Just because she’s not as pretty when she does.
The fact that my chest got all tight and hot when she started has nothing to do with anything.
“Got your favorite food, sweetheart.”
She glances up, too tired for a proper glare. “A sandwich from my deli?”
“Sorry, no such luck.” I stop at the foldout table I dragged over earlier and unlid a container of cold spaghetti slathered in red sauce. “I brought the food of your people.” I kneel, container in hand, and scoop noodles into my fingers. “Down the hatch.”
Cat opens wide like a good baby birdy. I drop the noodles, which mostly land in her mouth. She’s starving, as she shouldbe. Though she doesn’t know, the woman hasn’t eaten in at least a dozen hours.
“In we go.” I hold up another scoop.
She opens her sauce-covered mouth as I throw the second clump at her.
The noodles hit her chest. “Fuck you, Connor.” She picks them off her negligee, leaving a red stain behind. As she shovels them down, her expression remains free of every emotion except pure determination to survive. This is extremely entertaining.
It’s the least she deserves after trying to kill me.
I get the next bite ready, tempt her, then tilt my head back and eat it myself, with way more finesse than she’s doing. I was trying to torture her just a little bit more with this dish, but I have to admit, it’s pretty delicious.
When she kicks at my shin, I seize her ankle, squeezing tight.
“You might want to think before you do that again. A bathroom break after mealtime is on the line here.”
I mash another fistful of spaghetti on her face like its wedding cake. She manages to snag my finger and bite down.
I hiss as I yank away. “Ouch.” After shaking my hand, I wipe the remains of the sauce on the side of her negligee. “That wasn’t nice.”
Instead of the pretty little thing I picked up at the museum, she looks like a feral cat.
Even covered in sauce and noodles and glaring with the force of a thousand daggers, she’s still beautiful.
In the aftermath of her breakdown earlier, I was a little worried she’d lose her spark, but the fiery woman who sent me into a deathtrap still exists, albeit shivering on the cold concrete floor.
Thank God.
I seize another fistful of cold noodles. “You’ve got to keep up your strength, right? Eat up.”
She shoots arrows from her eyes and shifts away, as pissed off as I’ve ever seen her. I think she even growls.
It’s hard not to laugh considering she has red sauce all over her face and noodles perched on her tits.
I drop the slop back in the container. “Oh, you want to give me the silent treatment now?” Scooting closer, I lean to the side for a better view of her face. “I’m in charge here, Cat.” I pick a stray noodle off her thigh, my fingers brushing her skin.
Her breasts rise and fall as she watches me slurp down the noodle, and she licks her lips as her eyes track my throat.
I’ll be damned. This turns her on.
“Wow, Cat. Who would’ve thought that sadomasochism was your thing?” I grin, reaching out to brush my thumb through the sauce on her cheek.
She glares but doesn’t deny my words.
Death’s knocking on her door, yet despite that and my callous treatment, I’m still turning her on. My cock starts to stiffen. I set the spaghetti aside and adjust myself as I stand.
Apparently we’re both aroused.
She may let her entire family sideline her every single day, but she’s tough as nails. She’s not the fragile, scared woman who was here just a few minutes ago. She breathed and recovered, and that’s ridiculously attractive.
