A Wise Investment: Arranged Marriage Romance

by Rocklyn Ryder

  I notice his fists clench and unclench at his sides and I realize his hands are every bit as big as the rest of him. And so are his feet. The heavy duty leather boots on his feet must have to be special ordered.

  I'm not thinking about his cock. I'm not thinking about his cock. I. Am. Not! Thinking about his cock.

  Damn those relaxed fit khakis that don't help a girl out.

  My nieces picked this man for me. And his friends picked me for him.

  I swallow hard and force a smile. The matching process was a long one. It took almost an entire year from the time I turned in Raven's application. I came all the way to Critter Something, Alaska to meet this man-- no. To marry this man. Damn that's suddenly a lot harder to wrap my mind around.

  And speaking of wrapping things around things, I wonder if my hand...Get your mind out of the gutter, Dorthy, I tell myself, as if it's going to help. Seriously, what's a girl to think when she comes face to face with a man this big? I mean, did these people even consider the fact that he's like 7 feet tall and I'm 5 foot 1...and a half?

  I pull myself up as tall as I possibly can. I need that extra half inch to show right now, dammit!

  "You must be Barrett?" I pray my knees don't collapse on me as I walk forward and hold out my hand to the man that's gawking at me like I'm the first woman he's ever seen.

  The man clears his throat nervously and I notice his eyes dart between the others in the room before landing back on mine. He holds out his hand and takes mine.

  I'm surprised by how gentle his grip is even as I watch in a combination of fascination and horror as my hand disappears in his. But he doesn't squeeze too hard. His hand is warm and his skin is surprisingly soft, with just a hint of rough callous along the heel where it rubs against the outer edge of my hand.

  I can't help but wonder what his hands would feel like on my body. Would he touch all of me as gently as he's holding my hand right now? Would he touch me roughly?

  This is no time for my body to act like it wants to find out. I'm glad I'm wearing a bra with padded cups so no one can see how hard my nipples are getting.

  "Dorthy," he smiles as he says my name. His deep voice vibrates through me. It suits him well, but it's quieter than I expected. It does things to me and even though he only uttered my name, the space between my legs just heard, "let me make you come," which is something that's starting to sound more and more appealing.

  This close to him I can see his lips beneath the mustache, full and firm and I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to kiss him.

  And he smells good too, dammit. Like the air outside, woodsy and clean with a hint of spice that I can't place.

  I'll give this a shot. I tell myself as he allows my hand to slip from his. I'll stay for a few days, maybe a week, and see how this goes. Raven offers a guarantee if this doesn't work out. I'm not committed yet.

  "We're gonna get the grill going," I hear Rogue's voice in my ears, "you kids want to hang out and get to know each other? Or you wanna be on burger duty?"

  I suddenly feel silly standing here ogling this stranger in Rogue and Melissa's living room. I'm sure I'm not being very discreet about the things running through my head either.

  Prying my eyes off of Barrett, I start to volunteer to help with dinner prep.

  "Don't be ridiculous!" Melissa gives me a look that tells me I'm not to even think about going in the kitchen.

  "You are going to bring some beers out on the patio for Bear and Dot, and they are going to sit out there and enjoy some privacy while the rest of us get things ready to go on the grill." She's telling Rogue the plan as she walks into the kitchen but he's already filling a small ice chest with beers from the refrigerator.

  "Let me get that," I say as I take a step toward the beer cooler.

  "I got it," Barrett's voice booms from above my head and he's got the cooler in one hand with his other on my back, aiming me out the patio door to the deck before I can say another word.

  The hand on my back settles gently between my shoulder blades and warmth radiates from his palm all the way down my spine where it settles between my legs in a decidedly damp but thrilling way.

  "Sorry," he mumbles almost shyly as he sets the cooler down on the outside table and reaches for a can of light beer, "Would you rather have wine?"

  His eyes fall away from mine as he nervously pops open on can, "Or maybe something else? Rogue keeps a pretty well stocked bar, I could make ya a cocktail or somethin'? Like a cosmopolitan?"

