A deep blush colored her cheeks as her eyes darted from his face to the space he had indicated. Surely, she had misunderstood.
“Your G-Grace… I… I am not sure if I understand what you wish for me to do here,” she managed to splutter out, her cheeks burning.
“I thought I had been sufficiently clear, but no problem. Let me show you what I mean.”
Simon’s hand reached out and circled her waist. Before she could even think of protesting—if she were even to do such a thing—he began to pull down gently and guided her onto his lap.
She was far too close to him now, and her thoughts were growing cloudier by the minute. It was enough that she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, but another thing entirely to sit so close to him—on top of him. Their skin touched, and despite the barrier of clothing that separated them, it felt far too intimate.
But more importantly, it feltentirelyinappropriate. Simon seemed unfazed as he carried on speaking, shaking his head to signal his exasperation.
“I think you have a problem with being too stubborn,” he carried on as though she was not seated on his lap at this moment. “If you are not going to feed yourself, then I am going to have to take matters into my own hands.”
His voice was gruff, and Rachel could feel the reverberations that it sent across her entire body. A part of her wished to melt further into him, but she snapped herself out of it quickly.
”I—This is highly improper,” she managed to stutter out. “We are at the breakfast table.”
“And we are doing what one does at a breakfast table,” Simon replied. “I am making sure that you eat.”
“I can sit on my own chair and feed myself,” she said, though her voice lacked any sort of conviction.
“There is no need,” Simon smirked in response.
“But what if someone sees…” Rachel said, straining her neck to look behind her. But Simon grabbed firmly onto her waist, holding her in place.
“You must relax,” he said. “It seems that I have to be the one to remind you now that the two of us are married. It does not matter. Besides, if anyone sees and chooses to have an opinion about it, then you need not worry. I will make sure that it is handled.”
Before she could argue further, he reached for a piece of bread from his plate, his other hand steadying her by the hip—the contact making her heart race.
“Open,” he said simply, holding up the piece of bread to her lips.
“Surely I can eat in my own chair…” she rambled, but he shot her a look that shut her up immediately. She did as she was told, parting her lips and taking a small bite.
“Good,” he murmured. “You’re so much more pleasant when you listen.”
She felt her mind growing dizzy again. He fed her another bite, and she ate it. This time, she did not protest.
And she wanted him to feed her.
If this was how he was going to devote attention to her every time she forgot to eat, then perhaps she would forget to do so more often.
He was being patient, waiting for her to finish chewing before offering another bite. All the while, he never took his gaze away from her.
She had never thought of herself as sufficiently interesting to be observed for this long. She almost wanted to ask him why he was still looking at her.
But somehow, she felt herself unable to concentrate. Being able to come up with words would prove to be even more difficult.
As he continued to feed her, she felt her hunger for food diminish and another kind of hunger take its place.
Simon’s thumb brushed her hip absently, and Rachel shivered at the sensation. Worried about losing control entirely, she cleared her throat in desperation, coughing as she did.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, a bit too close. “Something stuck in your throat?”
“No,” she answered in a rush. “I feel full now. Thank you.”
“Strange,” he mused, setting down the piece he had selected to feed her. “I feel even hungrier.”
It was as though he had read her mind. Was he talking about the same hunger? The thought alone was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
