Chapter 2: Bed assemble
The scent of fresh pine and cardboard filled Cherish’s usually lavender-scented sanctuary. Giant, flat boxes leaned against the walls of her bedroom, dwarfing the plush armchair by the window and making the framed photographs seem like tiny postcards. The king-sized mattress and box spring, still swaddled in thick plastic, lay like beached whales on her cream-colored rug. In the center of the chaos, Devon stood, hands on his hips, surveying the scene. He’d swapped his usual fitted shirt for a faded grey tee that stretched taut across his chest and shoulders, darkening slightly with sweat at the collar. His glasses were slightly askew.
"Cherry," he began, his voice a mix of amusement and genuine bewilderment. He tapped the enormous frame box with his knuckle. "This ain't just a bed. This is a damn continent. You hosting sleepovers for the entire choir?" He looked pointedly around her meticulously curated space, the space he knew held only her presence. "Thought you were the queen of solo nesting."
Cherish busied herself tearing tape off a long, thin box labeled 'Slats & Hardware'. Her cheeks felt warm. "It... it was on sale," she offered weakly, not meeting his eyes. The truth was hazier, a tangled mess she hadn'tt fully unraveled herself. After Devon’s quiet departure following his question – When do you think you might be open...? – and the raw, tearful brunch confession with Maya and Lena, a restless energy had possessed her. Online browsing had led her to this behemoth, marketed as the ‘Family Luxury XL Haven’. The sheer size felt like a rebellion against the narrow confines of her old life, her old fears. A declaration, however unspoken, that she was making space. For what, exactly, she hadn't dared articulate.
"Sale?" Devon chuckled, the deep sound rumbling pleasantly in the confined space. He picked up the Allen wrench from the small pile of tools. "Cherry, this thing requires a structural engineer. Or at least a small army. Lucky for you, you got me." He flashed her a grin, his teeth bright against his dark skin, his locs catching the afternoon light filtering through the blinds. "But seriously," he added, his gaze sharper now, lingering on her face as she finally looked up. "Why so big?"
The question hung in the pine-scented air. The memory of his arm around her waist on the couch, the possessive weight of it, the terrifying rightness of it, flashed through her. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "Just... wanted room," she mumbled, focusing fiercely on extracting the slats. "To spread out. Read. Whatever."
"Spread out, huh?" Devon’s voice was low, thoughtful. He started unwrapping the frame pieces, the plastic crinkling loudly. He didn’t push. But his gaze, when she chanced another look, held that familiar, unnerving intensity. It wasn't demanding, but it saw too much. Saw the flush creeping up her neck, the slight tremor in her hands as she fumbled with the packaging. Saw the unspoken yearning tangled up in the ridiculous purchase.
They worked in a silence punctuated by the rip of cardboard, the clatter of metal parts, and the occasional grunt of effort as they maneuvered heavy pieces. Devon took charge naturally, reading the instructions with focused efficiency, his large hands surprisingly deft with the small wrenches and bolts. Cherish followed his lead, holding beams steady, fetching tools, her mind a whirlwind. Every brush of his arm against hers sent a jolt through her. The sheer size of the bed frame as it began to take shape felt both exhilarating and terrifying – a vast, empty landscape waiting to be filled with... what? Loneliness? Or something else entirely?
She knelt to align a slat, her denim shorts riding up slightly on her thick thighs. Devon was crouched opposite her, tightening a bolt. His gaze flickered down her leg, then back to the bolt, a muscle tightening in his jaw. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of sawdust from the pre-drilled holes and the clean sweat beading at Devon’s temples. The silence wasn’t comfortable anymore; it was charged, humming with the awareness of their proximity, the sheer physicality of the task, and the unspoken questions hanging between them like dust motes in the sunlight.
"You know," Devon said suddenly, his voice rough, breaking the tense quiet. He didn't look up from the bolt he was wrenching tight. "Assembling furniture is kinda... intimate." He gave the wrench another forceful twist. "Requires coordination. Trust." He finally lifted his head, his eyes finding hers over the framework of the giant bed. "Patience."
Cherish swallowed, her throat dry. His words resonated deep in the hollow place Marcus had left behind. Coordination. Trust. Patience. Things her marriage had utterly lacked. Things Devon was demonstrating right now, piece by piece, bolt by bolt. The protective instinct he’d shown at the bar, the fierce admiration at brunch, the patient waiting after her panic on the couch… it coalesced into a tangible force in the room.
