Page 28 of Father Knows Best (A Family Affair #1)

seventeen

. . .

avery

The Gift

I thought about this a thousand times, I swear. I’ve made mental lists, physical lists, lists on my iPhone and on my computer—I’m pretty sure there are even a few electric bills with my list scrawled haphazardly on the back.

Sutton is a sensible man with a handful of favorite things–nice whiskey and wine, great suits, and good meals.

All of those things he can make or buy himself, and does.

We selected our rings together, and he planned our honeymoon to Bora Bora, and together, we live in our dream home.

He has the car he wants. He wears the cologne he likes.

There are very few gifts that I can reasonably purchase for Sutton that he actually longs for.

And the wedding night gift should be special, more special than the bottle of 2015 Chateau Lafite Rothschild I got him for his 36th birthday.

I’ve already packed an ungodly and unreasonable amount of lacy things and thong underwear–and besides, I’m already his, my body already belongs to Sutton. I am not his gift.

I thought about consulting Amelie, as my best friend, or even Roberta, since she dates around.

But Sutton is so beyond private, the idea of one of them knowing what I give him on our wedding night feels like an overshare, for him.

So I consult no one, and end up selecting a gift that feels right to me.

I pull it out of my bag, and set it on the bed.

Sutton rolls in the cart left at our suite by hospitality, lifting the sterling domed lid off of a large, rectangular plate, revealing chocolates and roses.

On the tray is a pink box that reads Wedded Bliss .

Sutt pulls the lid off and laughs, tipping the box on its side to show me the contents.

“Most people wait for this night to not need these,” Sutt says of the three condoms in the box.

“Three, wow,” I say, nodding toward the other items. “Three whole condoms and what else?”

He pulls out a purple foil package, half the size of the condom package.

“Single use,” he says. The first time Sutt and I made love, he used a condom, but shortly after, we discussed our long term plans.

After we exchanged our results which put us both in the clear for unprotected sex, I went on birth control.

The pill, to be exact. And not long after Sutton’s proposal we discussed when I’d go off birth control.

A few weeks ago, so that tonight, when we made love, I could, in theory, get pregnant.

We realize it takes time to leave my system, but symbolically, quitting in time for our wedding night feels right. We’re both okay with it taking a while, but we’re equally okay with getting pregnant soon, too.

“Well,” I tell him, pushing the box aside as I slip a chocolate past his lips. “We don’t need any of those things.” I smile up at my husband, already wholly obsessed with the new titles. “Your wife already tossed her pills, too.”

He kisses me, and we share the last bite of chocolate on his tongue. “I have something for you.” I reach for the box, matte black, tied with a black satin ribbon.

His brow furrows. “I didn’t get you a gift for our wedding night.” He shoves a hand through his hair, dark hair spilling over his eyes before I reach up and push it back.

“The wedding is my gift,” I reply honestly. He refused to let me contribute. Not even to my dress.

“If that’s true, then aren’t you my gift?” he looks at the perfect black box in between my hands then up at me. “You’re my gift.”

I smile. “No, this is your gift. And before you open it, I just wanted to tell you that I love you, Sutton.” My body trembles, nerves creeping through me as I near the moment that Sutton opens that box.

I don’t know how he’ll react, or what he’ll think, but I’m excited because more than anything, I trust our bond.

I trust our ability to grow and adapt together.

And I think he’s been showing me the last few weeks, in his way, that we’re ready for more.

Sutton is the type of guy who needs a little nudge, the way I steered him toward an open heart and mind when Geo came clean. This is no different. A little nudge, show him my heart, my willingness, all of my wicked desires–and everything else will click into place.

He strokes his thumb over the satin ribbon on the box. “I love you too, baby.”

I nod, my eyes growing unexpectedly warm.

I didn’t even get misty at the ceremony–I was just so damn excited to belong to Sutton officially that all I could do was smile and stare at him.

Seriously. “And in the last few weeks, I’ve felt myself growing even closer to you.

And I was hoping that this gift would be the start of something new, of us getting even closer. Together.”

I could pass out. I'm so nervous, but I press my hand to my stomach, against the lace and beaded fabric of my gown, and take a deep breath. He cups my cheek, and I nearly orgasm from the cool sting of his metal wedding band against my horny, fiery cheek.

He smiles, but only part of his mouth curves, the other part still cautious. His mouth is a metaphor for his mind right now, I can see it in the way his gorgeous eyes nervously ping back and forth, from me to the gift.

“Open it.”

He looks at me a moment longer, and I try as hard as I can to etch that version of him into my brain for later. The way he looks after a night of music, love and family, his bowtie draped around his neck untied, his hair absolutely disheveled and utterly hot.

My gorgeous husband.

Then his eyes drop to the box, and I bring my hands together, steepling them beneath my chin as he gives the ribbon a tug. It unspools for him, and he carefully lifts the lid off the box, his eyes cutting to mine one last time before landing on the contents.

My heart leaps into my throat, wedging itself there without a single beat sneaking through as I stare at Sutton’s face, tipped down, eyes locked on the gift.

I swallow, though it feels impossible.

“What–why are you giving me this?” he asks, his tone devoid of life, nothing in it but flatness and confusion.

I roll my lips together, fingertips carving a groove into my flesh beneath my chin as I hold my calm and steady position, trying not to overreact. “Do you know what it is?”

Sutton looks up at me for the first time, his eyes hollow, making my stomach plummet.

