Chapter 3

Slightly 18+

 Rain

 I can’t forget it. It keeps playing in my mind like a movie stuck on repeat. That scene—it replays over and over, awakening something inside me, something new, something raw. It’s a strange feeling, unfamiliar yet intoxicating. But at the same time, there’s this nagging thought—a whisper that something isn’t right.

 It’s like being a lost soul, searching for the body it once belonged to. But if that soul finally finds its body, what would it see? A form pierced by thorns with roses wrapped around them, revealing the truth? Or a soft silk coffin, tied shut, with a knife lodged in the heart that still beats—shrouded in lies? And if it comes to this, what would the soul do? Would it endure the pain or let go?

 The questions swirled in my mind, answers stubbornly refusing to surface. Lost in thought, I stared blankly ahead, idly shaking the container of vanilla icing in my hands. The faint aroma of freshly baked pies lingered in the air, blending with the warm vanilla scent from the frosting. Sunlight streamed through the large bay windows, casting a golden glow across the spacious kitchen. A small vase of daisies sat on the counter, adding a cheerful touch to the rustic yet modern California aesthetic.

 "Hey, careful, sweetie. If you shake that any harder, it might turn into ice cream," teased Nanny Lori, her laugh lighthearted as she gently brushed my arm. Her warm, calloused touch grounded me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I blinked and gave her an apologetic smile.

 "Sorry about that, just got a lot on my mind," I murmured softly, feeling a little sheepish.

 Nanny Lori adjusted her apron, a patterned one that somehow matched the bright, airy vibe of the kitchen. "Don’t let those thoughts drag you down, honey, and stop overthinking things that hurt. Remember, you’re his wife now. You’re supposed to be happy and glowing for him," she said, her tone motherly yet firm.

 I couldn’t help but smirk, brushing off her advice with a hint of humor. "Oh, don’t worry, I’ve always been glowing. But thanks for the pep talk, Nanny Lori."

 She gave me a knowing look, shaking her head with a chuckle. "You’re a firecracker, you know that? But seriously, go have some water. You’re looking pale, honey." Her concern was evident as she placed a hand on my cheek.

 "I’m fine, really," I tried to assure her, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

 "Dasha! Get her some water, will you?" she called out to Dasha, who was sitting at the small dining table, her feet swinging as she scrolled through something on her phone.

 The kitchen was homey, with its warm wooden floors, pale blue cabinets, and a large island at the center. The backsplash, a mix of white subway tiles and ceramic California poppies, added a whimsical touch. On the counter near the oven sat a freshly baked pie, its lattice crust golden brown and slightly dusted with sugar.

 Dasha perked up at her name, her curly hair bouncing as she hopped off her chair with the grace only an energetic pre-teen could manage. She grabbed a glass and filled it from the fridge’s water dispenser. As she handed it to me, her toothy grin made me smile despite myself.

 "Here you go!" she chirped, her tone as cheerful as the daisies on the counter. She slid back into her chair, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged like a carefree kid.

 "Thanks," I said, my tone soft, and she beamed as if she’d just won a prize.

 "Perfect timing," she said with a playful lilt. "By the way, Mr. Grumpy upstairs hasn’t eaten anything all morning."

 That caught my attention. I frowned slightly. "What do you mean he hasn’t eaten?"

 "That’s just how he is," Dasha replied casually, popping a small strawberry into her mouth from the fruit bowl. "All he ever wants in the morning is coffee. That’s it."

 I turned to Nanny Lori, concern evident in my voice. "Isn’t it bad for him to just have coffee every morning?"

 The older woman sighed, placing a tray of cupcakes on the island. "Oh, it’s awful, but he won’t listen to anyone. We’ve tried to make him eat something, but he just gets all cranky about it," she said, shaking her head. "Stubborn as a mule, that one."

 "Yeah, he’s kind of scary when he gets mad," Dasha chimed in, nibbling on another strawberry. Her honesty, paired with her innocent delivery, made me chuckle softly.

 Nanny Lori set aside two cupcakes I’d baked earlier—my first successful attempt at making them. She placed them on a plate with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and handed me the tray.

 "I think you’re the only one who can get through to him, honey," she said meaningfully.

 I smiled faintly, unsure of how to respond.

 "And before you bring it to him, I left you some lotion over there," she added, gesturing to a small bottle on the counter.

 "Lotion?" I asked, confused. "I already have some."

 "Bug lotion, sweetheart," she clarified. "I noticed you’ve got quite a few bites on your neck."

 Dasha’s gaze darted to my neck, and her eyes widened in mock realization. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, she’s right—a huge bug bit you!"

