Brother to Brother: The Sacred Brotherhood Book I (18 page)

There were washcloths and towels tucked under the little side table where the lamp sat beside the tub, so I had them in easy reach. I also had the little wooden box beside the lamp, and it was filled not only with bath bombs and bubble baths, but little bottles of shampoo and conditioner, massage oil and lotion. It had just about everything a woman would need for more than just a three day stay. The club’s women really
had
thought of everything.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting the heat from the water work its magic, startling when the water shut off. I opened my eyes and Archer was perched in the wooden chair that sat beside the bathtub, across from the little stand with everything else on it. I glanced down at the water, grateful for it’s now milky appearance that hid all of me from the chest down. I just didn’t know if I was ready yet…
You’ll never be ready, even when it finally happens,
I told myself,
and it’s
going
to happen.

“You’re going to drown yourself,” Archer murmured and he was right, the water caressed my throat. Much more, and my mouth would have been covered. He slipped a washcloth off the top of the pile and set it on his denim clad knee.

When he’d changed, he’d left his black, button down, collared shirt on, choosing to simply untuck it. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and his motorcycle boots and had put his cut back on over his leather jacket. Once he had slipped
that
on he’d been ready to go. Now, his boots and socks were gone, and so was his jacket and cut.

He rolled the sleeves of the shirt back over his muscular forearms while he sat there with me and I watched in utter fascination I paid them to stay in their basement with Noah, but diapers, and I had trouble breast feeding so I had to supplement with formula, it just had to happen… so it took just about everything I had left. as he did it.

“What are you doing?” I asked softly and he smiled a little and dipped the washcloth into the bathwater, soaking it thoroughly.

“I want to see you,” he said and picked up a little bar of face soap, unwrapping it and sticking the wrapper in his pocket to dispose of later.

“I’m right here,” I said confused and he shook his head gently, lathering the cloth.

“I want to see
you
,” he repeated, emphasis on ‘you’ and when I shook my head he reached for me, gently smoothing the washcloth along my cheek. “This paint isn’t you, Mel. Never understood why you put it on all the time; you don’t need it,” he said and I closed my eyes, wooden, holding stock still as he washed the makeup which I’d totally forgotten about, off my skin. He dipped the washcloth several times to rinse it, and wiped at my face to remove all the soap, so that I could open my eyes.

“Thank you,” I murmured and he tipped his head to the side, giving me a curious look. “For saying those things…” I said, “I don’t think anyone’s ever complimented me in quite such a way.”

“That’s a damn shame then,” he uttered then ordered me gently, “Sit up.”

I did, hugging my knees and splashed water on my face to rinse off any residual soap while Archer ran the cloth over my back, my skin tingling gently with every pass at the attention. It’d been a very long time since anyone had touched me and he was being so careful.

“I like your hair down, too,” he muttered and hung the washcloth on the side of the tub, his fingers gently pulling flowers and pins from my hair, stacking them in a neat pile by the lantern on the table.

I closed my eyes and let him work, my scalp sighing in relief as the tight grip my hair had been in relaxed its hold. He went a step further, once all the pins were out, and deftly massaged my scalp and I swear I turned into a bit of goo. It did little to soothe my anxiety, but it felt wonderful none the less.

“Do… do you want in here?” I asked softly and Archer chuckled.

“Maybe another time, right now I’m just kind of enjoying this, right here.” He braced his forearms on his knees and let his green-gold gaze travel over what damp skin there was peeking above the water.

I was silent, out of things to say, but I was surprised to find that the silence wasn’t entirely awkward, but rather calming in its own way. Archer simply sat with me, making no move to do anything, and certainly making no demands. Eventually, it was as if his gaze had drank its fill and he straightened with a sigh. He stretched and stood up, a little stiffly.

“I’ll grab your PJ’s and you can get out when you’re ready and join me, how does that sound?”

I nodded, and huddled in the cooling water saying, “Alright, that sounds good,” even though my heart seemed to flutter erratically at the thought that my time was up, and this was the end of the line.

