Whitney
“They hate each other,” I complain as I watch Simon’s tail swish on the floor.
Puff Daddy stares down at my cat from the curtain rod, so high up that his head brushes the ceiling.
“They’re just getting to know each other,” Wren assures me.
“Go away, demon spawn!” He’s so loud, I’m certain the neighbors can hear him.
Simon’s only response is a guttural growl from deep in his throat.
“Plus, Puff is a complete asshole. He tortures that damn cat. He deserves what he gets.”
“You say that now,” I turn in the circle of Wren’s arms and press a kiss to his stubbly jaw, “but I have the feeling you’ll be very upset if my cat eats your bird.”
“Simon doesn’t have a chance at catching him. He’s too fat.”
“Hardly fat,” I argue, pulling back so he can see the disdain on my face.
“Obese. Isn’t that the word the lady at the pet hotel used?”
I scoff. “Neutered cats are fat. It’s science.”
“I can agree with that.” He smiles down at me, not allowing me to pull fully away from him. Honestly, I don’t want to go anywhere. In his arms is the only place I want to be.
“Are you sore?”
“No,” I whisper into his chest.
“I rode you pretty hard this morning.”
God, did he. For a second, I thought he was going to shove me all the way through the mattress.
“I survived.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Your handprint stayed on my ass for over an hour,” I remind him.
“You came before I gave you permission. You know the rules.”
We’ve lined out many more things since we returned from California yesterday, going over a detailed list of kinks we found online, some I hadn’t even considered. We haven’t made any real plans about our future, but we decided that whatever it is, we want to do it together.
“I’m going to make lunch,” he says with his lips pressed to the top of my head.
I give a final squeeze and step back. As much as I’d like to take this conversation to the bedroom, I’m starving and he promised his nana’s favorite lasagna and garlic bread.
I busy myself with making the bed—because it’s so much fun to mess up again—while Wren works in the kitchen. Simon howls in the living room, while Puff screams obscenities at him.
Is this what bliss is like? It feels like it.
The doorbell chimes, which is weird because I didn’t hear the intercom announce anyone. That means that it’s someone who has access to this floor because without a keycard, no one can get up here.
I walk toward the front door, a smile on my face, telling the animals to calm down.
“Absolutely not,” I hear from the other side. “There’s no way to defend his actions. He stalked that poor girl for months. I’m not letting him off the hook this tim—”
I open the door, finding Deacon Black’s piercing blue eyes assessing mine. Anna, his gorgeous wife, tugs on his sleeve, trying to get his attention.
“Calm down,” she urges, but Deacon’s jaw ticks.
“Hello,” I squeak, my hands automatically going to the hem of Wren’s shirt.
I’ve had it on all morning, and although he admitted to not wearing button-downs often, it came in mighty handy this morning during a scene. Who knew naughty schoolgirl and filthy principal was a thing?
“Whitney. Lovely to see you again.”
I know his name because I attended his wedding, but I left before we were officially introduced. With what Wren has told me about getting the box and Deacon’s unhappiness about how he was handling the situation concerning me, it’s not a surprise the man knows who I am.
“Who’s at the do—oh fuck.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see Wren standing several feet away with a knife. Garlic butter is smeared down the edge, proving that he was using it to cook with, but he’s now gripping it like he may have to use it as a weapon.
“Put down the knife, Wren.” Even I step to the side at Deacon’s command.
“I’d rather keep it,” Wren answers, his throat working on a swallow.
I inch closer to Wren, but inside I’m doing backflips. I’d bitched to Sarah about the men of BBS possibly being involved with hurting women, and it makes me happy that Deacon isn’t the type of man to let that kind of stuff happen in his business. He was discouraging Wren’s action before I opened the door.
Wren shifts the knife from one hand to the other so he can wrap his arm around my waist. Anna smiles at us, and I can tell she’s trying to keep her cool when it looks like she wants to clap her hands and jump up and down. She keeps her eyes off of Wren, which I’m grateful for considering that he’s only in a pair of loose sweats. The woman is totally in love with her man.
When did I turn into the possessive, jealous type?
“Are you here to give him shit for stalking me for weeks?”
Deacon’s eyes dart to mine, holding my gaze instead of wandering down to my bare thighs.
“I know everything,” I tell them both when Anna’s eyes go wide with my question. “It’s still a sore subject right now, but we’ll get through it.”
Wren’s hold on me tightens, and I feel his breath against my hair. It’s as good as an I love you, and I’m putty in his hands, despite the fact that we have company.