 "Huge?!" Nanny Lori exclaimed, her tone playfully alarmed. "We need to tell him right away so he can deal with it!"

 "Nanny Lori, don’t make a big deal out of it!" I protested, feeling my face flush.

 "You hear that, mom? You’re making her blush!" Dasha teased, giggling uncontrollably.

 Nanny Lori turned to me, feigning surprise. "Oh, honey, your cheeks are so red you could be the next tomato pie filling!"

 I touched my cheeks, embarrassed by the heat I could feel rising. "It’s not that bad," I mumbled, avoiding their playful gazes.

 Outside the window, the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow across the yard. Inside, the air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and laughter—a reminder of home and the small joys found in such moments.

 I held the tray tightly, my hands trembling as I stood outside his office door, my heart pounding in my chest. The faint scent of his cologne—something woodsy with a hint of citrus—lingered in the air, making my nerves spike. Gathering my courage, I raised my hand to knock, but the door suddenly opened, revealing him.

 Alex stood there, his imposing height momentarily rendering me speechless. His deep brown eyes, flecked with hints of gold that seemed to catch the sunlight streaming in through the windows, locked onto mine, pinning me in place. His neatly styled dark hair had an effortless, windswept look, as if he’d just come from an outdoor meeting. He was breathtakingly handsome, dressed in a perfectly tailored navy blazer that hugged his broad shoulders and emphasized his powerful build. A crisp white shirt beneath it was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the strong lines of his collarbone, while the slim-fit khaki trousers completed his polished, yet unmistakably Californian, look. My gaze involuntarily lingered on his muscular arms, his biceps flexing slightly as he leaned casually against the doorframe.

 “I can stand here all day if you want to admire me, wife,” he said, his voice deep and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “Especially my biceps.”

 Heat crept up my face, and I opened my mouth to protest, but he interrupted me. “But I’d rather not have my wife standing here with those tiny porcelain legs of hers,” he added, his tone playful as he reached for the tray.

 Before I could react, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. The scent of his cologne was stronger now—cedarwood and bergamot with a subtle spicy undertone—making my blush deepen at the unexpected gesture. His smirk widened, the teasing glint in his eyes almost boyish. “Come in, doll.”

 I nodded mutely, stepping into his office. The room was spacious, its aesthetic modern yet warm, dominated by dark wood furniture and the faint scent of leather. The large windows framed a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance, while the California sun painted the space in golden hues. I hesitated in the doorway, still flustered, when his voice, low and commanding, reached me again.

 “Lock the door, please, doll.”

 “Why? I’m leaving after this,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, though my voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.

 He placed the tray on the mahogany desk and turned back to me, his gaze burning with intensity. “Stay,” he said simply, his tone carrying a note of finality. “I’m bored, and I need my wife’s attention.”

 I crossed my arms, determined not to let him see how much his words affected me. “I’m not a performer,” I replied with a sly smile. “But if you’re looking for entertainment, I hear there’s a carnival in town. I can take you there.”

 He chuckled, a deep sound that made my stomach flutter. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and kissed me swiftly, his lips soft but confident, catching me completely off guard.

 His lips left mine, but his gaze didn’t falter. Those warm brown eyes seemed to see right through me, and his expression softened into something almost reverent. “God, you’re mine. I’m blessed,” he said, his voice laced with conviction.

 “Blessed? Lucky you. But me? I’m still waiting on God’s blessing,” I teased, trying to deflect the emotions building inside me.

 His chuckle was warm, but there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “You’re blessed too, wife. I’m your blessing. Don’t question it anymore. If God hasn’t answered your prayers yet, He has—He gave you me.”

 “You’re not exactly what I prayed for,” I shot back, my tone playful, though my heart raced at his earnestness.

 His expression shifted, the teasing replaced by something deeper, more vulnerable. “Then what did you wish for?” he asked, his voice almost hesitant.

 I hesitated, unsure if I should tell him. The truth was, I had doubts—unanswered questions that lingered in the corners of my mind. And I knew it would take a miracle, a rare pink moon, to find the answers.

 “It’s... complicated,” I finally replied, evading his gaze. “But I’m grateful to have a husband. That’s already a big prayer answered.”

 He froze, staring at me as if trying to process my words. Slowly, his eyes brightened, sparkling with an emotion so raw it made my chest tighten.

 “Is that true, doll? I’m not imagining this, right?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

 “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re my husband,” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.

 He nodded firmly, his expression softening into a tender smile. “Yes, I’m your husband,” he said, his tone full of pride.

 Before I could say anything else, he swept me into his arms, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. He spun me around, his laugh boyish and uninhibited. “I’m your husband! Your husband!” he exclaimed, his joy infectious.

