Page 13 of Autumn be His Wife
As much as they enjoy the conversation, Piper has to reel him in to doing his work instead of distracting himself.
Surprisingly enough, he listens to her. Thankfully, with my attention in front of me, neither can see the awe on my face.
Once math is finished, so are the dishes. Not wanting to interrupt this success with homework, I continue cleaning as they move onto reading.
Somewhere between wiping off the stove and cleaning up the crumbs on the counter, I hear Eli’s soft voice as his attention derails again.
“Can I have my room back?” His voice is so soft, but hardly enough to miss as he whispers the question to her. “Dad snores too loudly. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Knowing him, he must not want to hurt my feelings. That’s why this is news to me.
Just as I turn to look behind my shoulder, Piper lifts her gaze to look over at me. Her brows are lifted, her lips parted. For a moment, she seems at a loss for words.
“Um, yeah. Of course. I don’t want to be the reason behind you not getting sleep.” Her smile seems forced, but she’s trying to keep her voice sweet for him.
“We can swap.” Eli beams, utterly clueless to the dangerous ground he’s treading on as he forgets all about whispering. “Give me a break, and then you can have my room for a couple more days.”
He looks so proud of himself, like he’s just solved world peace. But my gaze isn’t on him. It’s locked on Piper.
I watch the blush bloom across her cheeks, a delicate, heated flush that travels down her neck and makes my fingers twitch with the need to feel its warmth.
Her eyes dart to me, wide and searching, as if I hold some answer to the sudden, dizzying tension in the room.
I have an answer, alright. The image that forms in my head is instantaneous, unbidden, and devastating. Her. In my bed. Not just sleeping. Curled at my side. Her head on my pillow, her hair fanned out, smelling of sunshine and that faint, sweet scent that’s uniquely her. The dip of the mattress under her weight, the soft sound of her breathing in the dark, the heat of her body a brand against mine.
The sheer force of the fantasy steals the air from my lungs. I know what I want. I want it with a desperation that aches in my bones. But the thought of her feeling pressured, cornered, of that soft light in her eyes dimming with awkwardness—it’s a cold splash of reality.
The ache in my chest sharpens into something fierce. The last thing I want is for her to feel so out of place that she thinks of leaving. The mere idea is a physical pain, a fist closing around my heart.
My voice is a low rumble, a forced calm to smother the fire inside. “I can give you my bed, Eli. I’ll sleep on the couch if it’s that bad.”
Eli’s face crumples into a frown. “That couch is terrible,” he argues, a child’s logic frustrated by an adult’s complication.
Piper worries her plump bottom lip between her teeth, like she’s considering the trade. The air hangs thick, charged with everything unsaid.
Then her voice, soft but clear, slices through his agitation and my internal war. “I don’t mind trading.” She pauses, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. “If you don’t, I mean.”
The stirring in my chest doesn’t just travel; it plummets, a molten heat coiling deep in my gut. For a second, my head spins and I get dizzy.
“It’s fine.” Turning back to the counter, I feel the heat creeping up my throat. “I hope you don’t kick around as much as he does when he sleeps.”
“I don’t kick!” Huffing at the claim, he soon sighs. “We can figure out when to swap later. If you only last a day, I don’t blame you.”
Her laugh makes my body tingle, and I have to manually move my arms as I clean to hold back from turning back to see what kind of expression is on her face.
Is she willing to swap because she feels obligated?
Or could she actually want to?
I’m left haunted by that question for the next few hours. When Piper is moving her luggage into my room, I still don’t have an answer. Not when she slips away to take a shower, or when I do the same.
Just thinking about her curled up in my sheets has me stroking my cock while I’m meant to be shampooing my hair.
I need to get this hunger out of my system before I’m left alone with her. While I might know the difference of what’s right and wrong, my body doesn’t give a damn.
When I leave the bathroom, I find her in the living room. She’s curled on my couch, a silhouette against the glow of the fireplace embers. Knees drawn tight to her chest, eyes fixed on the dying fire, but seeing something miles away.
I notice her silky pajamas first, trailing along the glowing light bouncing off the pink fabric. Looks soft to the touch, just as much as she does.
