With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(33)

He insisted (a bit more firmly).

She gave in.

Fortunately, this was relatively easy considering he was busy with the fires. This tugged at her heartstrings as she remembered her father doing the same thing. He was always at the fires in order to keep his family warm when they were at the cabin. In the bathroom, she had changed into one of her lacy, sexy, silky nightgowns and slid into bed before he’d gotten a glimpse of her.

Unfortunately, after he changed in the bathroom and walked out wearing nothing but a pair of navy flannel pajama bottoms, she got a full on view of his chest. His massive, defined, muscular chest, complete with a furring of hair that was spread in a tempting array across his chest and down his belly. Chest hair that only the hand of God could have created after which, God could only remark, “My work here is done.” Callum’s chest hair was just… that… perfect.

Really, the cosmos had it out for her.

He’d slid into bed beside her and she was certain his big body would take most of the space (it didn’t, she had a nice, comfy section all her own).

He called a soft goodnight to which she’d replied in turn.

Then she held herself tense waiting for him to try something.

He didn’t.

He lay on his back and she listened as his breathing grew steady.

It took a while but finally Sonia fell asleep.

Unfortunately when she woke up, she found he’d turned his back to her but she’d turned into him and was spooning him all down his length. Close to his length. Her knees cocked in his, her h*ps snuggled in his, her arm around his waist, her torso against his back but her forehead was pressed to his shoulder blade.

She started to pull away. Before she could succeed in this, however, his fingers curled around her wrist and kept her where she was.

“I, um… need to go to the bathroom,” she told the smoothly muscled skin of his back.

He released her wrist but rolled, she scooted back to avoid his big body but before she could scoot out of reach, his arm tagged her waist and he pulled her mostly underneath him.

Her eyes caught his and his were tawny.

Good goodness, but she liked it when his eyes went tawny (even though she told herself she didn’t).

“Look forward to waking up like that every day, baby doll,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with sleep.

Sonia gulped.

Callum smiled.

Her heart clutched at his smile.

His head dropped down and to the side, he rubbed his temple against hers and then he let her go.

That day couldn’t have been more different than the one before.

They did not fight.

They ate way too much and way too fatty foods.

They talked. About his father, her father and the fact they’d been long-time friends (supposedly). About his kingdom which, apparently, was world-wide and included armies and territories which were overseen by governors and all sorts of other stuff.

Seriously, he had a vivid imagination. It was fascinating but it was insane.

Though, deep down, the more he talked and the pride and fondness in his voice made her want to believe this world was real.

And he talked about her queendom. Essentially, she had nothing to do except the small duties of being at his side all the time and supporting him in everything he wished to do.

Even though she asked, he said they’d get into “the war” later.

Most of the talking happened while they were cuddling, either Sonia sitting in his lap or both of them stretched on the couch with Sonia in his arms.

Indeed, his informing her that his people were “affectionate” was an understatement. He was the touchiest person she’d ever met.

Gregor, nor Yuri, touched, hugged or cuddled. They were often coolly affectionate but not in any physical way.

But with Callum, even when they weren’t cuddling he found ways to touch her. Like while she was cooking, he’d get close, put a hand to her waist and look over her shoulder at the food she was preparing. Or when she was playing solitaire on his computer, he walked up behind her, wrapped his arm around her chest, pulled her back to his front and held her there for long moments before bending, rubbing his temple against hers and letting her go.

He never said anything. He just touched.

He was, all day, as he promised, entirely different – patient and tender, sometimes teasing and sweet.

Especially when he gave her the injection. His reaction was no less severe and her reaction to his soothing embrace was no less deep.

Obviously, since he did have men (he, again, talked to them on the phone often that day and she’d even met the cheeky but deferential Waring), she decided he was a leader of a cult or something. Somehow, he’d locked onto her as his “mate” and, being the leader, had convinced his people she was their queen.

They had resources. That was also obvious. Even small as it was, her family’s cabin was outfitted spectacularly. His and her clothes were outdoorsy but they were of an excellent brand and very high quality. His cell phone and computer were top of the line. The kitchen was not only stocked to the gills, everything in it was the finest you could buy – from the appliances, to the utensils, pots and pans even the food.

She didn’t believe a word he said about her father but she reckoned, in his loopy mind, he did.

It was sad that this glorious man was obviously not well.

But it was scary that, as the day progressed, something was telling her she didn’t care.