Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire
Chapter 97

After shower time, which included some pretty spectacular getting-slammed-up- against-the-shower-wall s*x, he promptly passed out cold on the bed, towel around his waist, still soaking wet, lying on his stomach. Evidently, when Azriel Clarke was pooped, shower s*x put him over the edge. In the shower, though, he’d looked me in the eyes while holding my face in his hands and said, “Any secrets I keep from you, baby, are so that you can sleep at night. You don’t need to lie there like I do wishing you didn’t know s**t. Okay?”

I’d nodded.

I took a rest beside him for a bit but didn’t fall asleep. He was snoring. After a while, I decided to check on the barbecue. I added more charcoal and got it going again and got dinner cooked for us.

When all was done and the table was all set, I woke him up by tugging his towel away. He hadn’t moved at all and it’d been a few hours. His eyes stayed closed but a smile spread across his face. Then I climbed onto his back and sat on his naked and very fantastic rear end and started massaging his shoulders and his arms. He had a hard, muscular body, a man’s body. It was gorgeous. I kissed his muscled back in between his shoulder blades,

“Dinner’s ready,” I murmured against his skin.

He twisted around onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and then caught my face between his hands and pulled me close to k**s him.

“Somebody’s awake,” I mused, feeling his e******n hardening underneath me.

He g*****d and tried to gyrate, grabbing my h**s.

“Dinner will get cold and I worked hard; let’s go, Mr. Sleepy.” I ruffled his hair, scooted off him and he smiled lazily at me.

Azriel’s POV

And she could cook! f**k me. It was sweet that she’d done that while I slept, taking care of me like that, especially considering she’d spent last night in the hospital. After dinner was finished, we cleaned up together, talking casually about things couples who were getting to know one another talked about: movies, music, video games. We didn’t have the same taste in most of it (her taste in music generally sucked) but she seemed open-minded enough and promised to watch old Bruce Lee movies with me if I promised to watch some Notebook movie with her. I had a feeling it was a chick flick. She shook her head when I muttered that but didn’t verbalize a No.

I built a campfire and once it was roaring she proceeded to prepare and then demolish a bunch, maybe six, of her s’mores. I barely got one into me, trying to refuse it because I was stuffed from dinner but relented and only because she insisted I eat “the best thing ever.” Talk about toothache on a graham cracker!

She started to look drowsy, yawning and staring sleepily at the fire so I scooped her up and carried her back up to bed with thoughts of making love to her again. She acted all shy when I lifted her up but then the yawns and the m***s as she held her belly from all the chocolate cookies and marshmallow led to me simply tucking her in and holding her until she fell asleep against me, her head on my chest, her leg hooked around me, and her fingertips slowly scrubbing the stubble on my chin. When her hand dropped as she finally was out, I kissed the top of her head and pulled her tighter to me.

I laid awake half the night holding her and thinking that I didn’t want to take her back to the house; I wanted to stay here with her, away from gunfire, seedy business dealings, and people who hated me enough to want to take out someone I loved. Being here, living a simple life where she cooked me dinner and I chopped wood and baited her hook… just us two had appeal. f**k the big house and the servants. f**k the business, f**k the truth, I just wanted to keep her here and forget everyone else existed. Keep her here and protect her, spend every minute making up for the shitty hand she got dealt when she ended up with Dawson as a father and then wound up with me in her life.

Funny how I initially thought getting married was a means to getting more power, more autonomy, but now the idea of getting married got me thinking more about life with a wife than anything else, about the things and people I’d have to protect her from, about keeping my own demons at bay.

I felt sick for a second when I imagined the fear I’d have one day when she carried my baby, the fear of someone taking her, hurting her, and my child. A child. s**t. I also thought about the s**t Earl’d told me, and it all went round and round all f*****g night long.