Page 7 of Shelter (The Wanderers 4)

CHAPTER3

Braylon had never felt more helpless in his twenty-four years. This situation was the most fucked-up of everything he’d lived through. His wife, the woman he was in love with, was going to be impregnated with another man’s damn sperm.

Madness.

If Braylon had had a single clue his mother would decide to seek outside help after only six months of presumably “trying” to get pregnant, he might have altered his timeline. But the woman had sprung this on him this morning. She hadn’t consulted him. She’d arranged for a man to be purchased and brought here to their home without mentioning a single word until after the deed was done.

Braylon suspected his mother was doing this out of spite. She hated that Braylon had a soft spot for Haley. It drove her nuts. No matter how hard Braylon tried to hide his feelings and play the game his parents expected of him, he couldn’t keep up the appearance of not caring.

It just wasn’t possible. If he could keep Haley in her room and never let her out, maybe no one would find out he enjoyed her company. But she was expected to sit at the table for meals and spend time every afternoon in the sitting room and every evening in the den.

Braylon tried to be present as often as possible, but it annoyed his mother that he protected her. That he cared about her. That wasn’t how his marriage was supposed to be. After all, it certainly wasn’t the type of marriage his parents had. They barely spoke to each other. He was pretty certain his father hadn’t visited his mother’s room in two decades.

“What’s your plan?” Haley asked as calmly as she could manage.

God, he loved her. He hadn’t said so yet, mostly because he didn’t want her to panic if she didn’t feel the same way about him. But he thought those words often.

Haley was strong and fucking smart. From the first day of their marriage, she’d played the game like a pro. She’d never once faltered or made a mistake or given up the ruse.

Now, that might bite them in the ass.

He drew in a deep breath and stroked his hand up her arm, threading their fingers together before bringing her knuckles to his lips and kissing them. He never took this kind of liberty with her. Until tonight, he’d never held her so closely either.

They touched. They stroked each other’s forearms. They held hands. They hadn’t kissed yet though. Nor had they so blatantly hugged, especially wearing so few clothes.

Being this close to her was becoming a challenge. He wanted her. But he still wouldn’t take her under these circumstances. Not a chance. Shit. She was young. Only twenty. That was the age she’d been forced to marry him.

She’d been so naïve that night. She’d learned a lot since then, but it wasn’t enough.

“So, here’s the thing. Have you, uh, touched yourself when you’re alone like I suggested?” He hated having these awkward conversations with her, mostly because her flushed cheeks and wide eyes made his cock harder than usual.

Naturally, she flushed now and shook her head.

He sighed. Of course she hadn’t. She was too worried about getting caught. And he couldn’t blame her. Women in his fucked-up world weren’t expected to enjoy sex. They were expected to lie down and take it.

But Braylon knew better. Guys talked. He’d heard everything there was to know about sex at his parents’ country club by the time he was twelve. He’d seen porn. He’d also gone out of his way to educate himself so he could help Haley.

“Okay, well, in another dimension than the one we currently live in, women have…things. Shit…” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Dildos.” He needed to pull his shit together and spit it out. “Toys that resemble a man’s erection.”

Her eyes widened. “Toys?”

He nodded. “Yep. Sex toys. Women use them to make themselves feel good when they’re alone.”

Her breath hitched. “What’s your point here, Bray?”

“You need to stretch out your vagina, baby. If you don’t, no one is going to believe we’ve had sex.” There. He’d said it.

She gasped. Not surprising. “With what?”

“I stuck a dildo between your mattresses.”

Yes, her eyes could get wider. She licked her lips.

“You need to get it, push it inside you, and stretch yourself.” He flopped down onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Fuck.” How the fucking hell was this where his life was? Why was he fucking explaining to his damn wife how to make it look like they’d had sex six months after their wedding?

Her fingers stroked his arm. “Okay. I’ll do it.” Her voice was soft, but she was strong. Just like he knew she could be. He’d simply shocked her. Once she wrapped her head around what needed to be done, she could do it.

He turned his head toward her, grabbed her hand, and brought her palm to his lips, kissing the tender skin.

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