“You’ve asked,” he interrupted. “In fact, I answered two. What do I want from you, and what am I.”
“That was before you set the rule,” I snapped.
He turned away again, picking up another plate. “Then ask your next question tomorrow.”
God, he was insufferable.
I rolled my eyes and picked up the fork. Then dropped it because taking a bite would mean I trusted him.
But that scent…
It was intoxicating.
“Stop being difficult,” he said, voice dipped lower than usual, the edge of a command now stretching beneath it.
He placed the second plate in front of me, the portions generous and the presentation almost intimate in how much attention it had clearly been given.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the counter.
My gaze lifted to him slowly, climbing his forearms resting on the counter, sleeves rolled down to hide what I assumed would beveins and muscles that would feel sinful to trace with fingers. I dragged my eyes higher—to his neck, taut and corded, where a vein ran down the side.
And then his face.
Beautiful.
His hair fell slightly over his eyes, and he didn’t move it. Just let it hang there while his eyes locked onto mine with unshakable intensity.
Then his eyes flicked briefly to the food. And back to me.
Eat.
I swallowed and lifted the fork again, almost obeying without a thought. I scooped up a piece of soft meat glazed in some dark and shimmering sauce, judging it with a hard gaze.
But before I could lift it to my mouth, he leaned down, and I froze.
He didn’t break eye contact, didn’t hesitate. His face neared mine, his mouth parting slightly, not for a kiss, but for the food.
Myfood.
His lips opened over the fork slowly. And I watched, utterly helpless, as he wrapped them around the bite I’d prepared for myself.
And I—
My entire body went still.
The way his lips sealed around the fork. The faint sound of him sucking in the flavour as he pulled back. The slow draw of his throat when he swallowed. The way his tongue ran over his lower lip after—it was so erotic that I felt it right between my thighs, like he was cleaning the taste of me off his mouth even though I wasn’t the one he was eating.
It’s insane. Foreplay coded.
I forgot how to hold the fork.
My hand just stayed there, suspended in the air like a fool, every muscle numb except the ones clenching in places I didn’t want to acknowledge.
Even my ovaries felt that.
Shit.
Was there a perfect way to chew meat? Because he was doing it while staring at me like he could see every one of my unguarded thoughts.
