Page 90 of Kneeling to Candy

“You did good, Goddess.”

“Why, thank you, biker boy,” I say, giving a little curtsy.

He smirks, standing in front of me. “Perhaps you would like to show me some of those moves later in bed—minus the ball punching.”

Butch’s smile is infectious, and I can’t help grinning back at him.

“Minus the ball punching,” I reiterate, with a barely suppressed giggle.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

BUTCH

Standing back and doing nothing while Candy was put through the wringer was more than most men could take. More than a few times, I had to tell myself not to intervene in her training. I’d be doing my woman a disservice if I fought these training battles for her. What good could come from me stepping in to help whenever she needed it?

We’re walking into a dangerous situation, and my woman needs to be fully prepared for whatever develops along the way.

Shit goes sideways in our line of work all the damn time. You need to be quick on the draw and fast-thinking. There are no do-overs in recovery missions.

As painful as it was to stand back, it’s what was best for my woman.

The rubber acoustic canceling tiles on the gym floor may have gotten a little worn away from my pacing the last hour of Candy’s training. But I held off stepping in until the end.

She was struggling to grasp that last lesson after having so much thrown at her in less than twenty-four hours. There wasn’t a single crew member present who wasn’t impressed with Candy’s efforts. My encouraging her in the last ten minutes of the lesson wouldn’t overshadow all her hard work accomplished.

After a hot meal, compliments of Mama Bear Holland, Candy and I went back to our suite for the evening.

Our suite.

It’s ridiculous how happy those two words make me. Having Candy living in my space and sleeping beside me each night is another step closer to revealing our nuptials.

Prior to Flay knocking on our door this afternoon, confessing the status of our relationship was on the tip of my tongue. Holding this massive secret isn’t helping my indigestion, and the conscience I thought I had very little of seems to grow by the hour the longer I keep our marriage a secret.

I set the foundation as best I could—minus the methods I used to make them happen. Candy has agreed to be my domme, to be my old lady, and we’re sharing a living quarters.

That’s progress no matter how you look at it.

Am I scared to confess we’re hitched?

You’re damn right I am.

It’s not every day you drop a bomb like marriage on the person you love prior to discussing it.

My fears aside, I’m no longer sure if telling Candy about our marriage is in her best interest, not with everything we’re currently facing regarding the trafficking case. It’s another heavy thing added to her already massive pile.

My woman is strong as hell. But how much change can one person take before they break down?

No, I can’t add any more burden on her. Not at this time. It sucks I need to carry around this boulder of a secret longer, especially when I want to scream she’s my wife and tattoo my ring finger with her name, like my other married brothers did with their wives. Yet I refuse to dump anything else on my goddess.

We have a case on the line. Her focus needs to be strictly on the assignment. The marriage talk can wait until after the mission is complete. Eight more days isn’t going to kill me—I hope.

Shaking off my worries, I focus on giving my woman all my attention.

Candy stands under the spray of the shower, her face upturned into the water coming out of the shower head. Hot water cascades down her lush body, hugging her ample curves the way I want to wrap my body around hers.

And where am I? On my knees, kneeling behind her and rubbing her sore body down with a soapy washcloth. Every once in a while, Candy releases a soft little moan of satisfaction, the kind of sound that makes my dick hard and leak with pre-come.

Finished with her backside, I take her gently by her slender hips, turning her to face me. Looking up at her from this angle, following the subtle dip of her trim waistline up toward the stiff peaks of her breasts, has my already stiff cock turning to stone. I scrub her front side, working my way up from her feet to her neck, standing slowly as I go to take in every slick inch of her.

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