Banks

I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until my head hit the pillow of my own bed. After devouring one of Emerson’s pot roasts and half a dozen broiled potatoes, getting a shower, and taking my wife hard and fast, I slept for almost twenty-four hours straight.

“Shit,” I mumble, rolling over and glancing at the time and date on my phone.

I should have set an alarm, but in truth, I needed the rest, and for the first time in days my head doesn’t feel foggy.

“You’re awake,” Giles says when I come downstairs, following the scent of garlic.

“Did I miss dinner?”

“There are leftovers.” He follows me into the kitchen and pulls out a tin foil wrapped glass tray of lasagna. Removing the wrap, he places it on the island in front of me, then hands me a fork. “It’s still warm.”

I dig in, knowing I’ll easily finish the half that’s left.

“Are you feeling better?” Giles asks, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah. But I need to get back to the lab.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, and I can tell it’s an order. Not that I take orders from anyone, especially the other husbands, but I don’t plan on going back tonight. Tonight, I need to spend time with my wife. I want to own her. Alone. Just us, nobody else, and show her that she belongs to me. Show her that I will keep her safe.

Lawson’s countdown is slowly running out.

I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do if my treatments don’t work and she doesn’t get pregnant on time.

My chest constricts.

Fucking emotions. They only make this whole process harder. But now that I’ve let myself feel, it’s damn near impossible to shut it down again. Still, it would be easier to keep a clear head, if images of Tia didn’t pop up in my head every few seconds.

“Do you know where Tia is?”

“She was in her room the last I checked, reading through the files you brought home. I’m sure she’s still there.” He shakes his head. “She’s brilliant, isn’t she.”

“Yeah,” I agree, finishing the last of the lasagna. “She is.”

Just as Giles predicted, I find my wife in her bedroom reading something on my laptop. If any other person even touched the thing, I’d have flipped, but I gave her the password a couple weeks ago when she started helping me with my research.

I trust her.

It’s a revelation every time I think about it. Because I haven’t allowed myself to trust anyone in a very long time.

She’s so caught up in whatever she’s reading that she doesn’t seem to hear me come into the room.

Not until I sit down on the bed and pull her into my arms does she blink and look up at me, a giant smile spreading across her lips.

“You finally woke up.” She shuts the laptop, then kisses me softly. “Did you have any good dreams?”

I shift so that her back is against the mattress and I’m on top of her. “I had a dream of getting you out of these clothes.”

She wiggles beneath me. “Yes, sir.”

I chuckle, loving the words on her lips. But fucking isn’t what I’m after right now. I need... more. I just don’t know what that is.

“What’s wrong?” She places a hand on my freshly shaven jaw. “You got this look...”

I roll over on my back and stare up at the ceiling, then scrub my hands over my face.

“Banks?” She doesn’t touch me, just sits up, and I can feel her gaze on me. “Is it about the research, because you’ve done so much. I really believe that you’re close to finding a cure.”

Her faith in me stirs something in my chest.

But that’s not what’s bothering me.

“I wasted too much damn time,” I mutter, then turn my head to look at her. “Shouldn’t have been so scared to open myself up to you.”

“But you have now.” She laces her fingers with mine.

I nod, but we both know there’s no guarantee how many tomorrows we have together.

“I want to tell you some things.”

“Okay.” She shifts on her side, studying me.

“About my past, and why...” I swallow. “Why I am the way I am.”

She gives a small nod, but I feel her brace herself, preparing for what I have to tell her. Because, except for Emerson, who seemed to have the perfect upbringing, there aren’t a lot of happy stories out there. And mine is just another one with heartbreak and loss as its central theme.

But I don’t want to hold anything back from her anymore.

She doesn’t say anything as I tell her about my mother passing away, or my father’s obsession with growing a harem, the deaths, and births that I attended. Her fingers squeeze mine, but she lets me talk, and I tell her every detail of watching the men my father owed rape the women I’d come to care about. I only pause, before telling her how they turned their sights on me, paying my father the ultimate revenge by humiliating his son.

“Oh, my God, Banks.” She pulls me into her arms, and while I tense at first, I allow her warmth to flood through me, to heal me in ways that I never thought possible. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. But it led me down a dark path. It’s one of the reasons I...” My heart beats wildly, acknowledging for the first time my scars. “It’s why I need control. Why I have a hard time letting my guard down with the others.”

“You’re safe here.”

“I know that.” I do. But some wounds take a lot longer to overcome.

“I love you,” she says, resting her head on my chest. “No one should have had to go through what you did.”

“It made me who I am today. That’s what I hold onto.”

“You have something else to hold onto now. Me. Us. Our family.”

Except that it could get snatched away at any moment.

I roll over, trapping her body under mine. “You’ve been taking your shots?”

“Yes. Fallon has been giving them to me.”

“Good.” We should know soon if it’s worked. “Have you had any symptoms?”

She glances away a frown tugging at her lips. “No.”

Taking her chin between my thumb and index finger, I force her to look at me. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s still early. We can do a test in two days.”

Her throat bobs on a swallow. “And if...”

“Let’s not worry about the ifs until we know the results.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

I trace my thumb over her bottom lip. So damn beautiful.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asks.

My response is crushing my lips against hers. Consuming her mouth like I want to consume her body.

More, my soul cries.

I peel her clothes off and her fingers are frantic on my own. When she’s naked beneath me, it would be easy to order her on her knees or to take her hard from behind, but I want to see her eyes as I slide inside of her.

“What do you want, sir?” she asks, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You,” I growl out, that one word more possessive than I’ve ever been. I slide my hand between us, and slip a finger inside her pussy, finding her already wet and ready for me.

Thank fucking God, because I need her now.

I wrap her legs around my waist and press my aching cock against her entrance. Holding her gaze I slowly slide inside of her, filling her completely.

Her warmth envelopes me, her muscles squeeze teasingly, but it’s the look in her eyes that holds me there.

Love.

It radiates from her, cracking any last bit of reserve I have.

“My God, Tia,” I say against her lips. “You’ve undone me.”

She whimpers and starts to move beneath me, her gaze never leaving mine.

This. It isn’t fucking, it’s making love. And I revel in it. Slow. Easy. Achingly good. Instead of owning her and controlling her, I own her in a completely different way. One that shows my love--on every inch of her creamy white skin. There’s no pain, no domination. I will show her that another time. Right now, I focus on owning her body in the present as she willingly gives it to me. We both need this.

We spend hours exploring each other's bodies, and she comes several times before I finally allow myself to spill hot and hard inside of her.

And I know that no matter what happens, there is no way in hell I’m letting anyone or anything take her away from me.