I reach over and grab a grape and a slice of cheese, leaning close and pushing it between his lips. He takes it eagerly, and I find my cock perking up at the sight. That mouth, his tongue. Everything about him makes me needy.
But I’ll refrain from engaging. He needs to rest. My dick can wait.
“This is an awesome tub,” he says after he swallows. “You could fit another whole person in here.”
“I had it custom-made. Specifically for threesomes.”
Ansel’s eyes narrow at that, and I quickly amend. “Not that I’m asking you to invite a third into our relationship. Just to be clear, I’m not sharing you. At all. Ever.”
“We aren’t in a relationship.”
I nuzzle his neck. “What else would you call it? A hostageship? Or maybe a hostage-with-benefits situationship? Neither of those really roll off the tongue. Relationship is just easier.”
His lips twitch, and he shakes his head. “God, you’re impossible. I don’t even know what to say.”
“No need to say anything. Just relax while I take care of you.” I feed him some more food, and in between bites, I make sure to appease my own appetite, all while sipping at my wine.
“Bet that’s expensive,” he says around a strawberry and a cracker.
“Sure is. The best wine around. Would you like to try some? You can’t have much with the concussion, but a sip or two will be okay.”
He holds out his sudsy hand and takes the glass I offer him. Hetakes a couple of tiny sips and sighs. “I’ve never had expensive wine before.”
“You haven’t?”
“No,” he chuckles. “My income bracket barely stretches to ramen, let alone nice wine. Took a long time before I realized wine doesn’t have to come in a box.”
“Huh.” Now my mind is racing, thinking about all the other things I can introduce Ansel to. Money is pretty much the only bonus to this lifestyle, and I fucking love spending it.
Something tells me I’d enjoy spending it on Ansel even more.
“In fact, I don’t remember the last time I even had a bath. Must’ve been when I was a kid in foster care.” He smiles sleepily at me. “It’s so nice.”
I vow here and now to run him daily baths if it keeps him smiling like that.
He leans back, his head resting against the edge of the tub. The new position throws his black eye into sharp relief. The sight of it is horrific, but it makes him no less beautiful.
I hate it though. The fact that he’s hurt because of me and my brothers only makes me angrier. Furious, even.
Hopefully punching Dalton will make me feel better.
“Why the crease in your forehead?” he asks.
I grunt. “Just upset at seeing your black eye.”
He touches it gingerly. “It’ll heal. I’ll be fine. It’s no less than I deserve.”
I pour myself more wine to help ease the frustration lingering inside of me. “Don’t say that again.”
Ansel’s cheeks pinken. “Don’t tell me what to do. Just because I have a concussion doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”
That makes me grin against the rim of my glass. It’s amazing how he can take my temper and tame it with a few words. “There’s my sassy little butterfly.”
He rolls his eyes and then opens his mouth, silently asking to be fed more food. I oblige, ever his humble servant.
We sit in the tub until our bellies are full and I’m slightlybuzzed from drinking almost a whole bottle of wine. When we get out, our skin is pink and our fingertips look like raisins, but Ansel looks relaxed and safe, not as stressed as he was in that small cabin.
I debate whether to question him now, but decide to wait. The last thing I want is for Ansel to get upset, especially when he’s this relaxed.
