“Don’t move.”

I settled because there was a command to his voice, but it was different. It was like the way he said “hey” except more. A lot more. I stayed where I was, eyes glued to him, feeling funny in a way so good, it was absofuckingmazing good.

When he just stood there, his eyes moving over me, I asked softly, “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

His eyes came to mine. His body slanted to the side so his shoulder was resting against the post and he replied, “You, just like that, any man would fight and die for the privilege of comin’ home to that every day.”

My breath left me in a soft, audible “oof”, like Spot had jumped up on my chest.

Raiden wasn’t done.

“Better, she accepts you just as you are, then makes a special coffeecake with apples and doesn’t skimp on the streusel, which is the best part. All that to celebrate you givin’ her your trust and her givin’ hers right back to you.”

Tears crawled up my throat and started clawing the backs of my eyes, so my voice was husky when I whispered, “Raiden.”

“And you know, she learned at the hand of Miss Mildred, the chicken in the oven is gonna rock your world.”

It totally was. Grams taught me everything she knew, but my Mom was also no slouch in the kitchen.

“Please stop talking,” I begged.

He didn’t.

“Fight and die for that privilege, Hanna.”

I swallowed back tears then warned, “If you don’t shut up, you’re going to make me cry.”

Raiden shut up, but didn’t move. He just stood there staring at me.

So I asked what I was going to ask before, “Honey, do you want a beer?”

“I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

He pushed away from the post and walked into the house.

I did not find the courage to talk to him about my concerns about our morning conversation.

No, the truth was that sharing my concerns didn’t once enter my mind.

* * * * *

That night…

Raiden was back on his calves, his h*ps powering up. I was straddling him, back to his front, his arms around me, his hands moving everywhere.

I was unraveling.

His hand slid down then glided across my belly, and not even thinking about it, my hand covered his and slid it up.

Taking mine with it, his slid back down to my belly.

I slid it up.

His hand stilled then glided to my side, down and in. My hand still over his, I felt his middle finger press in, circle. His h*ps surged up, he filled me, my head flew back, a moan drifted up my throat and I shot to pieces.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later…

Naked in Raiden’s arms, I cuddled closer, my eyes drooping, sleep close.

“What was that?” his voice rumbled into me.

“Sorry?” I murmured.

“With your belly, baby.”

I blinked into the dark, suddenly not sleepy in the slightest. “Uh… sorry?”

“Want all-access, Hanna. You got some issues with me touchin’ your stomach?”

Oh God.

“Um…” I mumbled then said no more.

Raiden’s body tensed then pressed into mine so I was on my back and his shadow was looming over me.

Then he grunted, “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Do not wanna ask this shit, but did some f**kwad do somethin’ fucked with your stomach?”

I was baffled by this question so I repeated, “What?”

“Babe, you don’t want it, we won’t do it, but like I said, I want all-access and that might include me comin’ on you. Is that gonna be an issue for you?”

I didn’t answer. My mind was filled with Raiden coming on me, and how if he did that I’d get to watch, and how I kind of wanted to do that immediately.

“Hanna,” he called.

“What?” I answered distractedly.

His hand came up and cupped my jaw. “Honey, talk to me,” he urged gently.

God, he was being sweet and he totally had the wrong end of the stick.

So I found myself blurting, “I have a pouch.”

I watched the shadow of his head twitch and he asked, “You have a what?”

This was not fun in any way.

But I couldn’t have him thinking some “fuckwad” did something “fucked” to my stomach.

“I, um… well, am not exactly toned there like you’re, well… toned… or more like cut, well… everywhere.”

“So?”

I blinked into the dark.

“So?” I repeated.

“Yeah, so?” he asked.

I didn’t know what to do with that question so I remained silent.

Raiden didn’t.

He asked strangely, “Are you shitting me?”

I didn’t know what do to do with that question either. What I did know was I wasn’t shitting him, though I also didn’t know what he thought I was shitting him about.

“Well, no,” I answered, and suddenly his shadow was gone and the bed swayed because his big body landed on its back beside mine.

“Jesus, women are so f**kin’ whacked,” he informed the ceiling.

I pulled the covers up to my chest, lifted up on an elbow and twisted his way.

“Sorry?”

I felt his eyes on me in the dark. “Babe, guys like pu**y,” he declared.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“A woman’s gotta smell good and she needs to take care of herself. By that I mean, she’s gotta wash her hair, shave her legs and work it, whatever it is she’s workin’. Her clothes, the way she does up her face, the way she moves, it doesn’t f**kin’ matter. She does that and has a sweet pu**y, a guy does not give a f**k and gets off on whatever wraps that package.”

I wasn’t sure that made me feel better and I communicated this by saying a disbelieving, “All right.”

Raiden got up on his elbow to face me, his arm moving to wrap around my waist and haul my lower body against his.

“That’s not entirely true,” he carried on. “Some guys like big tits, some guys don’t give a shit about tits and like a round ass. Some want long legs. Some want short women they can protect or feel like they can dominate. But brass tacks, it’s about the pu**y.”

I was sure this didn’t make me feel better, therefore I asked, “So essentially, if it’s female, a man will sleep with it?”