as much as I’d needed the hungry kisses we’d shared earlier.
I wanted all the different kinds of kisses with this woman.
Even the ones where she broke away to yawn, and my heart lurched with joy because I didn’t have to leave the bed. Because the rule no longer applied.
We probably needed to discuss what that meant, but as I reached over and switched off Ri’s light and tugged her into my arms under the covers, I decided that it was a conversation that future Henry could worry about.
Right now, I was going to hold her as we both fell asleep.
I awoke to a warm backside tucked against my groin and soft snores still emitting from the woman it belonged to.
My woman. My wife.
I basked in that thought, in the heat of her body, in the dim light that filtered through the blinds. Her hair was a curtain of silk, and I ran my fingers through it.
The last time I’d woken up in a bed with her, I’d panicked and slipped away, making myself a coffee and pondering the stupidity of my actions.
Because if I’d thought it was hard to stay professionally distant around her before I’d been inside her, it had become a thousand times worse the morning after the first utterly life-changing sex I’d ever experienced.
I smiled, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling the summer scent of her. There was no need for panic now. No need to pretend this wasn’t exactly where I wanted to wake up. This morning … and every morning.
Although, perhaps admitting I had fantasies of forever might be a little premature?
I didn’t want to scare her off, didn’t want her to feel like I’d engineered this outcome from the start.
She’d had enough experience with a manipulative partner in the past, the last thing I wanted was to make her feel trapped.
She stirred in my arms, wiggling against me. I let out a soft, tortured sound, and she rolled over, rubbing her eyes and grinning lazily at me.
“Morning, Hubby.” Her voice was adorably rough. “The insanity wasn’t just temporary then?”
My brow furrowed. “Insanity?”
She shrugged, reaching to lock her hands behind my neck. “I heard you, the morning after last time, telling Lucian that sleeping with me was ‘temporary insanity’.”
I studied her sleepy face, searching for a sign of how she felt about what she’d just said. Her lips were slightly thinner than they’d been a moment ago, and there was something in her eyes. Wariness, I thought …
I realised that I knew her well enough to be able to read those subtleties in her face, and my heart thrummed with rightness as my mouth stretched into a goofy smile.
“I called it temporary insanity that morning because it was crazy that I’d convinced myself that just one night with you would be enough for me.”
And there was the little flush inching across her face. My grin widened as her hands slid down, toying with the neckline of my T-shirt.
“So … how many nights do you think you’ll need then?” she asked tentatively.
All of them.
I swallowed, knowing that if the words on the tip of my tongue slipped out, I might just ruin this tentative rule-free version of us before we’d had a chance to explore it.
“You don’t need to answer that,” she muttered, her hands falling away. Heart lurching, I captured them, pressing them against my chest where my heart drummed a nervous rhythm.
“I’m scared,” I confessed. Her eyebrows shot up, but I stumbled onwards before I could lose my nerve. “I’m worried that the truth will frighten you off, Catnip.”
Her expression relaxed, and a cheeky little smile played at the edges of her mouth. “At the risk of scaring you off, I don’t think I can count high enough to tell you how many nights I need with you.”
I lifted her hand to my lips, kissing her palm. “Let’s not count then, and just …”
“Just?” she prompted, snuggling closer, brushing against my groin and making me suck in a breath.
“Just this.” I found her mouth, circling my hands around her waist and tugging her over me until her knees were either side of my hips, and the heat of her was pressed exactly where I needed it. My dick jerked, and she hissed, breaking away from my mouth.
“Always so ready for me,” she crooned, tugging my T-shirt up, raking her nails over my abs. I shuddered with the intense pleasure of that sensation.
“Ready for you to do what, exactly?” I grated as she rocked herself over me, lifting her pyjama top off and tossing it aside. Blood surged to my groin at the sight of her perfect breasts.
“To bounce on your boner, of course,” she purred, and my chuckle immediately turned to a groan when she lifted herself away from me, expertly slipping out of her pants, then tugging mine down just enough that my dick sprang free.
And then she was over me, gloving me in that tight, slippery heat.
“Fuck,” I cursed, gripping her hips.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say that.” She wriggled, taking me deeper, and I slid my palms up her belly to cup her tits.
“It’s the only word that seems appropriate when you’re on top of me, and I can play with the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.” I pinched her nipples gently, delighting in the mewling sound she made and the gush of wet heat that slid her all the way onto me.
“I love feeling you so deep in me,” she whispered, rolling her hips and sending zings of pleasure shooting outwards from where our bodies joined.
“I think you love this too.” I pinched harder, and she bit down on her lip. Her pupils expanded, turning those sea-blue eyes inky. I grinned, soothing them with the pads of my thumbs. “I think you’ll come with me working these tight little nipples, and you’ll soak my cock with your orgasm.”
The flush that spread down her face, onto her chest, turning her breasts rosy had heat blossoming in my balls. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold my orgasm at bay.
“Keep talking dirty to me, Hubby,” she pleaded, tilting her hips in a way that had her crying out, and me aching to explode inside her.
Not until she comes.
“I need to feel that tight little pussy squeezing me, Catnip. And when I do, I’m going to come in you so hard it will still be dripping out of you when I fuck you again tonight.”
“Henry … oh … o Doamne!” She arched her back, and as she started clenching around me, my eyes flew to her pussy, watching as she soaked the base of me with her orgasm.
I followed her with a roar and a rush of blinding pleasure as I released her nipples and snatched her waist, pumping myself into her over and over again until I was empty.
And my heart was full.