He stood up, stretching, his broad back flexing beneath the thin cotton. "Alright, princess," he said, the nickname sending a shiver down her spine. It wasn't teasing now. It felt weighted. Possessive. "Time for the main event." He nodded towards the plastic-wrapped mattress and box spring. "This is gonna be a two-person lift. A serious two-person lift."
They positioned themselves at either end of the mattress. It was enormous, heavy, and unwieldy. "Ready?" Devon asked, his voice tight with effort already. "On three. One... two... three!"
They heaved. The mattress lifted, swaying dangerously. Cherish strained, her muscles protesting, her grip slipping slightly on the slick plastic. "Devon!" she gasped as her end started to dip.
"Hold on! I got you!" His voice was a command, laced with urgency. He shifted his stance, muscles bunching, taking more of the weight. He shuffled sideways, guiding them towards the frame. "Almost... there... just a little more..." He was breathing hard, his focus absolute.
They lowered it onto the frame with a heavy thump that vibrated through the floorboards. Cherish stumbled slightly as the weight left her hands, off-balance. In a flash, Devon was there. Not just steadying her, but pulling her firmly against him, his strong arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. His front was solid, hard muscle damp with sweat against the thin fabric of her tank top. The heat radiating from him was immense, enveloping. She could feel the rapid thud of his heart against her shoulder blade, the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.
For a suspended moment, she was pressed tightly against him, surrounded by his strength, engulfed in his scent – clean sweat, warm skin, and that underlying note of sandalwood. Her own breath hitched, trapped in her throat. Every nerve ending sparked. Her backside pressed against the firm ridge of his jeans, an unmistakable hardness that stole the air from her lungs. The sheer size of the bed loomed beside them, a silent, stark reminder of the space she’d created. Space he was currently filling completely.
He didn’t let go immediately. His chin brushed the top of her head, his breath warm against her scalp where her locs were pulled into a messy bun. His arms tightened almost imperceptibly, holding her securely against the solid wall of his body. It wasn't just support; it was claiming. Possessing. Echoing the intensity of his gaze at the bar, the promise in his words.
"Told you I got you," he murmured, his voice a low vibration she felt deep in her bones, rough and intimate in the quiet room. His lips were dangerously close to the shell of her ear.
Cherish couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The fear was still there, the ingrained terror of rejection, the ghost of Marcus’s indifference. But it was drowned out, momentarily obliterated by the visceral reality of Devon’s body against hers – hard, wanting, present. The ache between her legs, familiar and frustrated, flared into a sharp, demanding pulse, syncing with the frantic beat of her heart. He wasn't just holding her up. He was holding her. Exactly where he’d implied he wanted her. On the threshold of the vast, empty bed.
He slowly, deliberately loosened his grip, but didn't step back. One large hand remained resting possessively on her hip, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle on the bare skin just above the waistband of her shorts. His gaze, when she finally dared to tilt her head back to look at him, was molten. Dark, intense, stripped of any pretense. It held the fierce protectiveness he’d always shown, yes. But now, simmering just beneath the surface, undeniable and raw, was the hunger he’d confessed was "a big part" of it. The look said he knew exactly what he wanted to do to her on that massive bed. And he was barely holding back. The air crackled, thick with the scent of new beginnings, sweat, and the terrifying, exhilarating promise of everything that empty space represented.
Her fingers twitched against his thumb still traced her hip skin. That crackling air threatened to ignite them against plastic wrapped mattress right then. She stepped back breath shallow shaky inhaling sawdust sweat instead Devon warmth. "Right" Cherish voice sounded steadier than felt "Let’s make this feel like home"
Devon watched silent intense motionless lion as gathered armful faux fur blankets deep burgundy stacked neatly corner earlier His gaze tracked movements thick locs swaying lower back curve waist beneath thin cotton tank She could feel eyes like physical weight "Need hand Cherry?"
