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“You got it. I will start looking into it now.”
“Thank you man. I owe you.” He looks at me like I am crazy.
“You owe me nothing. If someone had hurt my Miriam, I would be out for blood, so I get it. I will get back to you as soon as I can.”
When I woke up this morning, she was still asleep. She looked so peaceful, serene even. I could see the weight she had been holding on her shoulders is not there when she is not awake. Her soft pink cheeks are so lovely, leading to those rosy lips I keep wanting to taste. After having breakfast together, I went into the office.
I worked late tonight due to a sick baby with an ear infection. I called her to let her know what time I would be home. Now, I am pulling into the driveway, unsure of what I will walk into but eager to see her beautiful face and that fiery red hair. Turning my key in the lock. I open the door, and the smell of something delicious hits my nose. “Honey, I’m home,” I say as half a joke and half in my heart. I have always wanted to have a reason to say that. When I enter the kitchen, she stands by the table, wringing her hands. “Something smells amazing,” I say, dropping my key in the glass bowl.
“I-I didn’t know what you liked, so I figured chicken was a safe bet.” I smile and nod, but before I can say chicken is great, she begins to backpedal. “If chicken doesn’t work, I can make you anything you like.” She spits the words out so quickly, like she is scared of something. I move toward her to assure her it is okay, but before I am close enough to touch her hand, she recoils back and begins to cry. “Please. I’m sorry. Please, I won’t do it again.”
I watch her for a moment, my eyes blurring with rage. “Red, look at me.” The nickname for her that I use in my head slips out before I can stop it. Her red, teary eyes lift to mine, and my heart clenches for the pain she is holding inside of her. “I am never going to hurt you. Never. I know we don’t know one another, and it will take time for you to trust me, but if nothing else, I want you to hold on to that. I will never lay my hand to you. Now, please stop crying because it is killing me to see tears running down your face. You were made to shine, Red, so tears are not allowed. Alright?’” She looks at me a moment before smirking and nodding her head. I watch her clean the offending tears from her face.
“Thank you.” She says softly, her cheeks now blush red.
“Always. Now, let’s sit and eat this wonderful meal you have prepared.” I begin making my plate and notice she is not. “Are you not going to eat?”
“Yes of course. I have to wait for you to eat first.” Something in me snaps, but I rein it in, not wanting to scare her. What the fuck? What dead asshole has been hurting her?”
“Florence, you do not have to wait for me to eat. That is an archaic tradition that no longer exists, thank God. You are my equal. My partner. My wife. You bow to no one and acquiesce to no one. Do you understand what I am saying?” With wide eyes, she looks at me like she can’t believe what I am saying, but when she nods, I take a deep breath. “Good. Now let’s eat.”
Dinner is quiet but not tense. I haven’t stopped staring at her since we sat down. She is like a red-headed nymph, and the thing is, I am positive she doesn’t know her appeal. There is something soft about her, but behind the softness and the meekness is a strength waiting for her to recognize its place within her.
Throughout dinner, I catch her taking little glances at me, but she drops her gaze again when she realizes I am already looking at her. Once everything is done, I put the dishes in the sink and let her know she can relax. Once she is no longer in the vicinity, I release the breath I have been holding to make my ire at her past.
If it is the last thing I do, I am going to find him and end him in the name of my wife.
ChapterThree
Florence
The Next Morning
Once again, I made a fool out of myself. Fletcher has given me no reason to think he’d ever hurt me, but I can’t help my reaction. It’s ingrained in me. This morning, he’s still in bed beside me. The blanket is slung low on his hips, and I can see the edge of the black boxer briefs he climbed into bed in. He looks younger in his sleep but no less hot than he does during the day. This close, I can see his muscles have muscles. His six-pack abs are begging me to touch them. With one last look at his face to ensure he’s still sleeping, I reach out and touch his skin. It’s hotter than I thought it would be. I lightly trail my fingers over his skin, touching him anywhere I can. When I notice the blanket tenting at his crotch, my curiosity gets the best of me. I drag my hand down when he suddenly snakes his hand out and catches my wrist. I gasp and tense up but breathe easier when I realize that his touch is light, and he’s merely stopping me from touching his cock.
“Good morning, wife,” he growls.
“Morning, husband,” I whisper as his thumb rubs tiny circles over my wrist. It’s insane that the tiny touch sends unprecedented heat to my core. I squirm beside him.
“Don’t start something you’re not ready for me to finish,” he says, his voice low.
“Maybe I’m ready,” I say, unsure if I mean it.
“No, you’re not, and that’s alright. I’ll never pressure you for something you don’t want to give me.”
“Promise?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely, but I know you’ll be begging me for my cock soon enough.”
“You seem sure of yourself,” I tell him. Normally, this kind of cockiness would rub me the wrong way, but right now it’s rubbing me the right way.
“It’s inevitable, Red.”
I know he’s right. I want this man, my husband, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.
“I know,” I say when he lets my wrist go. I continue touching his chest but don’t dare go lower again. “Is this okay?” My whisper is soft and out of place since we are alone. I feel so tentative around him and I really don’t want to.
“Fuck, Florence, you can touch me whenever and wherever you want to,” he groans which makes me smile. I love the effect I have on him.
