The Wife Protectors: Giles (Six Men of Alaska Book 2)

by Charlie Hart

  So later, when he drifts into sleep, and I slip the robe back on and quietly exit his room, I don’t feel like a prisoner.

  I feel like his wife.

  The house is quiet, the lights are dim, and while I want to check on Giles, my stomach growls and I know I need to take care of myself.

  The kitchen is empty when I enter it, and I pull out bread and butter, gathering what I need to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Comfort food.

  I turn on the gas burner and slice some cheese when Huxley walks in with a bruised look on his face.

  “You cooking without me?” His words are meant to be playful, but I hear the tension within. He still hasn’t really forgiven me for running.

  I give a smile. “You hungry?”

  “Starved. Work has been a bitch.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He leans on the counter beside me and tilts his head. “You want to spill your secrets?”

  “Point taken.”

  A small grunt is his reply.

  I make us both grilled cheese sandwiches, and we sit in relative silence as we eat. Huxley’s clear blue eyes are watching, studying me. I want to ask him about himself. About his family. I really don’t know much about him other than the shady business he runs. But if I start asking questions then he might too.

  He takes the plates and puts them in the sink. When I move to start to clean them, he comes up behind me and says, “Leave them, it’s late. I’ll do them in the morning.”

  “You mean Emerson will wash them,” I joke since we both know that the man can’t stand a dirty dish in the sink.

  That has Huxley chuckling.

  I turn around and meet his smile, which almost immediately turns into a frown.

  “Are you ever going to forgive me?” I ask, hating the tension between us.

  “It’s not about forgiveness, Tia,” he says, taking a step towards me, removing the distance between us.

  He doesn’t touch me, but the heat between us is palpable.

  “Then what do you want?” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, and his gaze drops.

  A low growl vibrates in his throat and he drags his fingers through his hair. “You make it very difficult to stay upset with you.”

  I place my hands on his chest, feeling the muscles ripple under his shirt. “Then don’t be.”

  His hands dive into my hair. Moments pass and his mouth crashes down on mine. He kisses me hard, his tongue demanding as his fingers roam down my body, pushing the material away. He wants me. I can feel his erection pressing hard against my hip, and even though I know that this won’t fix anything, I want to give it to him.

  My core aches with the need to be filled with him, to feel that small amount of acceptance again. I tug at his belt, unbuckling it quickly, and shoving his pants down, just enough that I have access to his cock.

  He groans when I take it in my hand. But there are no moments of tenderness, just lust. Need. Lifting me up so that I’m resting on the edge of the counter, he buries himself inside me in one hard thrust.

  I gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he fills me, then pulls back thrusting harder. Everything about it is fast and desperate, and it isn’t long before I’m clenching around him in agonizing pleasure.

  “Hux,” I cry out, not caring that any of my husbands could walk in on us.

  “Fuck, Tia,” he cries out as he spills himself inside of me, the liquid heat of his pleasure warming my thighs when he slowly pulls back.

  He holds me for a few seconds, long enough for my legs to regain feeling, then lifts me down so that my feet touch the floor, and he straightens my robe, before fixing himself.

  One kiss on my forehead is all the affection I get. But at this moment, it’s enough.

  Chapter 13

  Giles

  Tia didn’t come to me last night or the night before, and in a way, I’m glad because I feel like complete shit. My arm has been healing fine. I almost have full use of it now. But my leg hurts like the devil himself pissed on it.

  And I’m so sick and tired of Banks treating me like a fucking invalid.

  Normally I’m pretty even-tempered, but I feel like I could match Fallon in moodiness. For the past couple of days, I’ve been snapping at everyone, including Tia.

  I limp to my bathroom and stare at my reflection. A fresh bead of sweat dots my brow, and my skin looks pasty and clammy, my eyes dark and sunken. I’d say it was because I toss and turn all night, but it’s more than that.

  Turning on the tap, I splash some water on my face, trying to wake up. But I can’t push past the fatigue that weighs on me.

  There’s a knock on my door.

  “What?”

  Banks comes in, carrying fresh bandages and disinfectant spray. “You’ve been moving around too much.”

  “I’m fine.” I use the crutches he got from the hospital and make it back to my bed.

  He raises a brow at me, then orders, “I want to take a look at the leg again. It looked like it might be getting infected yesterday.”

  “Said, I’m fine.” I limp back to the bed. “I can dress my own damn wounds.”

  “I really think-”

  “You want to help me, then get me something stronger than acetaminophen and codeine.”

  “Anything stronger and you run the risk of getting hooked. The pain should be subsiding by now.”

  I take the bandages from him and toss them beside me on the bed. “It’s not.”

  “Let me take a look-”

  “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  He sighs and nods. “I’ll check on you when I get back. But you need to let me know if there’s any sign of infection.”

  I glare at the door when it shuts. My heart feels like it’s beating a hundred beats per minute, and no matter how hard I try to calm it, it doesn’t stop.

  Unbuckling my belt, I start to take my pants off to clean the wounds on my leg when there’s another knock on the door.

