Tentatively, I grabbed my plate and carried it over to him, setting it down gently next to his arm. “You should eat.”
He grunted at me, doing nothing more to move other than let out another long sigh.
The smooth expanse of skin on his back begged to be touched. My fingers tingled with the need to trace the lines of his muscles and test how hard they were underneath the soft surface. For someone who pulled ridiculous hours locked inside of a hospital, he kept himself surprisingly well groomed and maintained.
When did he even have the time to go to the gym and exercise?
Or keep the rest of him well kept?
If I worked half the amount of hours he did on a weekly basis, I’d be lucky if I could drag myself into the shower three times a week, let alone care enough to maintain the upkeep on my shaved happy trail and face.
I lifted my hand to touch him, hesitating right before I made contact.
Poking the bear was stupid, especially in this state where he seemed less than enthused to be bothered. Getting your personal space invaded so soon after clearly just rolling out of bed—no doubt to investigate the smell of food being cooked from down the hall—and with no time to prep before mayhem, would piss me off, too.
Then again, if there was anything I wanted to do before I left today it was to feed him something as a form of gratitude.
I nudged his shoulder a few times. “Silas.”
Turned out, it was actuallymewho had the death wish and not Marlow after all.
To my surprise, he pushed back from the table suddenly and sat back in his seat. One arm came up to loop around my waist to tug me sideways, hard enough to shift me off my feet and pull me down into his lap.
My body flushed with heat at the unexpected manhandling. His other hand pressed at my chest until my back was flush with him and then wandered down to my bare thigh, knocking my legs apart in order to wrap his hand around one of them. His hold was tight as he locked his fingers around the meaty part of my leg, sending a zing of pleasure rocketing up my spine.
This felt possessive.
Domineering.
Greedy.
When he peeled his other hand from around my waist, he used it to grab the fork off the plate and cut into the omelet, stabbing it once and then lifting it up to my lips.
My mouth parted in surprise.
What... the hell was happening?
Sleep deprivation. That was the only explanation here.
“Whatever they told you,” he muttered, wiggling the egg against my lips. “Ignore it. They were being annoying.”
I wanted to roll my ass back into his hips and test how fast he could get hard while still half asleep.
Did his dominant side depend on his sleep cycle or was that his natural state?
“So, what you’re saying is I shouldn’t believe what they said about that time in middle school.”
His nails bit into my thigh.
“What?”
I worked my teeth on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to keep from smiling as I shifted just enough to look over my shoulder at him. “I’m kidding.”
He let out a small snort, shoving the fork past my lips before letting his head fall back to rest against the seat behind him. “I wouldn’t put it past them to tell you something like that.”
I chewed slowly. “Really?”
He hummed in response, his eyes falling closed while he rested the fork down on the table.