“This motherfucker!” Puff yells as he flies overhead, landing on the top of the mirror in the entryway.
“You sure you want to put up with both of these idiots?” Deacon asks, but I can see his irritation fading away, replaced by a sense of calm. I wouldn’t call the man happy because he’s still frowning, but the anger has left his eyes.
“Wanna fight, asshole?” Puff raises his wings as if they’re hands, but then his head snaps to the side when he notices Anna. “Hey pretty girl, wanna fuck?”
Deacon growls, but Puff isn’t deterred.
“Come to Daddy!” Puff Daddy struts his stuff on the top of the mirror, nearly falling off when he tries to turn around to strut the other way.
“That fucking bird,” Deacon hisses, “needs to learn some manners.”
“Leave that sweet baby alone.” Anna swats his chest before stepping to the side as Puff drops down to the table. Anna obliges him with scratches on the top of his head.
“Can we talk?” Wren holds me tighter, a barrier between his boss and me with Deacon’s question, but I step away.
“Stop being a pussy.” I pat his chest, press a kiss to his cheek, and walk into the living room.
Anna follows, chuckling.
“You guys are working through your problems?” Anna asks as she sits down beside me.
“Trying to,” I say, somehow not feeling uncomfortable about answering her question even though I’ve never spoken to her before today. “Not trying. We are. We’ll get through it.”
“Takes a strong woman to do something like that.”
And lots of orgasms.
“He challenges me, and I tried to do the same thing with him. I looked everywhere. Just because his firewalls are better than mine doesn’t mean what I did was any more right than what he did.”
Wren was right when he slapped me in the face with that back at the club, and it just showed me how damn hypocritical I’d been. He was right. Our connection was real no matter how we got started and fighting the inevitable just meant we’d lose time with each other. Neither one of us wanted that.
“How was your honeymoon?”
Stars fill her eyes, and we sit on the sofa together talking about her trip and how in love she is. Normally these kinds of conversations would make my skin crawl. People getting all hearts and flowers was never my thing, but an hour later when the guys emerge from Wren’s home office, and I see his smiling face, I realize hearts and flowers is exactly the life I’m living right now.
Anna stands, molding herself into Deacon’s side the second he’s within reach. We make loose plans about hanging out before they leave, and I find myself gravitating right into Wren’s side.
“Sorry to leave you alone for so long.”
“We had a good chat. I hate resorts, but she made the place they stayed at sound amazing.”
I sigh into his neck when he clings to me tighter. I can tell something isn’t right.
“You have bad news.”
I swear if Deacon Black somehow managed to talk Wren out of being with me, I’ll track him down and stomp on his toes.
“Yeah.”
I’m struck like lightning with emotions. My hands begin to tremble, and tears I thought dried up on silken sheets in California threaten to fall.
“I have to go to work.”
I pinch his side until he yelps and jumps away from me.
“I thought something terrible happened.”
He rubs at his injured side. “This is terrible. Do you not remember the things I promised to do to you after lunch?”
I bite my lip, my legs threatening to give out under me. “So many promises.”
“Do you remember the thing you said you’d do?”
His hand cups his junk, readjusting what I can only guess is the beginning of an erection. He pulls his hand away. No, make that a full flag.
“I said I’d try,” I clarify.
“Do or do not, there is no try.”
“Don’t speak Yoda to me, Wren Nelson. He wasn’t talking about anal when he said that.”
“Don’t back out now.”
I take a step back when he reaches for me. “I’m not backing out. But I said try.”
“You have your safeword,” he reminds me.
He lunges, and I squeal like a maniac when he clips me with his fingers but isn’t fast enough to catch me. Simon hisses when I run past him, and Puff Daddy is back on the curtain rod screaming like a murder is taking place in front of his eyes, but when Wren finally catches up to me, all of it fades away. Only the two of us exists, and right now, that’s exactly what I need.
“I hate that I have to leave you.” His words are whispered in my ear, his arms wrapped all the way around me.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Too long,” he mutters, his nose sweeping up the side of my neck.
I close my eyes and absorb the sensation of chill bumps as they race down my arms, sending up a silent prayer that it will always be like this with him. I need both the soft and sweet and the aggressive and dominant. It’s a lot to ask for but somehow Wren checks every single one of my boxes.
“How long?” I ask again.
He takes a step back. “Couple hours. I want you here and naked when I get back.”
“Okay,” I tell him when I turn around, but I can tell that he knows I plan on disobeying. I mean, why have rules if they aren’t meant to be broken?