  “I’m busy.”

  “Giles?” Tia says on the other side, and I can hear the concern in her voice. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, and she pushes open the door. She looks fucking gorgeous, bright-eyed like she got plenty of beauty sleep. Or maybe it’s more than that, maybe one of her husbands satisfied her all night long.

  I’m not jealous, at least that’s what I tell myself. And I know I’m in no position to sleep with Tia right now. I’m glad she doesn't have to be alone, and that the other men can meet her needs.

  Still, it’s a tough pill to swallow and it’s going to take some getting used to. And being stuck in this room is only making me think the worst of everyone in this house. If Tia isn’t who she says she is, who else is lying?

  “Are you hungry?” she asks, walking to my bed with fresh sheets in her arms.

  “I’m fine.” I run a hand over my beard and try not to think about her with anyone else.

  Fallon is supposed to be the jealous one, not me.

  She stands here in a tight white sweater, so tight I see her nipples on display. She has on dark jeans that hug her ass. Her fingernails are painted a neutral shade, but I glance down and see her toes are bright red.

  Damn, she looks sexy as fuck.

  “You look uncomfortable,” she says, concern flashing in her eyes.

  I try to adjust my growing cock without drawing attention, but it’s useless. She sees my hard on and the corner of her mouth lifts.

  “I was coming in to change the sheets, but maybe we should play a bit first?”

  The idea sounds fucking glorious, but my body is a wreck right now. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than that first day, but I do now. And it takes all my strength to fall back on the bed and groan in agony.

  “Rain check,” I say, embarrassed that I can’t give my wife what she needs. My body feels flushed and I have the urge to just close my eyes, sleep the day away, and hopefully the pain.

  “Oh,” she says with surprise. “Okay. No
, that’s fine. I just thought.” She shakes her head, smiling at me. “Never mind.”

  “Never mind what?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Nothing. I just want to make you feel better. Can I help move you to the armchair, so I can change the bedding?”

  “I got it.” I swing my good leg over the edge of the bed, then lift my other leg slowly, lowering it to the floor. The movement is simple but a sharp slice of pain rushes through me.

  Grimacing, I refuse to ask Tia for anything more. She’s already done everything.

  I reach for the crutches, but they fall over as my hand touches them. “Fuck,” I groan.

  “It’s fine, Giles, I’m right here.” Tia walks to my side of the bed and leans over, picking them up.

  “It’s not fucking fine. I can do it myself.”

  “No, you can’t,” she huffs. “You need help.”

  “What if I don’t want help?”

  As she bends, I can see straight down her sweater. My wife isn’t wearing a bra. Fucking-A, is she trying to kill me?

  Her tits look so full and delicious, and all I can picture is me straddling her, running my cock between her two perfect breasts. Pushing them together as I ride her tits until I come all over them.

  God, I need a cold fucking shower, except I can’t have one, nothing but a damn sponge bath until this wound heals. Both Banks and Tia have already given me hell for having showers, and I wonder if they’re right, if I didn’t make my wounds worse by soaking them in water.

  “I’m just trying to help.” She stands and hands me the crutches and her scowl is the cold shower I was thinking of. “And you’re being kind of a jerk to everyone. I heard you with Banks earlier. You aren’t being very grateful.”

  “Grateful? God, give me a minute to be upset.” I use the crutches to move to the armchair. I sink into it, exhausted from the few steps it took to move. I pull my leg up onto the ottoman in front of it, and grunt as the bandage rubs against my wound. I know it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

  “It’s been two weeks. And at first everyone was giving you space, but you insist on being irritated with all the men. I wish you’d try, Giles.”

  I scoff. “I’m pissed at them for being pissed at you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to fight my battles.”

  “Oh really?” I snort.

  Her face turns stony. She’s pissed at me, and that’s not something I’ve experienced before. I watched her fume over Fallon’s commands and roll her eyes in irritation at Banks’ lack of empathy but she has never been upset with me.

  She’s only ever seen me as her protector, her comforter, her lover. But not her enemy.

  “I never asked you to save my life,” she says coldly. “I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

  “Don’t you dare talk like that.”

  Her eyes well up with tears. “How do you want me to talk? You know I feel awful about what happened. You think I like coming in here and seeing the wounds on your body that my choices caused? Do you have any idea how terrible I feel over that?”

  “Not so awful that you won’t fuck your other husbands instead of facing me.” It’s a cheap shot, and I feel like shit for letting the words fall from my mouth. But I’m not thinking straight right now. I’m taking all my anger out on her and it’s not fair for a thousand reasons. But I do it anyways, hating myself as I do.

  “Damn it, Giles. I’m facing you right now. Right. Now. I’m here. And you’re not my only husband. I have to make sure five other men are all right; make sure five other men have their sexual needs met. That five other men feel like they have a wife.”

  I clench my jaw. “Then you should go. God knows I don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

  Her outrage is palpable.

  “How dare you,” she says, her face filled with disappointment. Disappointment in me.

