Fuck, I love this woman.
“I don’t eat before coffee.” She shrugs, then sinks lower into the bed, snuggling down beneath the covers. When she closes her eyes, I huff out a breath.
“If you won’t feed yourself, I’ll feed you.” I smirk when her eyes flash with indignance, then I tap the fresh berry against her lips. “Open.”
She runs her tongue across her teeth, then rolls her eyes.
Oh, she wants to play brat and brat tamer, does she?
Fine by me.
“We skipped out on dinner, and we worked out all night long.” When my words have the desired effect, and her cheeks flush, I tap the strawberry against her lips again. Honestly, I expected her to be a bit more pliable after that orgasm I just gave her. Not that I don’t love this stubborn side of her as well. Maybe even more than compliance. “Open.”
Her gaze drops to my side and her mouth falls open. I take the opportunity to push the strawberry inside.
“Good girl,” I say—
And then I freeze.
Because her eyes are like saucers.
Fuck.
My heart bangs against my ribs, a frantic, wild beat. My mouth goes dry, my tongue trapped to the roof of it and unable to form words. But I have to saysomething.
Anything.
Fuck!
She knows.
Those honeyed-amber eyes are searching mine for answers to questions she already knows the answers to.
Sheknows.
It’s evident in the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her nostrils flare as her breath quickens. The way her eyes have gone so wide you’d think she saw a ghost. The way that she pulls away from me, the growing distance between us tangible, painful… even though she hasn’t physically moved.
“Sutton, I—”
She shakes her head, then her mouth moves robotically as she chews through what’s left of that bite of fruit, and my circle of vision gets smaller and smaller as I wait.
My heart and my world are about to implode and all I can do is sit here andwait.
She swallows hard and her eyes drift down to my torso, then back up to my face.
Then down again, like she’s trying to make sense of something.
Looking down, I realize what I’ve done.
Fucking Christ, it’s as simple as that.
Three little dots.
She’s traced those freckles every time I’ve held her in my arms after a scene.
I close my eyes on a long blink, the pain in my chest threatening to crush my lungs. When I finally look up at her, the sheen of tears in her eyes steals my breath. I rock forward as agony rips through my chest, bracing myself with a hand on the edge of the bed.
“What have you done?”