 I laughed with him, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “Okay, okay! Stop spinning, or the ants will get to the cupcakes before you do!” I said, still giggling as he set me down.

 He stopped and looked at me, his gaze so full of love it made my breath hitch. “I’m your husband,” he whispered again, as if reassuring himself.

 “Yes, you are,” I said, smiling softly. “Who else would it be?”

 His expression deepened into something sacred. “I’m damn happy, doll. Beyond happy. God, thank You for this amazing woman.”

 I placed a hand on his cheek, my smile turning tender. “And thank God for giving me a wonderful man, my husband.”

 This was right, I thought. This felt right. Despite everything, despite the doubts and questions, I knew this moment—this man—was a blessing I would cherish. Right?

 We walked toward the table, his hand firmly holding mine. The warmth of his palm seemed to seep into my skin, steadying the nervous flutter in my chest. His presence was magnetic, drawing me closer with every step. As he reached the chair, he sank into it, the sleek leather creaking slightly under his weight. Without letting go of my hand, he pulled me closer until I was standing between his legs.

 I stared at him, puzzled, my pulse quickening. “What am I supposed to do here? Just stand?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to mask my unease.

 “No, wife. Sit here,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. He patted his thighs, the smirk on his face both mischievous and devastatingly charming.

 I shook my head in disbelief, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “You can’t be serious.”

 Before I could take a step back, his grip on my hand tightened, firm yet gentle, and he tugged me forward with ease. I stumbled, landing directly onto his lap—not just his lap but squarely against his firm, unmistakable bulge. My breath hitched, and heat rushed to my face as the realization hit me like a wave.

 “Alex!” I gasped, squirming slightly, but his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me in place. His warmth radiated through the layers of our clothes, and I felt his steady heartbeat against my side.

 “Relax,” he murmured, his deep voice a soothing rumble in my ear. He rested his chin lightly on my shoulder, his lips mere inches from my neck. The intimacy of it made my pulse race.

 “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to sound firm, though my voice betrayed a slight tremor.

 “I need this,” he said softly, his breath warm against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “You smell so good, wife. Like vanilla and… sunshine.” His lips brushed lightly against my ear as he spoke, a featherlight touch that made my stomach flutter.

 I twisted slightly in his arms, trying to regain some sense of control. “Feed me, please,” he whispered huskily, his voice like velvet, wrapping around me.

 I turned to look at him, incredulous. “Don’t you have hands?” I countered, raising an eyebrow in mock defiance.

 He chuckled, his grip on me tightening just enough to make me feel completely secure in his embrace. “My hands have a higher priority,” he said, his gaze smoldering as it locked with mine. “They’re busy holding on to you, and they’re not letting go.”

 A resigned sigh escaped me, though I couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in my chest. I reached for a cupcake from the tray, holding it up to his lips. “Here,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady.

 He took a slow, deliberate bite, his eyes never leaving mine. A low, appreciative hum escaped him as he chewed. “You made this?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine surprise and admiration.

 I nodded, my blush deepening under his intense gaze. “Yes, I made them for you,” I said softly, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

 His expression shifted, a shadow crossing his features as his playful demeanor gave way to something more vulnerable. “Nanny Lori mentioned you didn’t eat anything this morning,” I said, frowning slightly. “Why not?”

 He shrugged, his jaw tightening briefly before he replied. “Reasons,” he said, his tone quieter now. “But now... now I have someone to eat with.”

 His words tugged at something deep within me, his honesty leaving me momentarily speechless. I tried to tease, to lighten the weight of the moment. “So, you need someone just to make you eat?” I quipped, a small smile tugging at my lips.

 He shook his head, his gaze softening as it roamed my face. “No,” he said, his voice steady, but his eyes burned with something deeper. “It’s just... eating alone feels empty. But now that you’re here, I finally have a reason. A reason to wake up. A reason to sit here and share something as simple as a meal.”

 His confession caught me off guard, my chest tightening with an unfamiliar warmth. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I could only stare at him, my heart beating loudly in the silence between us.

 Before I could muster a reply, he leaned in, brushing his lips against my cheek. The kiss was soft but lingering, his warmth seeping into me, leaving my skin tingling in its wake.

 “It’s delicious, wife,” he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude and something unspoken. “I love them. Thank you.”

 I blushed furiously, turning my head to hide my smile, though I knew he could see right through me.

 The low vibration of his phone interrupted the moment, cutting through the silence like a sharp reminder of reality. “Could you hand me that, please?” Alex asked, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of irritation.

 I reached over to the table, grabbing the sleek black phone. It was warm from sitting under the sunlight streaming through the window. I handed it to him, and he accepted it with one hand, the other still firmly wrapped around me, as though letting me go wasn’t an option.

