by Teagan Kade
“I guess they’re just attracted to the cream of the crop,” I reply, watching Linnea and wishing I wasn’t in bed, with a head injury…and an audience.
Still, she seems certain to get to the bottom of what happened. “Are you sure you didn’t see who it was that attacked you?”
“No, sorry.”
“It has to be Rex or one of his goons,” Peyton pipes in. “Who the hell else would it be?” He nods to my wallet next to my phone, a couple of bills clearly sticking out. “They didn’t take that, did they?”
It’s a solid point, which only further confirms Rex’s involvement. I recall the incident in the locker room prior. He had motive, too. He doesn’t want me to marry Linnea. I should be thankful I’m not dead.
“All I remember is the pain and then waking up to Harry Potter.”
My brothers look at each other in confusion.
“You sure you’re all there, man?” asks Phoenix.
I wave my hand around trying to explain it. “No, like… The dude who helped me, he was wearing… Shit, never mind. Point is, a man and a woman helped me, called me a cab.”
“What do you want to us to do?” asks Peyton, crossing his arms. “Because I’d love to bust in some heads, personally.”
I look at Linnea, can see the pain in her eyes at seeing me like this. “I know what we have to do,” I tell her.
She’s struggling to hold it together. “What?”
“We get married, right here, right now.”
At first she laughs. “You’re serious?”
“It’s the only way I can protect you.”
Linnea looks behind herself to Phoenix and Peyton.
“It’s your call,” they tell me.
“You should focus on getting better,” Linnea tells me. “It can wait.”
I squeeze Linnea’s hand, speaking aloud. “No, it can’t. Call Dad,” I tell Peyton. “He knows the officiant from the ceremony. He can get this happening.”
Peyton takes out his cell. “On it,” he says, heading out of the room.
Phoenix pulls his out. “I’ll call Alissa, see if she can help.”
Soon it’s just Linnea and me left in the room.
“It’s the right call,” I tell her. “It won’t be the wedding you hoped for, I know, but at least this way it’s done. After this, there’s nothing your father can do.”
She nods. “I know.”
I look back towards the door. “Don’t suppose you brought your wedding dress?”
*
It takes less than an hour to arrange everything.
It’s quite a strange set-up having so many people crammed into this tiny hospital room. Phoenix and Heather are here, Peyton, all dressed up to the nines. Dad showed up with Alissa, brought along an officiant he told me this was far from the most unusual ceremony he’s attended. Alissa even had a truck load of white flowers delivered, turned the place into a secret garden of sorts.
The Doc’s only condition was that I remain in bed, which did make getting into my suit quite difficult. Phoenix and Peyton tried to help, but they struggle dressing themselves let alone someone else.
I look at Dad as we wait for Linnea to get changed down the hall. She headed off with Erin half an hour ago. God knows what they’ve been getting up to.
Light music, again supplied by Alissa, is playing, Phoenix and Peyton beside me with their hands clasped in front of themselves, Heather on the other side making eye sex with her better half across the room.
Dad hasn’t said anything, but I know loosely what’s he thinking, that this was all too fast. Maybe? It’s hard to know the mind of Stone King, but I am thankful my brothers have loosened up this path for me. In truth Dad probably thinks of this more like a transaction, a way to keep Linnea safe. He might be many things, but he has become soft on matters of the heart these last couple of years, even to his own detriment at times. If he can grow, become a better version of himself, hell, anyone can.
Erin arrives in the doorway smiling, entering the room, letting Linnea fill her space. In that instant, I am breathless.
I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
The dress Alissa helped her pick out features a deep, plunging neckline with bare shoulders, simple and elegant. There’s not a hint of tomboy. What I see before me is all woman, all beauty, and all I’ll ever need.
I see her and know this is the right decision. I look into her eyes, see her smiling, and I never want to look away.
“Wow,” I say, when she stands next to me, taking my hand. “You look incredible.”
She’s nervous, I can tell, but it only makes her more endearing.
“You scrub up pretty good yourself,” she whispers.
The officiant steps forward. “Shall we start?”
It’s a simple ceremony. Everything’s running along smoothly, but when it comes to the vows, I panic.
“I don’t have my vows,” I tell Linnea.
“Neither do I,” she replies, recalling them from memory.
I’m not so gifted, forced to improvise.
Silence fills the room. I know no one’s going to expect me to recite a Shakespearian masterwork, but I still want to speak my mind and make it somewhat elegant.
I take a moment to compose myself and look to my bride-to-be. “I remember the first time I saw you,” I begin. “I got the feeling you were someone I wanted to, no, needed to know,” I correct. “I remember your first words to me, our first kiss, waking up to Michael Jordan.” This is met by a few bemused looks around the room but laughter from Linnea.
“Waking up to you, I knew,” I continue. “This was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and yeah, you’re smart and funny and a complete badass who’s oddly gifted at sports of every kind, but I want you to know my love for you is real, that you are that person I dream of coming home to. Forever and always, my heart is yours, Linnea Marsden. Do with it what you will.”