"No she murmured focus ritual unfolding layers first cool crisp ivory silk sheets cool crisp cotton silk sheets smoothed meticulously across plush surface "Got this" The methodical smoothing folding tucking became meditation calming frantic heart rhythm Silk cool against fingertips luxurious whisper promise comfort refuge
Next came faux throw blankets - smoky grey impossibly soft piled corners middle The texture invited sinking disappearing Devon shifted feet clearing throat "Damn Cherry This looks like cloud"
"Good she breathed adding velvet cushions emerald gold adding velvet cushions emerald green emerald green velvet cushions "That's idea" She turned him finally courage gathering like storm clouds outside window "Help with last bit?" She held out thick ivory sherpa blanket edges trailing floor
He took it hesitate Two strides closed distance closed took blanket fingers brushing hers intentionally lingered Shared warm "Where this go princess?"
""
The voice low gravel rough velvet like blanket itself blanket itself
She gestured foot bed "Just... there middle" He unfolded blanket unfold blanket air float settle cloud onto silk fur beneath fur beneath Beneath her direction piled arranged mountains comfort Laughter bubbled unexpectedly released tension "Looks like throne room fit queens""
"Yeah she whispered rain began tapping windowpane sudden insistent rhythm "Exactly" The dimming light outside deepened room shadows She moved switch flipping overhead lights plunging vanishing leaving only flickering glow three lemon verbena candles on nightstand Soft instrumental lofi spilled unseen speaker complex rhythms syncing rainfall ""
Devfused exhale long slow sound appreciation "You thought this through huh?""He stood edge vast bed kingdom creation creation
hands shoved hands back on denim covered thighs "Looks perfect Cherry Truly""
"
"Get in she said quietly words hanging air between them" She didn wait permission invitation command Devon froze eyes widening surprise behind lenses lenses eyes dropping newly made bed back her then back her face face searching""
serious?"
"Dead serious" She climbed crawled across silk fur nestling deep into piled pillows near headboard center batting space beside her "Come see feels like" The rain intensified steady drum nowdrumming roof window glass Outside world shrinking shrinking away The candlelight danced shadows on walls sculpting Devons hesitation hesitation into stark relief relief""
"You sure this me?"" asked rough edged vulnerability cutting through usual confidence "After his touch at assembly possessive nearness now asking permission His thumb circle her hip felt lifetimes ago ago"
"Positive Cherish patted silk beside her voice gaining strength warmth "Unless scared comfortable""
Challenge tossed teasingly bait hookshe knew he'd take"couldn't refuse refuse""
refuse
"Scared? Devon scoffedight chuckle tension dissolving replaced warmth He kicked off sneakers socks without word sank edge mattress with groan appreciation The bed swallowed him whole enveloping softness support "Oh hell is this magic?"" inched closer careful not touch yet resting back against headboard eyes closed breathing deepening "This like laying cloud made specifically for my ass""
"Cherish shifted turning towards him body curving natural arc Her locs spilled crimson river over ivory sherpa as let head settle head against his chest finding hollow just below collarb instantly perfect fit The skin beneath thin tee radiated heat scent sandalwood sweat musk completely Devon The steady thump beneath her ear grounding rhythm world thunder rain outside intensified cocooning them lemon candles flickered low casting gold pools across blankets skin skin soft music wove through silence complex piano chords heartbeat syncing "Oh she murmured content deeper into him exhale years’ years tension "This perfect Devon""
"
His arm came around hesitantly settling heavy secure weight waist His thumb found skin again resuming slow circle circle"Where this circle start? She wonderedd lost pleasant haze sensation "Like at beginning he murmured voice rumble beneath her ear felt thick with emotion "Right where belong Cherry" ChestCherry" His hand slid upward tracing spine until broad hand cradled base skull possessive tender "Just like this""
SheThe rain drummed steady rhythm outside their breathing syncing candlelight danced shadows across Devon face softening sharp angles into something vulnerable real The hardness pressing her thigh earlier throughe said thing His restraint palpable trembling edge control Cherish tilted head back meeting gaze molten dark reflecting candle flames flames""
"Devon she whispered name felt like key music shift softer
"Yeah princess?" "His thumb stilled skull pressing slightly urging closer
"Thank you helping build fortress she breathed lips inches from mouth now rain thunder sudden clap rattling windowpanen't jump"
"Devon hand tightened possessively anchoring her Her pulse roared louder than storm "Always sanctuary he murmured lips brushing forehead feather light promise promise"His mouth hovered hers breath mingling lemony air "Always" The music swelled softly around them suspended breath before plunge deeper into storm inside outside outside"
The steady thud of Devon’s heartbeat beneath her ear, the warmth of his skin, the lemon-and-rain scented air – it all pulled Cherish into a deep, unexpected sleep. She drifted, cocooned in safety, the fortress of the bed and the strength of the man holding her close. Rain lashed the windows in a constant, soothing drone. Time blurred, stretched thin.