 “Thank you,” he murmured, pressing the phone to his ear. His voice shifted immediately, becoming deep and authoritative. I couldn’t make out the words, but the power in his tone made it clear whoever was on the other end was someone he didn’t tolerate easily.

 While he spoke, I let my eyes wander around his office. Now, I can describe his grand office. The space was grand, exuding an air of masculine sophistication. Rich mahogany bookshelves lined one side of the room, their shelves neatly arranged with leather-bound books and small trinkets that hinted at his interests. The large desk in the center was clutter-free except for a laptop, a few papers, and a crystal paperweight that caught the light beautifully.

 To the right of the desk, two closed doors piqued my curiosity. A bathroom? A private study? My gaze shifted to the two large windows behind us. Heavy curtains framed them, drawn just enough to let in a soft, golden glow. By the windows, a seating area with plush couches and a low coffee table made the room feel less like an office and more like a retreat.

 When Alex ended the call, he set the phone back on the table with a quiet thud. His jaw was tight, the tension in his shoulders evident as he pulled me closer and buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply.

 “What happened?” I asked softly, noting the shift in his demeanor.

 He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. “Someone’s being a coward,” he muttered, his voice rough. “It’s annoying.”

 I tilted my head to look at him. “You want to be a vampire now?" I said, trying to control the heating lava that rises my body.

 A smirk tugged at his lips, but his gray eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths. “No,” he replied, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “But let’s call this... level one.”

 I frowned, unsure of what he meant. “Level one? What do you mean?”

 His smirk deepened, the curve of his lips both playful and dangerous. “So obedient, wife. I like it.” His voice was low, smooth like honey. “Now, take off your clothes. That's the start of the level one.”

 My eyes widened in shock, heat rushing to my face. “What?!”

 Without another word, he stood, setting me on my feet in front of him. His towering frame loomed over me, his gaze commanding and unwavering. My heart raced as I hesitated, caught in the intensity of his stare.

 His voice softened, though the authority in it remained. “You trust me, don’t you?”

 I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I reached for the hem of my shirt. Slowly, I pulled it over my head, exposing more of my skin to his heated gaze. When I was left in just my bra, he stepped closer, his breath warm against my ear.

 “I’ll take care of that,” he murmured, his voice thick with promise.

 With expert fingers, he unclasped my bra, letting it fall away effortlessly. My chest was bare, my breathing shallow as I felt the cool air against my skin.

 Reaching for the glass of juice from the tray, his smirk turned wicked. “Let’s add some sweetness.”

 “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “This is going to be so messy!”

 “Relax, wife,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “It’s just the beginning.”

 He tilted the glass, letting the cold liquid spill onto my skin. The chilled sensation against my warmth made me gasp, my body instinctively arching away from the icy trail.

 His lips followed immediately, hot and deliberate, as he licked the juice off my skin with slow, tantalizing strokes. The contrast of his warmth against the cold liquid sent a jolt of electricity through me.

 “Stop squirming,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a mix of command and amusement. “I’m not even done yet.”

 He poured more juice over my chest, focusing on one breast. His mouth followed, his tongue tracing the sticky trail with agonizing precision. He sucked lightly, his lips teasing as I gasped, my body alight with sensation.

 “Alex,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.

 He hummed in response, his lips curving into a smirk as he moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. His tongue swirled around my nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking gently as if savoring every moment.

 He poured more juice over my chest, focusing on one breast. His lips followed, sucking and licking as I gasped, my body igniting with every touch. He moved between each breast, his mouth devouring me with an intensity that left me breathless.

 “Alex... ahhh,” I moaned, unable to hold back.

 He smirked, taking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as if he were savoring the sweetest treat.

 When the glass was empty, he leaned back, his face flushed, his eyes heavy with desire. “You look absolutely stunning, wife,” he said, his voice rough with passion. “But it ends here. For now.”

 I blinked, trying to steady my breathing, my body still trembling from his touch.

 Before I could respond, he pulled me back onto his lap, cradling me in his arms. His strong, steady heartbeat was a soothing contrast to the storm he had just unleashed in me. I rested my head against his chest, exhausted yet undeniably content, my mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened.

 “Are you tired?” he asked, his voice soft now.

 I nodded, and he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the couch. He disappeared into one of the doors and returned with a black shirt.

 He helped me put it on, his touch gentle. “Rest, wife.”

 “I want you to hold me,” I whispered, barely able to keep my eyes open.

 He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I will. I just need to finish something first, okay?”

 I nodded, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt his warmth lingering, a smile playing on my lips.