Because I'd been dreaming about doing all those things with him for months, too.
“Now, eat.”He held the fork of spaghetti to my mouth.“Before it gets cold.”
On command, I opened.But before he placed the food in my mouth, I said, “You seem to have a thing about feeding me.”Then I accepted his offered food.And he was right—it was getting cold.But that didn't mean it wasn't delicious.
Stefan gave me a half-smile and stared at me—unblinkingly.“Oh, it's much more than a,” he paused long enough to twirl more of the spaghetti and meat sauce onto the fork, “thing.”He emphasized that word like it held weight.A weight I didn't really understand.
All I knew was that having Stefan look after me like this was not a turnoff.Not one bit.
I chewed.And while I did, Stefan watched.
At one point, I offered to take the fork and do it myself.To which he promptly frowned and stated, “Absolutely not.”
Yeah.
Stefan one hundred percent had some kind of issue.
The thing was—
I liked it.
2
Francesca
Iwas full.
That didn't mean I stopped eating.
Mostly because I knew about Stefan's—plans.
And I knew the second I said I was done eating—he would move onto the next part of his—plans.
And even though I really, really, really wanted to take part in his next—plan—I was also more than a little nervous.
Which was stupid.
Stefan had seen every bit of my body.And from what I remembered, he enjoyed every one of those bits.
A lot.
But that didn't mean I was fully prepared to do what he wanted to do.
I'd never had sex with him before.
I'd never had sex with anyone before.Stefan knew that.
And he also was catching on to my game.Because he said, “Are you still hungry?Or are you just stalling?”His voice was steadyand calm.No hint of annoyance or anger.
I bit my lip.“Stalling,” was all I said as my heart sped up.
Stefan laughed in a low, smexy tone as he shook his head.Then he unceremoniously stood up—plate and fork in his hands—and walked to the back of the plane again.Not a minute later, I heard a popping sound that alarmed me.I jumped and looked over to where he was.Stefan's eyes found mine.He held up the bottle in his hands.“It's just champagne.I should have warned you.”
My heart started beating again, and I took a deep breath and shrugged.“It's okay,” I said, even though it was absolutely not okay.The last thing in the world I wanted to hear on my first flight was a loud popping sound.I watched as he poured two long flutes nearly full.The whiskey he'd given me earlier had worn off.And now he was going to insist I have a glass of champagne.It might help my nerves, though.And since I wasn't getting off this plane for several hours—I imagined that was going to give Stefan more than enough time to complete his mission.
He walked back to me—two fluted glasses in one hand and the bottle of champagne in the other.He set the bottle in a round holder on the table and handed me a glass.After Stefan sat back down beside me, he turned and said, “To my beautiful wife,” and clinked his glass to mine.
His use of the word “wife” completely took my breath away.I mean, yes, I knew it was fake.I wasn't really his wife.Well, legally I was.But that was only to save me from Raul.I knew full well that Stefan wouldn't have married me if a madman wasn't currently after me.