She breaks down. Wiping away tears, her eyes fluttering. “I don’t want to ruin Erin’s makeup,” she laughs.
Erin speaks up from the back of the room. “I’m no expert. You’re probably doing it a favor.”
Panic returns when we come to exchange rings, but Phoenix reaches into his pocket and passes across the ring Mom left for me, one for each of us brothers and this the last. I almost tear up myself thinking about her, how proud she’d be standing there seeing Linnea, seeing me so happy.
Grace fills that spot. I think she’s crying enough for everyone combined.
We exchange rings, a hearty round of applause when we kiss and the marriage is made official.
There’s nothing Rex can do now, I realize.
Linnea’s mine, she’s a King, and she’s safe.
*
After the celebrations are completed—apple juice for me, champagne for every else—it’s just Linnea and me, the door closed and nothing but the soft hum of a working hospital.
Linnea’s lying up on the bed beside me, arm over my chest adjusting my bandage.
The pain has dropped off, or maybe it’s just the drugs.
I play with her hair. “How does it feel to be married, Mrs. King?”
She holds her hand up, ring glinting in the moonlight from the window. “Pretty damn good, truth be told.”
Her hand falls back to my chest, runs under the blanket and finds my cock through my underwear. It’s a hell of a lot better than the paper panties I was wearing when I woke up in here. She rubs at my length lightly. “It’s a shame we can’t consummate the marriage.”
I take the blanket and pull it, throwing it over her and keeping an eye on the door. Nurses have been coming in and out all night. I don’t want them to see what I’m about to do.
With one hand I gather up the wedding dress, pulling it until I have access between her legs. Her hand stops moving against my crotch. “What are you doing?” she slurs.
My fingers dance over the lace of her panties, wedding lingerie I would have liked to see in a different l
ight, but this will have to do.
My fingers creep over the waistband and tuck inside, searching.
She gasps, head falling back to the pillow. “You do realize where we are, don’t you?”
“Do I realize someone could walk through that door at any moment?” I tell her, my hand inside her panties, fingers splitting the soft lips of her sex. “Of course I do. It would be dangerous, risqué, wouldn’t it?” I slip a finger inside her. “Reckless even.”
Her back arches off the bed, her eyes shuttering closed. “It would,” she breathes out.
I let my thumb pad her clit and begin to apply pressure, my finger sliding in and out of her wetness below. “Any moment,” I tell her, “and we could be caught, my finger inside you, my thumb against your clit.”
She tightens as I circle the small nub of it, tapping it lightly.
She reaches for the blanket, holding it tight while I stroke her, easing a second finger inside and finding her inner wall, that one spot I know will send her crazy.
I lean over, my lips at her ear. “Or would you prefer it was my cock sliding inside you right now? Filling you up, stretching out this tight little hole of yours?”
Immediately she goes taut, one, two seconds before she exhales long and low, her pussy tightening and releasing around my finger in rapid staccato. I didn’t think she’d come so fast, but it’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.
She turns to me flustered, thighs squeezing around my hand, trapping it in place. She reaches below the blanket and finds my cock again. “My turn, dear husband.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LINNEA
I pull up outside the hospital and gather Nolan’s things from the passenger seat. I thought he should leave in something other than the blood-stained suit he came in with.
I’m about to open the car door when my cell rings. I take it out and note the private number. I know it’s my father, but I answer anyhow, planning to keep it short.
“You should stop calling me,” I tell him.
“My own daughter? And why would I do that?”
“Because she told you to.”
“I heard you were jilted at the altar.”
My blood starts to boil, but I’m not going to let him get the better of me. “I suppose you would know something about that, wouldn’t you? But if you think we’re going to be intimidated, you’re wrong.”
“I think,” he replies, “next Saturday would be a perfect day for your wedding with Harry.”
I smile with satisfaction because I know this next line is going to drive a stake right through that steel heart of his. “I’m married to Nolan, officially, so you can stay away from me, my husband, and my family.”
His patience starts to diminish. “Stop playing games, Linnea.”
“You are the one playing games,” I snap. “I want nothing to do with you. I don’t know how many times I have to say that for it to compute in that thick skull of yours. I’m grateful my mother protected me from you for all those years because now I understand what a monster you are.”
“Li—”
I’ve already hung up.
I’m still prickling with rage as I walk through the hospital, but I take a moment before I enter Nolan’s room to calm myself. I need to be strong for him, for us.
I enter smiling, holding up the clothes. “You ready to get out of here?”
He’s on the edge of the bed smiling back, makes even that stupid hospital smock look like high fashion. He pulls at it. “Damn, and here I was just getting used to this thing.”
The bandage around his head has been removed, all his tests clear.
I place the clothes down beside him and come between his legs, snaking my arms around his neck and pressing my crotch to his, noting the way he hardens against me. “Maybe bring it with you. You know, for later.” I wink.
“Mrs. King,” he smiles. “When you did you become so kinky?”
*
I place the breakfast tray down next to the bed, Nolan easing himself upright and breathing in. “Ah, the perks of having a brother who can actually cook.”
