His arms tighten even more, and he buries his lips in my hair. “You’re so fucking amazing, Eloise.”
I glance up at him and smile at the affection glowing in his blue eyes.
“I think you’re amazing. Okay, I’m hitting the shower.”
“Good. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
My legs are weary from all of the working out with Mateo as I climb the stairs. A hot shower sounds like heaven right now.
And when I get to our bathroom, my heart stutters. He bought me my favorite shower steamers that smell like lilac. I have no idea if he went out to find them on his own or if he sent someone for them, but either way, it makes my heart thud a little harder in my chest.
I’ve fallen in love with this man so quickly. And when he does things like this, how can I resist him?
The inside of my left bicep is sore from where he injected the tracking device earlier today. There’s a little bruise the size of my fingerprint, but when I rub over it, I can’t even feel it there.
I asked him why he put mine in my arm and his in his neck, and he told me it would hurt worse in the neck, and he refused to let me feel more pain than necessary.
I take my time, washing my body and letting the hot water beat down on muscles that I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever, that are whimpering for mercy. I wash my hair and shave all of the things. When I’mfinished, I slather lotion all over my body, brush out my hair, and then dry it most of the way before twisting it up into a tight bun on the top of my head.
After pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and a loose tank, I pad downstairs and find my man in the kitchen, warming soup in a pot on the stove.
There are two grilled cheese sandwiches on plates, ready to go.
“I had no idea you were so handy in the kitchen.”
He turns and grins at me, and then his eyes take a slow stroll down my body, from the bun on my head to the tips of my toes and back up again.
“I have a few talents you don’t know about,” he says. “The soup is ready. Have a seat, firefly.”
“I can help?—”
“Sit.”
Again, his tone is hard. Commanding.
Dominant.
Sexy.
I cross to a stool at the island and have a seat. Rome ladles up some soup in a bowl and passes it to me along with one of the sandwiches.
I’ve just taken a bite, watching as Rome dishes up for himself, when he turns to stand opposite me and casually asks, “Do you have a safe word?”
Forty-Eight
ROME
Those gorgeous green eyes widen as her spoon pauses halfway to her mouth, and she watches me.
“What?”
“You heard me.” I take a bite and chew thoughtfully, my blood simmering. “I won’t ask again.”
I’m in a mood tonight. I want to dominate her. I want to control her.
I need to take care of her.
This piece of myself doesn’t often come out to play, but when it does, there’s no satiating it any other way.
