“You came prepared.”
“Well, you said you were coming from work, so I figured you might be hungry.”
Although he says it matter-of-factly, I can feel warmth spread inside my belly. I can’t remember the last time somebody worried about me being hungry besides my parents. Never. That’s the answer. Never.
“It’s not that deep,” Matthew protests as he cracks open one of the containers.
But that’s where he’s wrong. It is that deep. He doesn’t have to do anything nice for me. After all, this is only for show. It would be just as simple to show up and play our parts, but he does it because this is him.
He grabs one of the crackers, extending it toward me. “Eat.”
“Seriously?” I narrow my eyes at him. “What am I? Five?”
Matthew doesn’t budge, though. “Apparently, since you still haven’t had a bite.”
“I can take my own food.”
“Well, I’m a dutiful boyfriend, so I’m taking it upon myself to feed you.”
I give him a warning look, but he stubbornly waits, not moving a muscle.
“This is silly.”
“I’m glad we can agree on something,” he replies, his voice dropping lower. “Open that pretty mouth for me, Richards.”
That deep baritone sends a shiver running down my spine as illicit thoughts fill my mind.
Me. On my knees. His callused finger skimming over my chin, coaxing my lips to part as he whispers those exact words to me. Only this time, it’s not food he’d be feeding me. My mouth waters at the idea.
As if he can read my mind, Matthew’s gaze zeroes in on my mouth.
I swallow hard. My teeth graze over my lower lip. My stomach squeezes, and my thighs press together.
Get your head out of the gutter, girl, I chastise myself as I lean forward, ready to be done with this.
Only, when my teeth sink into the cracker, my lips brush against his fingers.
Fire blazes in Matthew’s eyes as he watches me, his jaw clenched tight.
My pussy pulses with need, reminding me it’s been a long time since it’s gotten any attention.
Way too long.
I really need to get laid.
Not that it’s going to happen anytime soon considering our little scheme.
I chew slowly before swallowing. “Happy?”
A low grumble comes out of Matthew’s chest, and I can’t quite pinpoint if it’s annoyance or frustration he’s feeling.
“Not even close.”
His voice is pure gravel as he reaches down, not once moving his gaze from me, and this time, he picks up a grape and offers it to me.
“Are you going to feed me the whole time?”
“Until you start eating on your own.”
