It totally was. Grams taught me everything she knew, but my Mom was also no slouch in the kitchen.

“Please stop talking,” I begged.

He didn’t.

“Fight and die for that privilege, Hanna.”

I swallowed back tears then warned, “If you don’t shut up, you’re going to make me cry.”

Raiden shut up, but didn’t move. He just stood there staring at me.

So I asked what I was going to ask before, “Honey, do you want a beer?”

“I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

He pushed away from the post and walked into the house.

I did not find the courage to talk to him about my concerns about our morning conversation.

No, the truth was that sharing my concerns didn’t once enter my mind.

* * * * *

That night…

Raiden was back on his calves, his h*ps powering up. I was straddling him, back to his front, his arms around me, his hands moving everywhere.

I was unraveling.

His hand slid down then glided across my belly, and not even thinking about it, my hand covered his and slid it up.

Taking mine with it, his slid back down to my belly.

I slid it up.

His hand stilled then glided to my side, down and in. My hand still over his, I felt his middle finger press in, circle. His h*ps surged up, he filled me, my head flew back, a moan drifted up my throat and I shot to pieces.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later…

Naked in Raiden’s arms, I cuddled closer, my eyes drooping, sleep close.

“What was that?” his voice rumbled into me.

“Sorry?” I murmured.

“With your belly, baby.”

I blinked into the dark, suddenly not sleepy in the slightest. “Uh… sorry?”

“Want all-access, Hanna. You got some issues with me touchin’ your stomach?”

Oh God.

“Um…” I mumbled then said no more.

Raiden’s body tensed then pressed into mine so I was on my back and his shadow was looming over me.

Then he grunted, “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Do not wanna ask this shit, but did some f**kwad do somethin’ fucked with your stomach?”

I was baffled by this question so I repeated, “What?”

“Babe, you don’t want it, we won’t do it, but like I said, I want all-access and that might include me comin’ on you. Is that gonna be an issue for you?”

I didn’t answer. My mind was filled with Raiden coming on me, and how if he did that I’d get to watch, and how I kind of wanted to do that immediately.

“Hanna,” he called.

“What?” I answered distractedly.

His hand came up and cupped my jaw. “Honey, talk to me,” he urged gently.

God, he was being sweet and he totally had the wrong end of the stick.

So I found myself blurting, “I have a pouch.”

I watched the shadow of his head twitch and he asked, “You have a what?”

This was not fun in any way.

But I couldn’t have him thinking some “fuckwad” did something “fucked” to my stomach.

“I, um… well, am not exactly toned there like you’re, well… toned… or more like cut, well… everywhere.”

“So?”

I blinked into the dark.

“So?” I repeated.

“Yeah, so?” he asked.

I didn’t know what to do with that question so I remained silent.

Raiden didn’t.

He asked strangely, “Are you shitting me?”

I didn’t know what do to do with that question either. What I did know was I wasn’t shitting him, though I also didn’t know what he thought I was shitting him about.

“Well, no,” I answered, and suddenly his shadow was gone and the bed swayed because his big body landed on its back beside mine.

“Jesus, women are so f**kin’ whacked,” he informed the ceiling.

I pulled the covers up to my chest, lifted up on an elbow and twisted his way.

“Sorry?”

I felt his eyes on me in the dark. “Babe, guys like pu**y,” he declared.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“A woman’s gotta smell good and she needs to take care of herself. By that I mean, she’s gotta wash her hair, shave her legs and work it, whatever it is she’s workin’. Her clothes, the way she does up her face, the way she moves, it doesn’t f**kin’ matter. She does that and has a sweet pu**y, a guy does not give a f**k and gets off on whatever wraps that package.”

I wasn’t sure that made me feel better and I communicated this by saying a disbelieving, “All right.”

Raiden got up on his elbow to face me, his arm moving to wrap around my waist and haul my lower body against his.

“That’s not entirely true,” he carried on. “Some guys like big tits, some guys don’t give a shit about tits and like a round ass. Some want long legs. Some want short women they can protect or feel like they can dominate. But brass tacks, it’s about the pu**y.”

I was sure this didn’t make me feel better, therefore I asked, “So essentially, if it’s female, a man will sleep with it?”

“No, essentially a man won’t f**k anything he doesn’t want and women have got to get it in their heads that if he’s givin’ her his dick, he likes what he’s burying his dick inside.”

Well, that was certainly clear, if crude, and something that again left me with no response.

“Hanna, baby,” his voice had gentled and his arm pulled me closer, “what I’m sayin’ is, we like what we like, we’re drawn to what we’re drawn to and I wouldn’t be f**kin’ you if I didn’t want what you’re givin’ me. All of what you’re givin’ me. You’re pretty. You smell good. You’re legs are f**kin’ amazing. You’ve got great tits. You’re toned and in shape but soft in great f**kin’ places and I like it like that. Add you bein’ cute, dorky, sweet and f**kin’ hilarious, it’s perfect. All of it.”

Okay, that made me feel better.

I thought, for the first time in a long time, about the woman I saw him with, petite and skinny-minnie.

“So, you, uh… like tall and curvy, not short and skinny?” I asked.

“No, I like tits and hair, however those come, but what they gotta come with, what turns me on most, are smells and personality. You might think that’s bullshit, but it’s true. You got all that, but add your legs and I don’t have to court a backache in order to take your mouth, major bonus.”