  I ball a hand into a fist and punch my palm, so angry with myself. For the way I’m treating her, for the pain I’m in, for the mess our entire family is in. We’re all trying so hard to keep Tia sheltered from the reality of the situation, but she’s smart. She understands what’s going to happen if the police knock on our door.

  But God knows, I won’t let the police take my wife.

  The Lottery already took the life of one woman I loved.

  She shakes her head, tears spilling on her cheeks. “Why are you being like this?”

  “You should go,” I tell her flatly, unable to look in her wounded eyes. I don’t deserve her in my arms right now, not after I’ve lashed out at her.

  She deserves a different man to console her, God knows she has plenty of them.

  “I don’t know why you’re being so mean to me.” Her voice is quiet and fragile.

  I did that to her.

  Just add it to the list of ways I’ve hurt her today.

  She stifles a sob and drops the sheets on the bed, turning away, leaving my room.

  I want to call for her. To apologize. To fix what I broke.

  But she’s gone and I’m not the man she thought I was.

  The man I wanted to be.

  I’m wounded. And sick. And if trouble comes, I won’t be able to protect my wife.

  Chapter 14

  Tia

  I don’t go back to Giles’ room after our fight, until later that night. I know I should be more understanding, he’s hurting, and I know he’s frustrated with his limitations.

  But he’s alienating everyone.

  I knock, but there’s no answer. Worried, since he didn’t come down for dinner, I open the door a crack and glance in. His large frame is stretched out on the bed, and his eyes are closed.

  With a sigh, I shut the door again, knowing he needs his rest. Maybe he’ll wake up in a better mood.

  “How’s he doing?” Emerson asks, coming out of his own bedroom. His long hair is down and hangs in waves just past his shoulders.

  My lion.

  I give him a small smile. “I really don’t know. He’s been so irritable.”

  “Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve noticed.”

  I glance back at Giles’ door. “He didn’t eat anything tonight. Maybe I should wake him up.”

  “Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to wake a sleeping bear?” he asks playfully.

  “I never knew my mom,” I say quietly, still pensive from worrying about Giles. “She died giving birth to me.”

  “Shit, Tia. Sorry. I didn’t know.”

  I take his hands. “You’re lucky that you still have both your parents. I’d love to meet them one day. Especially your mom. From what you’ve told me, she seems like an incredible woman. And I want to thank her in person for the recipe book she sent. It’s been a lifesaver.”

  “I know she’ll love you.”

  I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “At least one person will be in my corner.”

  “Hey, Tia,” he says softly. “Don’t be like that. You know that’s not true.”

  I sigh, meeting his gaze. “I need to fix this mess,” I tell him. “But I don’t know how.”

  He twists his lips. “It’s easy to get lost in the weeds. But the big picture is you have six husbands who will go to bat for you.”

  I shake my head. “Right, because look how good it worked out for Giles. It’s my fault he’s in so much pain.”

  Emerson isn’t having it. “No. Wolves got to Giles. Not you. Look, maybe you didn’t grow up with two parents who loved you, so maybe you missed a few chapters on family dynamics. But families don’t quit when things get hard.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “I’ve read psychology books, Em. I get it.”

  He shakes his head, looking at me with such sad eyes. “Tia, I don’t think you do. You can’t find your answers in a textbook. Maybe Banks thinks you can, but I think problems are solved when people talk. When they open up. When they learn to trust.”

  “This isn’t about trust.”

  He smiles, looking at me as if I hav
en’t a clue about a single thing. And maybe I don’t.

  “I’m not going to lecture you, Tia. I’m not that guy. But I do want to challenge you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Give us a chance. Give this marriage a chance.”

  I hear him and even though I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, a large part of me understands what he’s saying. If I want this relationship to work, I need to be honest.

  Maybe I can lace my words with hidden meaning… so they can still be safe. Maybe we can have both.

  “Don’t do that,” Emerson says, laughing.

  “What?”

  “Get in your head. Live here. In the present. With me.”

  He pulls me against his chest and we stand there for a few minutes, lost in our thoughts, finding comfort in the warmth of our embrace.

  “Right now,” I sigh against his solid frame, “the present feels pretty good.”

  “Right?” He kisses the top of my head. “Our life can be as good as we want it to be.”

  I want to hold onto those words - not the other thousand thoughts rushing through my head. Getting caught. Or getting pregnant. Childbirth. Disease. Death.

  It’s all too much. But when I’m with Emerson it’s like I’m given a hall pass into a world where those worries are at bay. He lives in a fantasy where families who love one another, stay together and get their happily ever after.

  Maybe it’s not the worst place to live.

  “Can I stay with you tonight?” I mumble against his chest.

  “As long as you don’t steal my keycard and wander out in the middle of the night.”

  I tense in his arms.

  He pulls back and cups my jaw, a grin lifting his lips. “I was just trying to be funny. I guess I should leave the jokes to Huxley and Salinger.”

  I smile lightly. “I don’t think I ever really apologized to you for that. I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” He kisses me lightly. “Just like I know you won’t ever leave again.”

  “I won’t.”