Cherish woke slowly, consciousness returning like a gentle tide. Her cheek was pressed firmly to Devon’s warm, solid chest, rising and falling with his deep, even breaths. The rain still fell, a softer patter now. She felt anchored, wanted, safe… and a low, unfamiliar thrum of something else pulsed beneath her skin: a needy, warm awareness. Oddly sexy. She tilted her head back slightly, looking up.
Devon was already awake. His gaze met hers instantly, calm, intense, unwavering in the dim candlelight. No words. Just the shared rhythm of their breath, the flickering gold light playing over his face, the charged silence thick between them. A minute stretched, suspended, heavy with everything unspoken since the bar, the couch, the near-kiss over the mattress.
Then, his hands moved. One slid firmly to the small of her back, the other cradled behind her shoulders, and he lifted her bodily, shifting her fully on top of him, her soft curves settling against the hard planes of his torso and the undeniable ridge beneath his jeans. His eyes never left hers. He didn’t ask. He simply closed the final distance, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was neither tentative nor gentle, but deep, claiming, and fiercely passionate.
The shock of it – the heat, the raw desire, the suddenness – ignited Cherish instantly. A soft gasp escaped into his mouth, then she was kissing him back with equal fire, her hands tangling in the short locs at his nape, fingers tightening. It felt too good, a dam breaking after years of drought, the friction of their bodies through thin fabric sending electric jolts through her core. “Devon,” she breathed against his lips, voice thick.
His large hands slid urgently beneath her thin tank top, skimming the warm skin of her back, then rising to her front. They engulfed the full, soft weight of her breasts through her bra, kneading firmly. A low groan vibrated from his chest into hers. Before she could process the intensity, his hands hooked into the neckline of her top. With a sharp, decisive rip of fabric, he tore it open down the front, buttons scattering silently onto the plush bedding. Cool air hit her skin, followed instantly by the searing heat of his palms on her bare breasts, shoving the torn fabric and bra cup aside. He massaged the soft flesh, thumbs circling her already hardened nipples with a delicious, almost punishing pressure that made her arch her back, pressing herself harder into his touch.
“Yes!” The word ripped from her throat, raw and unfiltered, a primal sound she barely recognized as her own. She pushed her head back, offering herself, lost in the sheer, overwhelming sensation. His mouth left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, his breath scorching. He reached her collarbone, then lower, capturing one tight peak between his lips, sucking hard, swirling his tongue. Pleasure, sharp and deep, lanced straight to her core, coiling tight. She cried out again, fingers clenching in his hair, urging him on, grinding instinctively against the hardness beneath her. “Devon… please…”
Then, like icy water dousing flames, awareness slammed back. Too fast. Too much. What am I doing? The ghost of Marcus’s indifference, the echo of feeling untouched and then suddenly overwhelmed, collided violently with the present intensity. Panic seized her, cold and sharp beneath the heat. She froze. Her hands flew from his hair to push weakly against his shoulders. "Wait—" she gasped, tearing her mouth away, her voice strangled. "Stop. Stop, please." Shame, hot and sudden, washed over her, warring with the physical need still throbbing insistently. "I can't... I feel... wrong."
Devon froze instantly, lips still wet from her skin, his hands still gripping her bare waist. He pulled back just enough to look up at her, his gaze traveling the heated path between her huge exposed breasts to lock intensely with her terrified eyes. He didn't want to stop; the raw need vibrating through him was a physical ache, and he knew how desperately she needed it too, felt it in the tremble of her body against his. But he stopped. His hands slid slowly, deliberately, from her skin back to the rumpled silk sheets beside her hips, his breath ragged as he held her terrified gaze. "Okay," he rasped, the single word thick with restraint and understanding, leaving Cherish trembling above him, exposed and utterly conflicted.