Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(108)
“So, falafel and broccoli on your pizza?” he asked, with a trace of a smile.
“Never. Tomato, green peppers and mushrooms. Olives, if you insist.”
“I’ll put them on my half.” He pulled her closer, and she nestled her face in his neck. “I love you,” he murmured. “You were amazing tonight.”
He’d given her the confidence to embrace amazing, to be amazing. To be exactly who she was, and strive to always be better, not just for him, but for herself as well. She’d loved doing this tonight, she realized, and she’d had only one or two whispers from the darkness of her past, whispers she’d pushed down and dissipated.
She’d never regret her life with Cole. First, because it had given her the gift of Kyle. Second, because that was the path that had led her to Jon. However, she thought… No, she knew. If that life had repeated itself, the woman she was now wouldn’t have let Cole reduce her to the belief that she was nothing, a failure, or wrong, because she desired something from a partner he couldn’t understand.
She could tell Jon things she wanted and didn’t want, the dreams she had and goals she wished to pursue. Not because he would always agree with her, but because she trusted that their connection came from the heart, and any paths they took separately would still be connected by that.
It was as she’d declared earlier to those ghosts of the past. She knew what love was now. She’d never forget it again.
Matt let himself in through the kitchen door and re-set the security alarm. A light had been left on over the sink, giving their spacious kitchen a dim, welcoming glow. He saw a glass cake cover set out on the counter. When he approached it, a smile touched his lips.
Two large sea salt caramel chocolate chunk walnut cookies were beneath it, his favorite flavor from their local bakery. Savannah had left a note beside them in her flowing script. “I ate one, but these two are for you.”
As he withdrew one of the cookies, he took a bite and opened the fridge. Another smile as he saw the glass of milk she’d left him, already prepared.
She and Cass had planned a girls’ night at the house, which he suspected had a dual purpose. One, the two women enjoyed one another’s company, close friends even among their already tightly knit group with Dana and Rachel. Two, they knew the plan for tonight. Though both women understood and had experienced something similar themselves, he expected that it might be helpful to be with one another, reinforcing and reminding each other of that bond, what it meant. And what it didn’t mean.
Not for the first time, he realized how extraordinary the four women were that they’d found for their equally unique brotherhood. He imagined hanging out with Lucas while Savannah and Cass were off executing a guy-guy fantasy. Since the very thought made him think about murder, he decided he wanted to go see his wife here and now. He wanted to let her know, if she even had a whisper of doubt, who the woman was who centered his vast universe.
As he passed through the living room, the light thrown by a dim lamp showed him two glasses and an empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table. He was glad of it. At an earlier time in her adult life, Savannah never would have left a glass on the coffee table to pick up in the morning. Now she could allow herself to occasionally be lazy in the comfort of her own home. Comfort being the vital word.
This home was theirs together. They’d bought it soon after they married. She’d gotten rid of the mansion she’d shared with her father until that bastard’s death. He’d sold his townhouse near the business district, in favor of them making a home together, a sprawling farmhouse-styled place on several acres.
He went up the stairs to their bedroom. To the right of the master was another bedroom, recently his office, with a connecting door to the master. They’d relocated his office to another room and, since then, Savannah had been collecting odd, whimsical pieces of furniture and bric-a-brac for this one. Though she hadn’t tempted fate by buying the things that outright screamed nursery, like a crib, he knew that was where her mind was.
He liked the idea of making a baby with her, though they hadn’t had any luck yet, and neither of them were in favor of fertility treatments. They wanted it to happen if it was going to happen. If it didn’t, at a certain point, they’d adopt. They’d do that even if they did conceive, giving the baby adopted siblings. Blood didn’t make a family. She knew that better than anyone.
And while he loved the idea of children, that wasn’t the top thing in his mind tonight. Not after several hours of exposure to the explosively sexual performance he’d witnessed. Every erotic moment had made him look forward even more to this. His cock had settled down during pizza and conversation, but seeing Rachel and Dana curled naked and docile in their Doms’ arms had kept it on full alert, to put it mildly. Now, as he stood at the doorway to their bedroom, done in soft whites and silver grays, their mahogany canopy bed partially curtained with drapes of gauzy silk, he was aroused to rigid fullness just by inhaling Savannah’s scent.
His wife. His soulmate. His submissive. His, in a primitive way he never denied, though he was able to—most of the time—cloak it in a way acceptable to the modern world. It had been an intriguing experience for all of them tonight, seeing that same ferocity come from Jon a couple times, when he felt the need to assert himself as Rachel’s Master in a situation where so many other males were involved. Even males he trusted as much as they all did one another.