“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” he returned with a smile. “Sounds like maybe you’re hungry now, hm?”
I yawned and nodded, then wriggled around until I was sitting up. “I think so.”
“Good.” Roger set his book on the floor beside the sofa, keeping his eyes on me. “How are you feeling?”
A quick self-inventory suggested that a trip to the restroom was in order, but other than that and my growling stomach, I felt better than I had in, well, weeks.
“Rested,” I said with a small smile. “Can I use the bathroom?”
“Of course,” Roger agreed promptly. “You’re to make yourself completely at home.” He stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet when I accepted it. “Let me give you a quick tour.”
I released his hand to grab the blanket that fell when I stood, folding it quickly and dropping it back on the couch before reaching for him again. Something about the feel of his skin against mine was so appealing that I couldn’t help myself. He accepted the contact without comment and led me from room to room, ending at the door to the main floor powder room for me to take care of my business.
When I was finished, the table in the small dining area off the kitchen was already loaded down with plates of roast chicken and vegetables, fluffy biscuits, and mashed potatoes drenched in a savory brown gravy. I hurried over, my mouth watering as though it had been much longer than the few hours since our last meal.
“This smells amazing.” I happily took the seat Roger guided me toward, dropping the napkin in my lap. “You must be a really good cook!”
Roger’s cheeks colored slightly and he waved the compliment off. “It’s not really that hard,” he demurred, passing me the honey for my biscuit. “And it’s kind of nice to have a real kitchen to work in after years of throwing meals together over campfires and the like.”
Roger had told me a little bit about the security service brigade during our time at Omega Destiny, International, but not in much detail. This was the first I’d heard about him cooking meals at campsites, so I was curious. In between bites of the delicious food, I peppered him with questions, delighting in the stories he told me about the experiences and mishaps he’d had through the years.
I was still giggling over the visual of a venison-and-red-wine stew raining down over him and his commanding officers after a pressure-pot failure when he stood to collect our empty plates.
“Oh, let me help,” I insisted, collecting the platter with the leftover chicken and vegetables on it and following him to the kitchen.
Instead of arguing, Roger pecked me on the cheek and directed me to the cupboard where he kept his storage containers, allowing me to get the leftovers put away while he rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. In hardly any time, the kitchen had been put back to rights and Roger was leading me back to the couch. This time, he sat down in the center facing the television and tugged me down close to his side.
“Is this okay?” he asked, pulling the soft blanket from earlier over to cover me.
“Yeah,” I agreed, unable to stop myself from snuggling close to him. “As long as you don’t mind.” I hesitated and then blew out a breath. “I, um, need to apologize for earlier,” I said quietly.
Roger stiffened slightly and then breathed out and I knew he was forcing himself to relax. God knew I’d done it myself many, many times.
“For what?”
Even though I knew that was a valid question after the disaster of the day, I was irrationally annoyed that he was going to make me spell it out.
“For everything,” I finally responded. “For the Director dragging you into this mess, for running away and you having to chase me down.” I drew in a slow breath and let it out. “For my, uh, licentious behavior when I woke up.”
Roger remained silent and I could almost hear his mind whirring as he considered my apology. The moment stretched out between us until he finally cleared his throat.
“Ari, I wasn’t dragged into anything. I was a much more than willing participant when we had sex, so I am also just as responsible for your pregnancy as you are.” He huffed under his breath. “In fact, given that I have more experience than you did at the time, there is a strong argument that I am even more responsible for it.”
He paused to let that sink in, pressing a light kiss to my hair. “And even though I still don’t know exactly what happened, I am assuming that you ran because you were scared, which is a perfectly normal response to fear. And I didn’t have to chase you down, as you put it. I was worried about you and want to keep you safe.”
Another pause and another kiss, this one on my cheek. “As for our intimacy after the nap, you’ll have to tell me what you’re sorry for, exactly.” Roger toyed with the fingers he was holding, stroking his thumb over my palm. “I don’t know what you think you did wrong.”
My cheeks began to burn. “Well, um, all of it,” I tried to speak but my voice was oddly high-pitched. “For, uh, rubbing against you and..” I waved my hand, completely unsure how to even describe my actions.
Roger’s grip on my hand tightened and there was the devil’s own glint in his eyes as he looked into mine. “Are you really sorry you did it, Ari?” Roger’s voice was low and deep and the sound of it made the trembling in my belly worse. “Or do you just think you should be because you liked it? Because I have to tell you that I’m not sorry you did it at all.”
“I..” My jaw dropped. “But I..in my underwear.” I gasped for breath and tried again. “Then..oh, God.” I groaned and pulled my hands away, dropping my flaming face into them.
“Then?” Roger prompted, the fingers I’d freed moving up to tease my neck, tickling along the collar of my shirt. “Oh, you mean when I took your hard, throbbing cock into my mouth and sucked on it so you shot your cum down my throat?”
Oh, God help me. Roger’s vulgar words had my privates filling again, the memory of his mouth on me making me ache in a way that promised pleasure if I just gave into it.