“Be right back,” he murmured and went out into the rest of the little stone cabin.

He returned a moment later and laid a pair of peach satin sleep shorts with a matching peach satin and cream lace camisole on the chair. I blinked, stunned, I had never owned anything quite so nice before… like
ever
.

I looked up at Archer who was looking down at me, one brow raised as if challenging me to say something off about the gift. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t but I was curious…

“Was this you, or one of the girls?” I asked softly.

“Me,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I like you in those little shorts and that tank you wear around the apartment. There’s something simple, and sexy as fuck about it.”

I swallowed hard, I’d had no idea that he’d thought so, or that he’d ever even thought of me in that way.

“Thank you,” I murmured, at a loss as to what else I should say, but if someone bought you a gift, that’s what you said, right?

He gave me a nod, a simple inclination of his head, really, and he murmured, “Welcome. Take your time,” and with that, he left the little bathroom shutting the door behind him so that I could get out and dress in peace.

I fished for the drain plug and pulled it, watching the milky water and bits of sparkle from the bath bomb swirl as it drained. I stood up carefully and plucked a towel from the pile, wrapping in it and stepping out of the tub onto the plush bathmat.

I huddled in the towel and dried my body carefully, my hair had somehow avoided getting wet, even at the ends, and I figured that was something. I didn’t want to get wet spots on probably the nicest thing I had ever owned to wear.

Okay, I was as dry as I was going to get and had to admit to myself that maybe this didn’t have anything to do with the sleep set but rather had everything to do with me procrastinating on going out there. I’d never been
scared
of sex before, so this was something new. I couldn’t hide in here all night though, so I might as well bite the proverbial bullet, get out there, and get this over with.

Hell of a romantic way to spend your honeymoon, Mel.

I opened the door to the bedroom and tried not to gasp. He’d lit all of the candles and the room was not only warm, but smelled lightly of vanilla and I think lavender. I swallowed hard and looked at him, naked from the waist up, sitting in the bed with the blankets over his lap. I didn’t know if he was completely nude, but I figured I was about to find out. He patted the bed beside him and I forced my feet into motion, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Nervous?” he asked in that low timbre that had me shivering for a whole different reason. Archer always had a really good bedroom voice, even when he wasn’t anywhere near a bedroom.

“Scared,” I admitted and he cocked his head to the side.

“Don’t be, I promised you I would both honor and cherish you at that altar today, I’m a man of my word.”

I bowed my head and let my hair, which was past my shoulders now, hide my face. He reached out and tucked the fall behind my ear so he could see me.

“Come here,” he said.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“I… I really don’t know.”

“I don’t think I’m going to do anything with you tonight,” he murmured.

I felt stricken, like I’d done something wrong and it was out of my mouth before I could stop it, “Why not?”

“I don’t like my women afraid, Melody. It doesn’t do anything for me. I’d prefer it if you were willing –”

“I am,” I said quickly and he lifted the covers, I caught a glimpse of his hip as I brought my legs up to ease beneath them… he
was
nude. A lump formed in my throat and I wasn’t sure I could speak past it if I wanted to.

“Straddle me,” he ordered and I moved slowly to comply. He wasn’t hard, at least not yet, and I still had my shorts on so this was okay… I mean it
was
okay, right? I felt my breathing grow shallow and more rapid as his hands fell onto my hips. He smoothed them up my body, and around me drawing me down so my forehead rested against his.

My blood rushed in my ears, my pulse fluttering hard against the insides of my wrists. I had my hands buried in the pillows to either side of him and he sighed, breath warm against my lips; just another inch and they would touch.

“Touch me, Mel. I won’t bite,” he murmured and I raised my hands, placing them on his chest. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks and
he
sighed out… a strange mix of sounds, both erotic and contented.

“O…okay?” I stammered.

“Hmm, you’re safe with me, just remember that; keep it in your mind, Baby. You’re
safe.
” He said and before I could respond or think, or
do
anything he’d sat up with me in his arms and turned us. I felt like I was falling for one awful second before the soft bed caught me and my heart took up residence in my throat.
Oh god, he’s on top of me!
Was the instant and panicked reaction.

