We sit across from each other at the dining table.
She’s changed—wearing the new pajamas I had brought in for her. Soft fabric, dark, simple. They fit her like they were meant to, which annoys me more than it should.
She eats like she doesn’t trust the meal, even though I took a bite of everything on her plate.
I watch her pick at the steak, cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces before she finally takes a bite. Her jaw works carefully, like chewing hurts.
It probably does.
That bruise on her face is fading, but still there. Her hair’s unbraided now—dark waves falling around her shoulders, softer than anything that should belong to someone like her. It catches the light when she moves. Shiny. Almost pretty.
I shake that off.
Doesn’t matter.
I stab my final piece of steak, chew once, swallow, and keep watching her. She’s still eating, small bites, slow as hell.
She notices me staring. Like she feels my eyes.
But she doesn’t stop.
She sits back in her chair like she owns the room, one leg crossed, shoulders loose. Like she’s not in the house of a man who pinned another man’s hand to a table earlier today.
I clear my throat.
“So? Going where I go.” I tilt my head. “Live up to whatever fantasy you had?”
She shrugs without looking at me.
“Better than being stuck here.”
She takes another tiny bite, slow as ever.
I’m done eating. My patience is razor-thin. I lean forward, studying the way her throat moves when she swallows, the way her lips part slightly when she pulls in a breath.
“You always eat this slow?”
She glances up, annoyed.
“I actually ate today, so I can eat at a normal pace, I guess.”
I huff. Sit back again. She’s still chewing.
Fuck it.
“I wanna eat you,” I say.
Her fork stops mid-air.
She looks up, eyes narrowing like she’s not sure she heard me right.
“…excuse me?”
“Not like lick your clit or tongue your hole eat you,” I gesture lazily.
“I mean actuallyconsumeyou. Bury you under my skin. Swallow you whole so you live in my bloodstream and can never get out.”
She just stares.
