How I Met Henry (on hold)

Chapter 10

A/N: Trigger warning - discussion of past sexual abuse and rape. You will learn Raven's backstory in this chapter, and it is graphic, dark, and disturbing.

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Supper was finished and Henry was sitting at the kitchen table with the back of his head resting against the wall. He silently watched my backside while I washed our dishes, his empty gaze following my every move. I didn't mind. I was adjusting to the impression of his blue orbs on my body rather quickly. I knew I would be lonely without his eyes on me once he went home or to work. I wasn't looking forward to that.

Henry's inquisitive tone pulled me from my thoughts as I dropped a fork in the dish drainer. "Ya almost done, sweetheart? I know ya didn't have a lot ta warsh. That was a real good supper."

"Yeah," I replied, smiling to myself. "Thank you. I'm glad ya liked it."

"It was real tasty," he professed honestly. "I ain't had a good homecooked meal like that in a long time. Unless ya wanna count the diner, which I don't. I mean, they got good food, but it ain't got that home-cooked touch."

Grinning at him over my shoulder, I drank in his handsome features before turning back to the matter at hand. Those beautifully dead eyes were my favorite physical feature of his, his curly hair just barely sliding in second place. While thinking about caressing his muscled body, I rinsed the last dish and set it in the drainer to air dry.

"Okay, I'm done. That was the last one," I informed, washing any remaining soap from my hands.

"I would'a helped ya, but ya wouldn't let me," Henry declared, chuckling lightly. "Ya flat out told me no when I tried and smacked my hand away. I should give ya a spankin' fer that."

I giggled uncontrollably, unable to erase my goofy smile. A spanking sounded like a splendid idea. "I didn't need ya."

After turning off the sink faucet, I dried my hands on the dishtowel I had draped over my shoulder and hung it in its rightful place. The sound of Henry's chair scooting against the floor echoed in my ears as he stood up. When I turned to face him, he had already crossed the kitchen and was standing in front of me.

As my hazel ones locked with his blue ones, he stared down into my soul. Swimming in that warm fuzziness only he could make me feel, I instinctively reached for him. Stepping closer to him, I wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Ya wouldn't even lemme dry anythin'. Not one fork," Henry teased. Embracing me snugly, he tenderly kissed my lips.

"That's what the drainer's for," I stated, my smile widening.

"Lemme help next time. It ain't like I work and ya don't. We both work. I don't want ya ta think I'm lazy or feel taken advantage of. I ain't lazy, and I'd never take advantage o' ya." He smirked. "Not unless that's what ya want is fer me ta take advantage o' ya."

"Okay." My smile broadened. He was really sweet, wanting to help me with something so minute. "I didn't feel that way, though. If I wanted help, I would have asked. I wanted ta spoil ya. I like caterin'. Remember what I said 'bout bein' more of a sub? That kinda stuff goes with it. I wanted ta do the dishes."

"Yeah, I remember. That's why I said what I said 'bout ya wantin' me ta take advantage." He chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he kissed my lips again. "Can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Sure." Nodding, I inwardly swooned under his gaze. Sometimes, the way he looked at me took my breath away.

"The name ya have tatted below yer neck and the dates that go with it...the name spells David Caraway. What's that about?" Henry inquired, his head tilting slightly. "Relative o' yers?"