Chapter 18

I couldn’t help but notice that I would like to have sex with you on a regular basis.

-A note from Verity to Truth

Verity

I woke up to lips on my neck.

Hands on my body.

A cock working its way inside of me.

But it was okay. I didn’t panic, even when that huge cock shifted, going from partially inside of me to all the way inside of me in a matter of seconds.

I gasped and turned my face, burying it deeply in the bend of Truth’s neck.

“Truth!” I gasped against his skin, my legs tightening around his hips.

How he had gotten this far into the process without me waking was questionable, but when he started to move his hips, tiny slight movements that let me know just how far and deep he was inside of me, I lost my ability to think coherently.

“You’re awake,” came his deep rumbly voice against my ear. “Took you long enough.”

I bit his neck, and his hips jerked, making me smile.

He growled roughly, then clenched onto my hips with both hands as he started to fuck me harder and faster than I’d ever been fucked before.

Gone were the slow, sensuous movements and in their place was the familiar rough, erratic need that always seemed to come from the both of us.

I was seconds away from coming when Truth started to speak. He didn’t stop…just interrupted.

“Baby.”

I shook my head, my eyes rolling into the back of my skull.

“Baby.”

Someone was knocking on the door. That’s what must be causing him to stop. To slow his pace.

That orgasm that I could feel on the verge of breaking through slowly started to dissipate.

Why was he trying to talk in a moment like this? Why not just finish? Fuck whoever was at the door.

“Verity.”

He growled, low and deep, and I opened my eyes. To…nothing?

The knocking still remained, though, leaving me to question what exactly was going on. Clearly, I’d been having some happy time as evidenced by my hand down my pants. I’d also been tossing and turning because my linens and comforter were down by my feet. Half on, half off, the bed.

The knocking sounded again, and I plucked my hand from my panties, jackknifed out of bed, and nearly tripped on my shoes that I’d left on the floor.

Once catching myself, I grabbed my sleep pants that I’d discarded near the wall, and slipped them on before reaching for the lock on the door.

The moment I got it open, I found the door pushed open, and my back against the wall with two hundred and forty pounds of man flesh in my hands.

“Fuck, but I missed you.”

And this time, everything that happened was more than real.

By the time he showed me just how real, I was on the floor with my head halfway under the bed. The pretty chevron bed skirt was covering half my face, and I found myself wondering if this was how life was going to go for me from now on.

Were we always going to have sex this good? Was Truth just some sex master who just knew how to manipulate women’s bodies or were we special?

My hope was that we were special together.

“I’m sorry.”

His sincere apology had me blinking in surprise.

“What?” I asked, startled.

He pulled out of me, slapped a towel on my vagina, and yanked me out from under the bed by my hips.

I gasped, the carpet burning my back and ass, and glared.

“Ouch,” I snapped. “Gently, motherfucker.”

He snorted.

“I said, I’m sorry,” he repeated again.

“Why?” I asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean, why?”

His brows lowered, and he looked at me for a few long seconds before sighing and offering me his hand.

I took it, and he hauled us both up by our feet at the same time.

The man was amazingly in shape, and I felt like a lard ass next to him.

But he didn’t seem to care about my lard, nor my carpet burned ass.

His eyes were worried, and I waited for him to say whatever it was he was trying not to say.

“I’m not very good at this husband thing,” he admitted finally.

I waited for more, but none was forthcoming.

Leaning to the side so I could waddle and hold the towel at the same time, I walked to the bathroom and cleaned myself up before responding.

“I’m not very good at being a wife.”

He snorted and followed close behind me.

“We’re going to bungle through this together then,” he said as he gathered my naked body into his.

“What was the meeting in Louisiana about?” I asked, curious as hell to see what he would say.

Would he tell me the truth? I already had the truth…at least what I knew to be the truth. Jessie—no JJ—had told me that it was some meeting about moving to Texas and starting a new chapter.

I wondered if he had been assigned to there. JJ had also told me that the decision wouldn’t be their call. If they were asked to go, they’d have to go.

And I kind of wanted to.

There was nothing holding me here. I didn’t have a job—not really. Sure, Truth was currently keeping me employed, but it wasn’t like it was something that I really needed to be there for. I was there as moral support. The pub ran like a well-oiled machine, and I was sure if I left, they wouldn’t notice I was missing.

They hadn’t in that week I’d been gone and avoiding Truth.

In fact, I’d gotten there to check over our incoming merchandise lists, and it’d already been done. Nobody would tell me directly, but I assumed it was Truth who’d done it because nobody else had the files and passwords to get in but him—the same person to give me them in the first place.

“It’s been decided to open up a new chapter in Texas, and we were asked for volunteers to see who would like to go up there and start it. The volunteers wouldn’t have to stay, but it would be something that would last about six to eight months while the club established its roots and made sure everything was smoothed out in the city before we pulled out and left the remaining members to carry on without us,” Truth offered without hesitation.

“And did you volunteer?” I asked hesitantly.

He shook his head and reached for his jeans.

“Fuck no,” he said as he slid them on.

He didn’t bother with a shirt. And he barely bothered with his pants seeing as he didn’t worry to do up the belt.

The pants hung low on his hips. So low, in fact, that his happy trail and those little indents on either side of his groin were showing, making me wonder if it was possible to go again after the orgasm that I’d just had.