I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “If you’re expecting this kind of culinary perfection from your wife, you’re dreaming. I’ll screw up toast and butter if you give me the chance.”
He reaches for me, brushing my hair back and smiling. “You have other, more advantageous qualities, my dear.”
I trace my finger down his arm, follow the inky lines of his tattoos. “Such as?”
His hand goes to the top button of my blouse, pops it open and moves to the next. “Your eloquent way with words, for example.”
“Fuck off,” I laugh.
“Mmm, there we go.”
A third button and the blouse has opened enough for my breasts to show, nipples stiffening in the cups of my bra. “Contrary to what my father says, my mother is a saint. Truth is, I don’t know where I get my potty mouth.”
“Watching too much NBA as a kid, perhaps?”
With the final button the blouse opens completely, parting down the center.
“Steph Curry’s mom actually told him she was going to wash his mouth out with soap, even sent him two home videos. My mom doesn’t know the half of what happens out there on the court. She’d be mortified at a quarter of what comes out of my mouth.”
“You clearly haven’t been on a hockey rink. It’s like the Wild West, but everyone has a stick instead of a gun.” The left side of the blouse whispers aside. Nolan takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it, testing its texture. I can tell by the way his boxers are jutting out like a contemporary art installation it’s to his satisfaction.
“Sounds like fun if you ask me,” I tell him.
“I think you’d make an excellent hockey player, personally.”
Need is already starting to stir inside me. “What position would I play?”
His fingers leave my nipple, walk across to the center of my chest where my heart beats against them in a tight cadence. “Center sounds about right. They’re responsible for quarterbacking both ends of the ice, must be good at passing and face-offs, shooting. Teams look for creativity when it comes to choosing a center…and smarts.”
I whistle. “Smart, creative—I’ll take that, but pretty sure I’d be a defenseman. I like it physical.”
He groans deep from within his chest, an animal. “I know.”
I stand abruptly and do up my blouse. I’m not sure he’s ready for sex yet. It’s only been a few days since he left the hospital. I think he’s actually enjoyed being babied like this, far more than he should. Even the others have pitched in, Phoenix and Heather providing our meals, Peyton and Erin picking up a PlayStation earlier in the week and hooking it up in his room. The guy’s never going to want to leave.
I’ve enjoyed it too, in my own way, and yes, maybe it’s because he’s been shirtless this whole time, a veritable eye candy overload, but it’s also given us a lot of time to chat, and talk, and simply be close. I feel like I know him on a far deeper level than ever before. It sounds strange saying that, getting to know your husband after the fact, but it has played out well.
He looks at me like a poor lost puppy who’s going without a meal. “Really?”
I finish the top button. “You’re in no condition for that, mister. Doctor’s orders.”
He reaches down up where the wound at the back of his head is, trying not to grimace. “See? Perfectly fine. A bee sting.”
“Eat up,” I laugh, heading downstairs.
Heather’s cleaning up downstairs. “How’s the patient?”
“You know these King boys,” I tell her. “They act all hard but really they’re just looking for someone to pamper them, rock them to sleep and coo in their ear.”
“Tell me about it,” Heather replies. “Phoenix wanted to come with me to the nail salon, I kid you not.”
“You don’t seem like the nail salon type,” I say, cautious not to overstep here, but Heather seems completely down to
earth, that cool rocker chick you always wanted to be friends with in high school but who tread her own path and didn’t give a damn about anything else.
“I grew up without a mother figure, but I suppose I’ve come around to the feminine arts lately.” She looks me up and down. “No offense, but you don’t seem like much of a Kardashian either.”
I lean against the kitchen counter. “I’ve always been pegged as a tomboy, which was just fine by me. The boys always left me alone, too busy trying to hit on the cheer squad to see what I was packing under my Bulls jacket.”
“I’ve seen you play, by the way. You’re pretty great.”
I take the compliment. “Thanks. You don’t play any sport?”
She laughs aloud. “Trust me,” she says, prodding her thumb towards the second floor of the house, “running around after that cute idiot is exercise enough.”
“I hear you.”
She puts the last plate away, moving to the sink to wash her hands. “Phoenix and I are headed out now, which means you’ve got to the place to yourself.”
“Oh?”
She gives me a quick wink. “It’s a rare event, take advantage. Scream the house down if you want to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I see Heather and Phoenix off, closing the front door behind myself and wondering what to do. I decide to take a shower first, find my fingers pressing between my legs until I realize I’ve got a perfectly good way to get off in the room next door.
Damn the doctor. I want to get laid.
I dry myself off and walk around the corner to Nolan’s room, entering naked and closing the door behind myself. It’s crazy, but even now I’m embarrassed to be naked in front of him. Me? Linnea Marsden.
He sits up straight now. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
I strut to the bed, stopping just out of reach. I put my hands behind my back and twist on a toe. “We have the house to ourselves.”
I can see how desperate he is. Need is coming off him in waves.
“Would you like to take advantage?” I offer.
He kicks the covers away, stripping off his boxers in one quick movement. “Hell yes, I do.”
He stands and comes forward, no sign of pain, taking me around the waist and pulling me against his hardness.
