Or maybe I’m being too hard on myself?
What was wrong with letting someone else’s feelings about my situation soothe the nerves that have been on edge since that night four weeks ago in New York?
For one night only…
My heart lurches at the thought that the clock is counting down rapidly on this…whatever this was. A date?
Hardly.
I’m supposed to be thanking him, not the other way around.
He jerks his head at the food. “Have some more.”
My eyes drop to the container and I reluctantly shake my head. “I shouldn’t.”
He looks annoyed again. “Why the fuck not?”
I look up guiltily. “I’m supposed to be thanking you for helping me out. Instead you paid for everything—”
“Fuck that. I wanted your company. I asked you out, therefore paying is my responsibility. And my privilege. Besides…” His eyes drop to my mouth and I involuntarily lick it in response to the tingling his stare evokes. “I like feeding you,” he finishes gruffly.
My heart leaps in my chest. “You do?” I whisper.
He rearranges his large, surprisingly agile body and I catch a hint of his aftershave. God, he smells incredible.
“Call it a caveman thing, but yeah. Making sure you’re cared for means something to me.”
Heat flares so high and so hot, I feel like I’m burning inside out.
He leans closer. “You know what else cavemen are known for, angel?”
I shake my head and the very sensation of my hair drifting over my bare shoulders is so arousing, I feel my panties getting wet.
Wetter.
He plucks the fork from hand and twines it around linguine loaded with fat, juicy shrimp.
Then he raises it to my lips in silent command.
I take it and his eyes stay on my mouth as he watches me chew. And oh, God, since when was chewing food so damn arousing?
“That kind of Neanderthal instinct usually follows a prescribed pattern.”
“W-what’s that?”
He swipes a thumb at the corner of my mouth and transfers the juice to his own mouth. “Feeding. Fucking.Breeding.” His voice is gruff to almost incoherence.
The light from the lamp highlights his burning eyes and the sensual curve of his lips.
My gaze travels over his gorgeous face, down his throat to the wide shoulders. Then lower still past his belt.
To the thick rod outlined in his jeans.
I can’t help myself. The strange hunger ripping through me erupts in a moan.
He drops the fork and one hand darts out to capture my nape.
His hand is warm…hot even, and he brands me with his touch while holding me immobile as he growls, “Do you like the sound of that, angel? The thought of some lucky guy stuffing you full and filling you up in every way that counts?”