“Exactly.” That was the problem. She denied herself. “You’re going to eat a bit more.”
She pressed her mouth closed, but I bounced her hard on my lap.
This time, her thighs rubbed against each other.
Heat pulsed through my shaft. I knew the ways of her body, knew the details and signs well enough. Amanda was turned on. Fighting it, yes. But her body couldn’t lie to me.
Alright, I’ll give you what you need.
Fiendish delight surged hot under my skin. I resisted the urge to drop my hand on her thigh, to begin to tease her.
She needed to eat more first.
Then…dessert.
I forced more dinner down her throat. Not only was it fun to make her bend to my will, knowing that she was wholly and completely under my care, lessened a knot of worry I didn’t know I had. She was done starving and overworking herself. The root of that problem was something only time would fix, and I had to proceed carefully to train her body to accept a healthy amount of calories. If I had to hand feed her every meal, then that was exactly what I was going to do. I liked that dark thought.
This had the potential to become my new favorite addiction.
Only when I was satisfied that she’d eaten enough did I push her plate away. Mine wasn’t empty either, but I would finish it later. I didn’t waste food—especially good food.
Prison had a way of making me appreciate the small things.
“You ate well,” I murmured, grazing my knuckles down the column of her throat. “I think it’s time for dessert.”
She jerked against the arm caging her. “Vincenzo, no! I don’t want sugar. I don’t eat that stuff.”
“Who said anything about sugar?” This time, I pressed my lips against her pulse, enjoying the way it fluttered in response.So fucking sweet.
“Youdidn’t clean your plate, either.”
Miss Sassy. With a low growl of pleasure, I sucked the delicate skin hard. My hand skated down the front of her dress. Those lean, muscled thighs clenched as I brushed over them, reaching under the skirt.
“I’ve waited a long time for this.” Her skin was warm and soft against my fingers. “My supper can wait.”
The thin cotton panties hugged her body. I slipped a finger along the center, feeling wetness seep through. A rough groan rumbled through my chest.
“Look at how ready you are for me.” I stroked my finger back and forth.
Amanda’s breath changed. Short, hard bursts. I knew she wanted to deny it, but there was no hiding from the truth. I teased my fingers against her for a few more seconds, until her body arched slightly against me.
It wasn’t a fight.
It was surrender.
Pushing away from the table, I moved to the far end and lay her down. I misjudged her compliance when she tried to wriggle away from me. Pinning her legs, I bunched the dress and tugged it up her stomach. The cotton panties were grey with a tiny pink bow on the upper elastic. There was a damp spot in the middle.
“Why fight this?” I brushed the wetness. “We both know you want it.”
“Principle,” she ground out.
“Fuck your principles,” I growled and slid my hands under her ass.
The curve of her body was achingly familiar, which made little sense. She was more fit ten years ago, and while she still kept a strict workout regimen, there was a slimness about her that I hated. Still, I squeezed and stroked the flesh before pulling the panties down her thighs.
I sucked in a sharp breath when I saw what lay beneath.
Bare skin, with a few prickled red spots. Not a piece of hair to be seen.
