“Help?” she questions with so much fucking innocence in her eyes, I’m not sure I believe she ever worked in a fucking strip club.
Dropping the shirt to the comforter, I curl my fingers around the waist of her shorts and slowly tug them down. The denim slips over her hips too easily, cementing my certainty that she used to have curves that have melted away.
There isn’t a hint of embarrassment as I slip the shorts off her feet and drop them to the floor. Reaching for her shirt next, I slowly tug it up and over her head, dropping it on top of the shorts. Leaning around her, I unfasten her bra and slide it down her arms until she’s naked in only her panties and so unashamed that my dick is a steel fucking rod in my pants.
Stopping myself from touching or licking or sucking on any of her sexy skin, I drag my shirt over her head, holding it while she pushes her arms through the sleeves.
“That’s better,” I rasp, my voice rough and desperate.
“It’s better now you’ve put clothes on me?” she asks, a little of her ire from earlier slipping back into her tone.
“Fuck no, amore mio. But I can’t start touching you now, or I’ll never stop. I don’t hate seeing you in my clothes and knowing that the only thing you have on underneath is your wet panties.”
“They’re not wet,” she protests.
Happy for the opening, I push my hand between her thighs and cup her sex, feeling the heat and dampness seeping into my palm. “My pussy is feeling pretty hot and wet to me,” I whisper, not moving my hand as I lean forward and press my lips against hers.
The kiss is soft and sweet and so much shorter than I want, but I need to make sure that she gets what this is and what it’s not. “Stay here, amore mio. Let me go and grab your cell.”
Running downstairs, I snatch the cell off the counter, then grab a bottle of juice, a candy bar, the tub of blueberries, and a protein bar from the kitchen, cradling them in my arms as I climb the stairs two at a time, eager to get back to her as quickly as possible.
“Here, eat,” I say, opening the candy bar first and holding it to her lips.
“I’m not hungry,” she protests.
Growling, I shake my head. “I warned you, Verity. I’ll happily take your anger and fear, but I don’t want your lies. You’re hungry, and feeding you is one of the bare minimum ways I want to take care of you. So eat.”
Parting her lips, she takes a bite, but I see the reluctance in her eyes. Making her understand this is how it’s going to be between us is going to be an uphill battle, made harder by hermisconceptions of the last couple of days. But that’s okay. I’m more than ready for the challenge.
As she chews, I pick up a blueberry and hold it to her lips. Once she’s swallowed the bite of candy bar, she parts her lips, and I place the blueberry on her tongue, watching her eat it while I open the juice I brought for her.
Instead of offering her the bottle, I bring it to my lips first and take a sip. It’s tart and sweet and cold. Placing the bottle to her mouth, her eyes stay on me as I tilt it, watching as it slowly fills her mouth. Lastly, I open the protein bar, breaking off a bit and feeding it to her.
It’s not enough, but I’m hoping that now that they’re all open and in here, she’ll eat them. “Our next breakfast in bed will be much more fun without the clothes,” I tell her, smiling as heat flashes in her eyes.
“I could decide I don’t want this,” she reminds me somberly.
“I know,” I whisper, “but I won’t plan for the worst. I’ll hope for the best, and the best will be me crawling into bed with you and you showing me how wet you’ve gotten while you’ve been waiting for me. Maybe I’ll even let you tell me how you’ve played with my pussy while you waited for me to come and claim it. I might even let you show me,” I tease, watching as the muscles in her thighs clench and tighten at my words.
Sighing, I glance at my watch. “I have to go back to work, amore mio.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Are you still angry with me?”
She shrugs. “A little, maybe.”
“Okay.” Plugging her cell into the charger, I pull up my name in her contacts and hit dial. My cell rings, and I immediately answer, holding her cell out to her until she takes it. “Get used to the weight of it. Because you’re going to be carrying it with you from now on. As soon as I get into the car, my cell will connectwith my hands-free, and then you can tell me all about how much I’ve pissed you off, and I’ll spend the drive back to base apologizing and reassuring you, and then hopefully by the time I get to work, you won’t be too angry at all. Okay?”
“This is stupid,” she whines.
“No, amore mio, it’s not. Now promise me.”
“Promise you what?” she questions.
“That you won’t leave me for the next forty-eight hours.”
“I promise.”
