Page 54 of Heathen

The sound of his breaths combined with the warmth of his body pressed between my legs sends a shock of adrenaline-coated need right up my spine. All I can manage to do when he steps back is stare up at him as if I've never seen him before in my life.

My jaw hangs open when he adjusts himself in his sweats, the action doing nothing to hide just how his body responded to mine.

"Mornin', wife," he says with a quick wink before turning and proceeding toward the coffee pot.

Twisted chuckles, and I find him watching me now, his head shaking back and forth.

My cheeks are on fire, having a witness to what just happened, because it felt like such an intimate moment. Something that should happen behind closed doors, not right out in the open for others to see.

Maybe it's just his way of marking his territory, and I can't help but wonder just how I feel about that either. I don't exactly hate the idea, but, at the same time, I'm not exactly keen on him pissing a circle around me as if I'd even be in this situation with him and thinking about setting my sights on someone else. I'd never be so disrespectful, and it makes me wonder what he really thinks of me if that's what he believes I might do.

Although I don't exactly hate the attention I just got from Ellis, I don't think that it's something we should share with others. It brings on a certain level of expectation, and that's notwhat this marriage is about. Instead of challenging him, I busy myself with taking a drink of my coffee.

The argument in my head rages on, however.

Should I ask to speak with him in private and reiterate the rules or should I just see where all of this goes?

One kiss in the hot tub and a little grind on his manhood, and now the man is all lovey-dovey and acting like this situation is something that it isn't.

Has he told these men the truth? Do they know why we got married? Is he lying to them and telling them that we're actually in love?

Who would even believe that you could meet someone and fall in love so quickly?

A throat clearing makes me realize that my eyes are directed right at Ellis's ass as he prepares his coffee. I snap my gaze up, locking eyes with a smiling Rooster.

"Good morning," the man says as he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, like a father who just caught his teenage daughter in a compromising situation with the neighbor boy. "Did you sleep well?"

I dip my head, lying, because I could never confess the truth to anyone. I don't even know if it would be a conversation I'd feel comfortable having with Morgan after a bottle of wine. That's saying something because I can't seem to control my loose lips after a few glasses of red.

Instead of Ellis turning around to assess the situation, he sips from his coffee cup as he opens the refrigerator door, pulling a carton of eggs and other things from inside before setting about to make breakfast.

I swear when he places a plate in front of me, it shocks me as much as the little kiss and snuggle did fifteen minutes ago.

"Thank you," I whisper, trying to recall when I last had someone make me a meal without me standing at a counter and paying for it.

"You need to keep your strength up," he says with another one of those quick winks that would make my knees weak if I were standing.

The chuckle from across the kitchen makes me realize the innuendo in his comment, and that forces my eyes to narrow at him.

But instead of calling him out on it, I pick up my fork and eat.

The food is delicious, even in its simplicity, and although I can feel his eyes on me as he eats, I keep mine locked on my plate, trying to focus on not choking with every bite.

I feel like I'm somehow existing outside of this situation, as if somehow I'm watching this happen rather than experiencing it myself because it's just so far-fetched. It doesn't seem like something that my mind would even be capable of conjuring on its own.

"I was thinking we could shower after breakfast."

How my fork dropping to my plate with such a clank didn't break the dish is beyond me.

"Excuse m-me?" I sputter, covering my mouth when I see a small piece of egg fly from it.

"A shower," he says, his smile slow and knowing.

I look around the room, but we're currently the only two people in here. That speaks to my level of distraction because I don't have a clue when Twisted and Rooster left.

Instead of badgering me about it, he takes my now empty plate from in front of me and rinses it in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher.

I stare at his back as he spends a few more minutes cleaning up from our meal, including taking my empty coffee cup and putting it in the dishwasher.

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