Fuck.Let’s try an ‘I’ statement,Gia’s voice chimes. I click my tongue with annoyance, but make an effort. “Ifeel…irritated… when you throw your needs away.”
“Why?” His voice softens. This is finally the right track.
“Because you deserve better.”
“Oh…”
The beast finally wants something other than violence or sex, and it catches me off-guard. It wants to fold around Jamie, to pull him in close, to make sure his needs are always taken care of.
But that impulse is even more dangerous than the others, and I force my gaze back over the horizon and take in a deeper breath of fresh air.
Jamie shuffles. “It’s been a long day. I think webothdeserve room service.”
“Hm. You didn’t have to lay it on so thick before,” I say, stepping back inside to find the menu.
“When?”
“Are you reallythatexcited about room service?”
“Yes,” Jamie scoffs. “It’s like…magic. You ask for food and it just… appears.”
My eyes narrow slightly as I analyze his face, but I see only his usual earnestness. “That’s also how restaurants work.”
“Yeah, but… you’reata restaurant. Room service like…shows up in your bedroom.”
I glance at the menu, make my selections, then hand it to Jamie so I can go check on the bottle of rosé.
“Would it make me soundout of touchif I said, ‘That’s what private chefs are for’?”
Jamie snorts and throws a pillow at me.
“Hey!” A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “Watch it.” I level a finger at him.
Jamie’s spine goes straight, his cheeks flush. My blood roars.Fuck. I turn away and focus on the rosé. It’s a sub-par vintage. Normally, I would send something like this right back,but as it is, I need a fucking drink. I peel the foil off and get to work on the cork.
Jamie buries himself in the room service menu.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I don’t know… there’s so many choices…” There’s a rustle as he turns the page again.
I twist the bottle opener with brisk, practiced movements. “Pick the one that you like best.”
“Everythinglooks so good though…”
“Then order everything.”
Jamie chuckles.
“I’m serious.”
“But I can’t eat everything. Not even close.”
“So?”
“That would be wasteful,” Jamie says firmly.
I scoff. “So you have at least one opinion.”
