He turns back to Abby, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The air still hums between us, snapping like there’s a live wire in the room, the electrical current uncontrolled and violent.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ll get you cleaned up. A bath and a treat, hmm? That sound about right, Abby?”
A few more gentle pets and the dog raises her head. She has soft brown eyes, the kind of eyes that tug at my soul. They would have all the same, even if I didn’t know about the hardships she’d endured, but now that I do, those big velvetybrown eyes, fringed with little doggy eyelashes, are that much more beautiful for the trust and love I see reflected in them.
Wraith says something soft under his breath, and lifts Abby carefully. He wraps her up in his arms and hauls her up against his chest. She’s not a small dog. She probably weighs seventy pounds, but he lifts her with ease and the utmost gentleness.
He casts me a look of apology. “I’m gonna give her a bath. Won’t be long. You can… uh… sit down on the couch if you want. I’m… I know it’s…”
I shake my head, dispelling the awkwardness. “It’s alright. She’s perfect. I love dogs. I always wanted one, but my mother lived in an apartment, and we weren’t allowed and my father would never have allowed one in the house.”
Wraith’s deeply dark eyes, eyes velvety black with little copper flecks, soften. “That’s a shame. Everyone should have a dog.”
This, at least, we have in common. One thing that is in no way small or insignificant. His overly hard features, that dangerous edge he has, softens away again, as he grants me one of those genuine smiles that I don’t think he gives to many people. I don’t know how I know. I justfeelit.
I feel it straight to the soles of my feet, my shaky legs, my coiled stomach, my chest that feels like it’s going to collapse, my savagely beating heart, the hair standing to attention on the back of my arms and at my nape and the heat pooling in my belly and flooding my limbs.
I want to say something. Anything. I can’t. Not just because my throat is entirely closed up or because my heartis hammering so loud, I’m sure it must be audible or because my pulse is raging at my neck so hard that I want to put my hand up to keep it from ripping at my skin. I just can’t find the right words to express anything, anything about this, this crazy day that neither of us wanted, this unexpected softness, a truce of sorts, that we seem to have walked into. Or the dangerous undercurrent that’s overwhelming me from the inside out. I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid, that my raging hormones will betray me and give me away.
Instead of saying something insightful, I duck my head. “Do you have any cleaning supplies? I can help.”
“No. No way. You’re not cleaning up this mess.”
“Why not? I feel like I should do something other than sit. My dress is already wrecked.” I glance down pointedly at the places it was ripped by hands that can be both brutal and astoundingly gentle. “What does it matter?”
“It matters,” he grinds out. “No one should have to clean up poop on their wedding night.”
“No? This whole thing was a shitshow. What’s a little more?”
To my surprise, after a moment of silence, Wraith laughs. The sound is dark and husky, raw like it’s scraping up his throat, like it doesn’t come out often. I whip my head up to find him studying me.
“Alright. Shit’s under the kitchen sink. No gloves though.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”
“No?” He cocks a dark brow right before his eyes trace over me, scalding me with his hot gaze, before he gives his head one more shake, and disappears, Abby cradled against his chest.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The message was clear. He wants to know what else I’d like to get dirty. My wicked pulse ripping out of my neck betrays the fact that maybe I’d like to know as well.
I’m left alone in the room, the distant sounds of his voice and then the louder rush of water filling a tub from somewhere deep in the house. In a house that is now mine, at least, sort of.
It doesn’t belong to me any more than the man who owns it does, and yet… we might be strangers, but I’ve made him laugh. I’ve seen his eyes soften and he’s given me a glimpse of the goodness of his heart. It’s not much to base a marriage on, but it’s a start. Besides, damn it, it’s not possible to hate a man who is so kind and gentle with his paralyzed dog.
Chapter 7
Wraith
This was not how I planned on spending my wedding night.
Not that I had any real plans to start with, but bathing my dog, putting on a new diaper, and getting her hooked back into her wheelchair, then coming out and finding my new bride on her knees in her ruined wedding dress, scrubbing poop off the floor and walls. That wasn’t exactly a part of even the most sordid fantasy and let me be the first to say, I know sordid.
I’m not a romantic bastard, but even I know that this isn’t going to cut it.
Yet… she looks almost happy on her knees. She hasn’t heard me come out into the living room yet, she’s so absorbed in what she’s doing. She looks adorable like that, her tight round ass in the air, her forehead knitted in concentration, her teeth sunk into her lower lip, a slight red tinge riding high on her cheekbones from the effort.
Lord, she’s more than adorable.
She’s completely fuckable.