  He looks so nervous, I can't help but laugh at him a little.

  "No, one of those will be fine," I tell him, holding out my hand for one of the beers.

  "Oh, OK." He immediately hands me the beer he just opened, "Do you want a glass? I can get you a glass."

  I take a long pull from the can. Actually, the beer tastes fabulous. Maybe it's because I like beer. Maybe it's because it's so cold that a fine layer of ice breaks up and slips down my throat with the first drink. Maybe it's because I just spent most of the day in a tiny little 6 seat plane and it just feels good to stand out here on the deck in what has to be the prettiest place I've ever been in. Or maybe, it's because the man standing a few feet away from me is looking at me like he wants to lick me from foot to noggin with a healthy lay over somewhere in between and good lord, do I want to let him do it.

  Cold beer from a can is about the best thing I've ever tasted right now, but hopefully that's going to change as soon as I get this man alone.

  Bear

  We hadn't really discussed much about sleeping arrangements, I realize as I show Dorthy the house.

  The night was good. Good company, good food, great view-- and I don't mean the mountains. Well, my fiancé does have a killer figure on her. I guess you could call tits like that "mountains."

  Still, I'm scared shitless to touch her for fear she might break. I've been finding every excuse there is to put my hands on her all night. I like the way I can feel her tremble a little bit when my hand is pressed against her back or resting over her shoulders.

  Or shit, maybe it's me that's been trembling.

  Now I've got this gorgeous woman in my home, giving her the fifty cent tour and feeling stupid. The house is done, but there's not much in it. Most of the windows don't even have curtains. The furniture is the stuff I moved from my old place.

  The plan was to wait till I had a woman who would want to fill up my space with her things and make this place hers the way she wants it. Now I feel bad that it just looks sort of abandoned while I'm showing Dorthy around.

  "The house just got finished a few months ago," I explain as I watch her eyes take in each empty room, "I, uh, was waiting till I had someone to share it with. I thought we'd decorate it together."

  "That's sweet, Barrett," she tells me, flashing me a smile that makes me want to grab her up in my arms and kiss her right here and now.

  I don't though.

  I've never been smooth with women. I've had a couple of girlfriends here and there but only because they come on to me. I suck at recognizing their signals. You pretty much have to hit me over the head and tell me you like me before I get a clue.

  Here I am, with a woman in my house that's pretty much my fiance and I don't even know if it's OK to kiss her yet.

  She keeps calling me by my given name too. I think the last person who did that was the substitute teacher who took over for Mrs. Atkins in the second grade when she moved away.

  Come to think of it, that might have been the only person who's ever called me Barrett.

  It sounds strange to hear my full name, but I like the way it sounds when Dorthy says it. It's soft and it sounds like she's singing it. Not like I'm in trouble or nothin' like when my mom yells at me. It feels good when Dorthy says it, like it's special between us. I like that. I like feeling like we got something special.

  I don't want to come off as pushy or like I'm expecting too much too soon, so I show Dorthy to the big guest room. It's furnished nice for when my folks come u
p or when my sister and her husband are here with their kids.

  "You can stay in here," I tell her, my words all tumbling over each other too fast. I turn on the light and walk through to show her the en suite bath. "It's got everything you need," I try to slow down and sound like I'm not desperate to hear her tell me she'd rather sleep in my room.

  She doesn't do it though, she stands just inside the guest bedroom doorway and smiles at me sweetly, "Thanks, Barrett. This will work out great."

  Dorthy covers her mouth and I think she's trying to hide the yawn as she gives the big king size bed a longing look.

  Shit I'm such an asshole!

  "Sorry, you must be exhausted," I mumble. Duh. She's been in the air for most of the day, she's 4 hours behind the time zone she's used to and a day like today would wear anyone out, let alone when your body thinks it's after midnight already.

  "It has been a long day," she says as she looks up at me.