“Shh,” he whispered and kissed my cheek, trailing his lips lightly to my jaw, pressing them feather light there too, before moving again, this time to the throbbing pulse point in the side of my neck, that sweet spot that had me sucking in a sharp breath. He paused and flicked out his tongue lightly over the spot causing me to gasp.

“Hmm, right there, huh?” he asked and deepened his kiss in the same place. I closed my eyes and felt my body relax marginally.

The next kiss he pressed to my chest, his hands smoothing their way up from where they’d been fastened to my hips, rounding to the front of my body, my stomach, where he started to push up the camisole I wore. My hands jerked to his and I pushed them away.

“Don’t,” I said on a sharp inhale.

“Why not?” he demanded, freezing in place, his gaze boring into mine.

“I don’t look like I used to,” I said uncomfortably and he tipped his head to the side, his hands beginning their slow ascent to move the material out of the way. I felt tears gather at the corners of my eyes and he frowned down at me.

“This body did something amazing,” he murmured. “This body did something mine could never do,” he looked down and pushed the material out of the way. He smiled then, a slow smile full of appreciation and genuine awe. I was frozen and confused, he placed a gentle kiss against the cesarean scar and murmured: “This body carried my son and gave him life, nourished him; allowed him to draw breath and come into this world.”

Archer raised his eyes to mine and said, “This body,
your
body, is beautiful to me. Dressed in these ribbons,” he licked a wet line up one of the stretchmarks I found to be so ugly, “of sheer perfection… I love this body. Not only for what it’s done for me by giving me a son, but for what it
will
do for me, by giving me another, or for giving me a beautiful daughter. I swore to you today that I was going to love, honor and cherish you. In front of my brothers, in front of my president, and that’s just what I’m going to do. You see imperfection, I see life. I see something that, again, I could never do. I see strength, I see courage, and I admire you for it. This is my truth, this is my reality, and I really hope that you can get on board with that.”

His words devastated me in all of the right ways. I felt my walls and my fear crumble beneath the weighted gaze he held me pinned with. The only motion I could manage was the gentle rise and fall of my continued breathing as I stared in stunned silence. Tears slipped down my temples and cheeks of their own volition and when he realized I would make no further move to resist him, that I was capable of no further protest, he carried on with what he wanted to do; which as of right now was kissing all over my stomach. He kept on with those gentle, feather light caresses of his silken lips against my flesh which grew heated, awakening after its long dormancy.

The last man to touch me had been Grinder, and I was shocked to find that his much coarser brother touched me with more care and consideration than Grinder
ever
had. I didn’t quite know what to do with that except to watch, fascinated, as he drew the beautiful satin and lace shorts down my legs, his fingertips skimming my flesh, leaving trails of tingling sparks in their wake.

My mind may have rebelled against the thought of Archer touching me, against the idea of doing anything remotely sexual with him, but he’d eased my fears and had taken the very edge off my concerns with his carefully chosen words. My mind was warming up to the idea of having him touch me like this, but my body didn’t seem to care what my mind thought about it anymore.

My body certainly seemed to have a mind of its very own and it was all about having Archer’s lips on my skin. It liked it very much, thank you, and it showed it’s appreciation for the attention by arching of its own volition very much
into
Archer’s touch. I could feel him, hard and pressed against my throbbing pussy and I couldn’t believe how much I ached to have him inside me. I wasn’t sure I could completely chalk that up to biology, either.

He grasped the hem of my camisole and raised it up over my head. I lifted my arms to allow him to take it, feeling much bolder now that he’d made his position about the marks my body bore clear. He went back to kissing across my chest, exploring my skin, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth and tugging at it gently between his teeth all the while his green and gold eyes speared into the heart of mine.

He was so incredibly warm to the touch, and I let my hands do some of their own exploring, running them gently over his shoulders, tracing a weal of scar along his ribs, tiny pinpricks of white scar tissue riding above and below the rough mark where the wound had been crudely stitched back together.