“Do you know what it is?” He reaches into the box and picks up the solid black plug, one I picked in store at a shop downtown last week.

He runs his thumb over the D printed on the base of the toy–the line I selected this from is called Debauchery, and it’s the highest end toy line out there.

He turns it over, holding it by the base.

“Did Kat put you up to this?” he asks, lips tightening, eyes narrowing.

“Put me… up to it ?” I look at the anal plug in his hand, sleek and perfectly sized for beginners, then look up, into his eyes.

I reroute my brain from this sticky, inescapable reaction, and move toward my plan–telling him what it’s for.

“I thought we could use it together. On me. Or… I don’t know…

you.” I lick my lips and smear my hands down my dress before steepling them again. “One day, maybe.”

Sutton blinks at me, and the warmth and excitement of our wedding night has completely evaporated. “I’m not using a butt plug, Avery.” He places the brand new toy into the box and sets the box on the bed, as if it’s a dose of radiation we can’t be near.

I drop my hands and twist my fingers together nervously. This is a new kind of nervousness. It’s not the exciting, anticipatory kind I usually get around him. This is the real, raw, bad kind of nervousness. “Well, I could use it. It didn’t have to be for you per se but… for us.”

Sutton’s eyes sweep mine over and over, and after what feels like minutes have passed, he reaches out and rests his hand on my hip. A moment later, a grin breaks out across his face. “You got me.”

My lungs burn, and my eyes fill, and suddenly my body is on fire, my skin so hot that I can’t take it. I press my hands to my stomach and turn, exposing my back to him. “Take the dress off. Please, unzip me. Now.”

Sutton, ever astute, realizes this is not a sexy disrobing, and that something is wrong, or about to be.

He tugs the zipper down gently and helps me step out of my dress.

My sweaty body trembles in my white lace teddy, garter and thigh high stockings in perfect place.

Though showing him this is playing out a lot differently than I expected.

I snatch my satin robe—the one that reads Mrs. Mercer on the back—off the chair and tug it on, cinching it so tightly that Sutton can’t see any of my body.

“You look beautiful in that ro–”

“Sutton, I wasn’t tricking you. The gift wasn’t a joke.

” Hot tears steam down my cheeks. Sickness churns through every part of me, places in me that I had no idea could feel sick do.

“Oh my god,” I breathe out the words, shaky and broken, and nearly lose my footing as I spin around and shove my feet into–what are these?

My wedding heels? I don’t care. They’re shoes.

I can’t breathe.

This is so humiliating.

“Avery, c’mon–” he takes me by the upper arm, and I spin, eyes blurry from humiliated tears, which sting their way down my cheeks.

“I thought we could, I don’t know Sutton, push ourselves, together. Try new things… together.” There’s nothing wrong with what I’m asking and yet I’ve never felt so tiny. I feel like I could slip into the Earth and disappear.

He glances back at the box, the toy glaring back up at us creating a powerful divide that did not exist minutes ago.

Looking back at me, he takes my hand and strokes his thumb over the wedding band that he slipped onto my finger earlier tonight, when we committed to forever together. “I thought you were joking.”

My chest burns. “It wasn’t a joke.”

His face falls, those beautiful eyes of his shattering into a million fragments of confusion and stabbing pain. But I can’t stand here and ease his pain—I hurt. He hurt me. What he said, the way that he reacted.

“Avery, I’m a grown man. I don’t play with toys. And I certainly don’t play around when making love to my wife.” His lips form a thin line, dark eyes searching mine, but I yank my hand from his grip, my entire body suddenly in fight or flight.

I choose flight.

“Avery–” he stops himself, but doesn’t know where to pick up his sentence, so he lets it die.

Our wedding night is dying. Nausea spikes up my throat, stinging my senses.

Oh my God .

I’m running out on my wedding night.

Something hits my chest, a gentle plunk, but weighty enough to get my attention. I turn, looking down as I make my way through the oversized suite, headed for the door. Mascara. There’s mascara on my robe because that was a tear. I’m sobbing. I didn’t feel it or hear myself, but I’m sobbing.

I think he calls for me, I think he cries out for me to come back, but I can’t be sure. A high pitched noise, something like panic and shock, sounds off in my brain. My hands shake as I pull the heavy door open.

The hallway is cool, but I’m so overheated and overwhelmed–I don’t know what to do but cry.

Cry and run.

My ankles throb with every frantic step down the ornate hallway, my chest heaving with ragged sobs. My lungs burn, scorched by the weight of my tears, the desperate running I’m doing, and the shattering of my wedding night’s fragile hopes.

How is this my wedding night?

I’m so embarrassed. He looked at me like I’m disgusting.

There’s a curve at the end of the hall, and I run toward it, toward the bank of elevators nestled just a few feet away. Turning the corner, I tap the button, watching it flare red on first tap but I can’t stop. My eyes blur with sobering tears as I hit the red blob over and over and over until–

“Avery?” Geo’s voice slices through me like having ice water poured down my back. Wrapping my arms around myself, I swallow, and look him straight in the eye as I back up toward the wall, still tapping the button.

I don’t say anything, but still, I feel my lips tremble, tears leaking into my mouth.

Sutton’s voice echoes down the hall. “Avery!”

The doors open, and I step on, blinking at Geo. He looks at the end of the hall, where Sutton appears a moment later, eyes wide, nostril flared, bow tie still strung open around his neck. Geo looks between us, then steps onto the elevator with me right as the doors close.