  The look on her face makes me wonder what she's thinking. Hell, she's probably thinking that she wants me to leave her the fuck alone so she can unpack her things and use the restroom and do whatever it is that women do before they go to bed.

  "It was nice getting to talk to you tonight," I stammer out like an idiot, not quite ready to will my feet to move out of her room.

  "Yeah, it was nice. I had a great time."

  We did have a great time. Sitting out on Rogue and Mel's deck with good food and good company, it felt comfortable. Like Dorthy and I were old friends, just getting caught up after not seeing each other for a long time. Not like this awkward thing we're doing now.

  "Good!" I blurt out too loudly, too enthusiastically. I clear my throat and start over, "Good, Mel and Rogue are some of my best friends, I'm glad you like 'em-- and their growing crew of wild bandits," I laugh. The boys were crazy tonight, showing off for new company. Of course, they also crashed and burned in the middle of the floor before dinner was even off the grill.

  "We'll spend a lot of time with them," I tell Dorthy, "Now that the house is finished, I'm really looking forward to being able to be the one hosting the cook outs. I got a lot of good meals to pay them back for."

  Dorthy's just nodding at me, her smile beginning to look a little forced. I need to get out of her hair and give her some space. I can take a hint.

  "Well OK then," I reluctantly take a step back, edging out of the way so she can shut the door, even though that's gonna put me on the other side of it and I don't like that thought much at all.

  "If you tell me what time you think you'll be up, I'll time breakfast to be hot for ya," I'm stalling. I'm looking for an excuse to reach out and touch her. Even if just to swipe a strand of stray hair off her face.

  I had no problem putting my hands on her earlier, when it seemed like there was a reason to do it. Gently guiding her through Rogue's house or putting my arm around her shoulders when I noticed the cool evening air was making her shiver.

  She didn't pull away when I touched her, not one single time, but somehow I can't convince myself that she wants me to do it now.

  "Well," Dorthy looks around, like she's checking for the time, "I'm normally up by 7 but with the time difference, I have no idea. What time does the sun come up?"

  "You got lucky, comin' up this time of year," I finally feel confident about the conversation, this is definitely my area of expertise, "we're almost even, sunrise oughta be around 5. Couple more weeks and we'll be putting up the black out shades."

  "Oh," she looks up at the big windows lining the south wall, "Well, I'm sure I'll probably be up around normal then."

  "Yeah, well, just remember you're 'normal' is about 4 hours later than it is here," I remind her, "So if you're up at 3 instead, don't hesitate to make yourself at home."

  Damn, that sounds wrong, "I mean," I lower my eyes, feeling bashful and wanting to kick myself for being such a damn idiot, "It's your home too now-- or it's gonna be, I guess-- so of course, you should feel free to...you know what?" I look back at her and get lost in those big blue eyes. For a second I plum forget what I was saying and I'm so close to just leaning in to kiss her.

  Of course I come to my senses and then I take the final step back out of her room and straighten up with a smile, "I'm gonna let you get some sleep. I'll see ya in the morning and I'll make a good breakfast."

  "Sounds good," she tells me, "OK then, good night."

  "Night."

  I watch the door swing closed and hear the latch catch and then I'm just standing in my own damn hallway with my cock throbbing against my zipper, and my lips dry and hungry for a kiss I'm too chicken shit to cash in on.

  This didn't go quite the way I'd expected it to.

  I mean, it ain't like I was banking on chemistry and instant lust to take over and consume us the moment we set eyes on each other-- may have been hoping for it-- but I guess I figured we'd be sleeping in the same bed.

  Then again, I was expecting a different woman. Maybe that seems strange, seeing as how I wasn't sure what to expect at all, but Dorthy's so different from any woman I ever imagined myself with. I'm not sure what she thinks of me, but I know I like her. I like her more than a little bit even if I'm worried about how she's gonna manage-- in Alaska and in my bed.