And as I watched him bend and twist, moving about the room as he unloaded his pocket and got rid of his belt, I realized that yes, it was indeed possible to go again in such a short amount of time.

I knew he knew how I was feeling, too. The way he watched me watch him had me nearly reaching for his pants—if I hadn’t been interrupted by another freakin’ knock on the door.

“This is ridiculous,” I groaned. “How fucking hard is it to let a woman sleep in?”

I hadn’t been able to sleep in in over a decade.

The job at the newspaper had practically forced me into being an early riser whether I wanted to be or not.

“That would be our breakfast,” he grinned.

I grabbed the first thing I saw, which happened to be Truth’s t-shirt, and slipped it on over my head before sitting down on the bed and pulling up my discarded covers.

My anger at being interrupted disappeared just as fast as it rose, leaving me wondering what that secret smile was on his face.

What was he smiling about?

The answer came really quickly as he opened the door, smiled at some woman who I hadn’t met the night before and took the tray of food the woman was holding out to him.

She was an older woman with graying brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a sharp intellect that told me she knew exactly what she’d interrupted, and what we’d been doing in here all morning.

“Thank you, Millie,” Truth said to the woman.

The woman smiled at that husband of mine like she knew him, flicked a glance my way, and then left without a word.

“Who was that?” I asked as I threw the covers off and walked toward the door where Truth had placed the tray of food on the entryway table.

“That,” he said, lifting the lid off the plates and tossing them carelessly to the ground in the way only a man could, and waved his hands at the feast before him like he’d made the shit himself.

“Voila!” he said. “Does this make me a better husband yet?”

The way he was smiling at me like he’d just uncovered the Holy Grail had a grin playing at my lips.

“Yeah,” I agreed readily, “it does.”

He winked at me, causing my smile to widen, and brought the huge stack of pancakes to the bed and placed them on the mattress before going back for the syrup.

I bit my lip when he poured it on so thickly that it nearly ran off the plate.

“Holy shit,” I said. “I hope that’s yours and not mine.”

I eyed the plate, waited for it to roll off the edge, but it never did.

It was like he put this much syrup on every time he had pancakes, and knew just the exact amount needed to satisfy him.

“It’s mine,” he said. “Though, I guess if I were a better husband, I would’ve allowed you to use the syrup first.”

I rolled my eyes and decided that since he was in such a good mood, I wanted to ask him something that the ladies and I had discussed last night while we’d driven to Tommy’s parents’ place.

“I want to take engagement pictures,” I broached the subject carefully. Because I knew if I worded this wrong, he would totally say no. Truth was like that with his looks. They were beautiful, and wonderful, and they were all part of the reason he hated his dad—because he looked just like him. Part of the reason he’d had such a shitty childhood.

Something I’d learned over the last few days I’d been living with him.

He didn’t own a freakin’ mirror, and when I’d broached the subject, he’d flat out refused to have one in the house.

When I’d gotten one anyway, he’d hidden it from me.

When I’d gotten a second one, he’d hidden that, too.

A few nights ago, we’d had a knock-down, drag out fight, and he’d finally explained that he didn’t need a mirror to know what he looked like. When I’d asked why, he’d then went on to explain how, in high school, he’d been teased about being ‘pretty’ and over time, he’d learned to just deal.

And by dealing, that meant not doing a damn thing when it came to his appearance. That equaled no mirrors anywhere in the house, and a beard that was unruly if he didn’t go to the barber shop and get it trimmed and corralled back into the beauty that it was at this very second.

Truth’s eyes came to me.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

I smiled. “Because, in fifty years, I want to look back at these photos and remember what made them so special.”

“We’re already married,” he pointed out.

I shrugged. “Please?”

I made sure to stick my lip out for added emphasis, and he growled low in his throat.

“Fine.”

I clapped my hands excitedly.

“Oh, goody!” I said. “I know just the person!”

I’d discussed it with Tommy’s mother last night, and she’d told me that there was a photographer who would likely be willing to do it if she asked.

I reached my hands around his neck and pulled him to me, placing my lips gently against his.

He tasted like syrup.

“Thank you, big guy,” I placed one more kiss on his lips. “You’re the greatest.”

***

“So, this wasn’t what I was thinking,” I mumbled darkly.

Truth’s eyes showed mirth, and it took everything I had to hold onto the pissed off look on my face.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What did you have in mind?”

He grabbed my hair and pulled me forward, and I had to fight not to go limp at the feeling of his strong hand in my hair.

“I thought you’d have on nice clothes. I also thought that you’d stand here and look nice. Not hide your face every single time she went to take a picture of us.”

His smile was slow, easy, and uncaring.

“Yeah?” He licked his lips, which in turn caused him to lick mine due to our close proximity. “Well, you wanted them. You said nothing about me having to look at the camera. She’ll get plenty of good ones, I promise.”

He was right. Each time she asked us to move to a new pose, and we did, she’d show us the pictures afterwards.

None of them had Truth’s full face in the frame. None of them had his eyes.

However, in all of them, I could see the love shining in my eyes. I could also see the way Truth’s body leaned over mine. How he held me protectively in his arms. How each and every shot she got, the desire he felt for me was written all over his body.

So no, I didn’t have his face.

But I did have his heart, his body, and his love in the pictures, and that was enough.

As long as I had him, it would always be enough.