“My woman.” A little thrill runs through me, hearing those words.
This relationship is probably going to be a total disaster, but right now, I’m so happy, I could burst.
Smiling, I stretch against him, pressing my breasts to the hard expanse of his chest. I love how hard he is.
Hard everywhere except for his eyes, which are achingly, adoringly soft.
“Nope. Just making an observation.”
He pulls me closer. We’re lying on our sides. I’m tucked into him, perfectly safe and warm, his scent in my nose and the slow, steady thump of his heart next to my ear. I could stay in this exact spot forever.
Into my hair, he whispers, “I have an observation, too.”
“Which is?”
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you when you come.”
My face flushes. I can’t tell if that feeling in my chest is pride or embarrassment, but I kind of like it.
“Ditto.”
He pauses. “Ditto? That’s my postcoital compliment?”
“Postcoital? We’re breaking out all the big words, I see.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m just a pretty face.”
He’s teasing. I love it when he teases me. It happens so infrequently. I say lightly, “Oh, no, I don’t. You have all kinds of impressive qualities besides your ravishing beauty.”
Another pause, this one longer.
I say, “You’re thinking the term ‘ravishing beauty’ doesn’t gel with your blistering machismo, am I right?”
“I mean, I guess it’s flattering.”
He sounds disturbed. I stifle a laugh, trying to play serious. “Except?”
“Except it makes me sound like a debutante in a Regency romance novel.”
It’s my turn to be disturbed. “How the hell do you know what a Regency romance novel is?”
“I have eclectic taste in literature.”
Incredulous, I rear up onto an elbow and stare at him. He’s smiling at me lazily, looking smug.
I say flatly, “You read romance.”
He pretends innocence, widening his eyes. “Why? Is that not something a ‘real’ man should do?”
I smack him on his brick wall of a pectoral muscle. “You’re pulling my leg.”
He goes from teasing to smoldering in the blink of an eye, growling, “I’d rather be pulling your hair as I fuck that delicious cunt of yours again.”
My god, the way he talks. The man is the Shakespeare of smut.
“You just did that.”
“Eons ago.”
“It was like twenty minutes.”
“Like I said. Eons.”
He grabs me and growls into my neck, making me squeal. Then he rolls on top of me, giving me all his substantial weight. I exhale with an audible oof.
“You weigh a ton!”
“You love it.”
I think for a moment, feeling him all over me. He’s a huge, all-man blanket, surrounding me and keeping me safe. Smashing me, but also keeping me safe.
He’s right. I do love it.
His chuckle shakes his chest. “Told you.”
“Quit being smug, you big—”
He captures my mouth before I can sass him more and kisses me deeply. I sink into the mattress, luxuriating in his taste and the heat he’s generating, until my lungs are about to collapse.
Slapping weakly at his back, I bleat, “Help. Suffocating. Death is imminent.”
“Drama queen.” He rolls over to his back, taking me with him.
I stiffen in surprise, then relax. Splayed on top of him, I grin down at his face. “Ah-ha! Now I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”
“This is where you want me? Flat on my back?”
I kiss him softly on the lips. “Yes. Flat on your back and helpless against me.”
Exhaling, his eyes thoughtful, he drags his hands through my hair. He murmurs, “My beautiful girl. I’ve been helpless against you from the first day we met.”
My heart skips a beat. There’s something far away in his gaze.
Something sad.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not bad. Just complicated.”
Examining his expression, I say, “I take it you’re not going to explain that.”
“Believe me when I say you don’t want me to.”
A little alarm bell goes off in the back of my mind when I realize he’s avoiding my eyes.
But this is what it is. What we are. What I’ve agreed to.
Secrets.
Not lies, but secrets—a lot of them—and distance, all in the name of keeping me safe.
Screw it.
If that’s the price for being with him, I’ll pay it. I spent too long walking through my days as a zombie to pass up this electric new life, even if it does have its dark sides.
All fairy tales do.
18
Nat
We talk for a while, then Kage decides it’s time to feed me.
He tugs on his jeans and disappears into the kitchen, ordering me to stay in bed. I lie naked, staring at the ceiling with a goofy smile on my face, listening to him rummage around in my fridge and cupboards. I hear the clatter of pots and pans on the stovetop, then soon after, the mouthwatering scent of bacon frying fills the air.
A while later, he returns holding a plate. Barefoot, bare chested, and breathtakingly handsome.
“Breakfast for dinner,” he announces, standing at the edge of the bed. “Sit up.”
I don’t obey him. Instead, I say, “Bossy.”
He arches a brow. “Sit up, or I’ll turn your ass red.”
My smile grows wider. I gaze up at him, grinning like a maniac. “Doubling down. I like it. But don’t forget, I haven’t given you permission for that.”
“Yet.” He gestures with the plate. “Now sit up like a good girl so I can feed you.”
“You seem unnecessarily concerned with my caloric intake. What’s up with that?”
It’s his turn to smile. It comes on slow and heated. He says in a husky voice, “You’re gonna need your energy. The night’s still young.”
He makes a good point.
I sit up, then scooch backward until I’m propped up against the head of the bed, my pillow scrunched behind my back. I drag the sheet up to cover my naked breasts.
Kage sits on the edge of the mattress and drags the sheet back down so my breasts are exposed again. He sets the plate on his lap. Then he picks up a piece of crispy bacon.
“Open,” he commands, holding the bacon near my lips.
Though I feel slightly ridiculous being fed like an infant, I oblige. I quickly forget about feeling silly, however, because it’s delicious. The bacon tastes so good, I moan a little as I chew.
The man can cook. Go figure.
He watches me with hawklike focus until I swallow. Then he makes a satisfied noise and picks up the fork resting on the side of the plate. He shovels up a pile of scrambled eggs.
“Whoa. How big do you think my mouth is? That bite’s enough for like four people.”
An indulgent smile curves his lips. “Every time you give me sass, you earn another spanking.”
We stare at each other. Neither of us blinks. But he’s better at this game, and I’m starving, so he wins the challenge.
I obediently open my mouth and let him slide the fork in.