  I'm not a fool. I know women are resilient. I know there's no reason not to take her to bed, even if I'll have to remember to keep my wits about me and be gentle with her. I'm willing to make that effort it means getting a taste of her sweet little body and feeling her tangled up with mine.

  I just don't know if she's feelin' the same way. Or if she's gonna be asking me to fly her outta here before I get the nerve to find out.

  Dorthy

  Dammit.

  Maybe I should have had another beer before we left Rogue and Melissa's. That way I'd have been just tipsy enough when we got back to Barrett's place that I might have been bold enough to kiss him. Or tell him to kiss me, seeing as how he's a foot and half taller than me and I don't see any way I'd be able to pull off initiating the first kiss without his cooperation.

  If he's standing up, that is.

  My imagination runs through a series of possible scenarios for seducing the man when he's sitting-- or laying-- down. If I could get him down at eye level, I could probably do a good job of convincing him to kiss me back.

  I don't want to stay in the guest room. It's what I was thinking when he showed me in and it's what I'm thinking now as I unpack my bags and put my things away in the closet and outfit the bathroom with my toiletries and stuff.

  After our time at the Bar-be-Que I was sure we were headed in a different direction. I expected Barrett to be all over me as soon as we were out of the sight of prying eyes. I was prepared for him to kiss me as soon as he got me into his house-- or even into his truck.

  Fuck "prepared," I wanted him to kiss me, dammit. I wanted him to kiss me and take me to his bed and show me what's underneath all that flannel and whiskers. Because even though Barrett isn't exactly what I expected my nieces to pair me up with, I can't deny that the man makes me burn with curiosity about what it would be like to be with him.

  He is a gentleman though.

  I smile to myself as I put the jeans and t-shirts, and sweaters and things I brought with me into the dresser drawers and hang the things that will wrinkle in the closet.

  When I packed for this trip, I wasn't sure what to expect. I didn't know if we'd be going out on the town or if we'd be going fishing on a lake or what. I also didn't know how long I'd be staying-- and I guess I still don't.

  I have a lot of time off banked up at work, I took 2 weeks and I can always call in and arrange to be gone longer if necessary. Of course, the plan is to quit the job and move up here.

  Pulling off the hiking boots I wore today and then peeling off my socks and jeans, I frown.

  The plan is to move here. Into this house. With Barrett. To live with him and marry him and start a family with him. That's a future that suddenly feels much farther away than it did this mo
rning.

  Barrett may be a gentleman, and that's all well and fine, but a long, Victorian style courtship is not what I had in mind.

  While I brush my teeth and get ready for bed, I think about the big picture. This is pretty much our first date. 2 weeks of first date. I'd say it's already safe to say that Barrett and I get along fine-- as friends-- but what about the rest?

  What about the money issues and how we intend to rear children?

  Oh for fuck sake, Dorthy, I glare at the woman looking back at me from the mirror as I finish brushing my teeth, out with it! What about the sex?

  Is it going to be awkward? Is it going to be good? Is it going to be gentle? Or rough? Gulp. That man is huge, he outweighs me by at least twice.

  I'm not so naive as to not understand the way things work. I've never been with a man as big as Barrett, but I've been with men who were over 6 feet tall. I understand how bodies fit together despite the difference in sizes.

  It's still so intimidating to think of being with him. It's also so exciting. Something about him gets to me, makes my breath come harder and my heart pound faster when I look at him or when I catch him looking at me.

  If I pretended I didn't want him I'd be lying.

  And lying about wanting the man that's burning up my thoughts as I slip under the covers of my very nice-- and very lonely-- bed in the guest room of what's supposed to be my own house, is a hard thing to do when I can't help but let my own fingers wander down my body and think of what it will feel like when those fingers are his.

  Barrett's room is upstairs at the other end of the hall way, so I don't worry about him hearing me when I softly call out his name as I let my imagination run away with me and drive myself over the edge but as I drift into a peaceful sleep I can't help but wonder what he'd have done if he had heard.

  Bear