I kept the sheet close to my body as I stretched for some of the food. He sat on the edge of the bed and surveyed me.
“Um . . .” I started. “Did you season it?”
“Season what? The macaroni?” he asked, one brow lifted.
I groaned and fell back into the pillows. “I’m starving, Rome. Bastian used to cook me gourmet meals, and now I’m being subjected to this?”
“That’s good food, woman. I cook just as good as Bastian. Try it.”
I scooped up one spoonful of macaroni and almost choked when it hit my mouth. I tucked the sheet farther under my arms to cover the fact that I hadn’t got dressed yet, which was through no fault of my own. Rome had left me with a ripped dress and nothing else. “So, I appreciate you making me macaroni and cheese, Rome, I really do. But this isn’t edible!”
“Are you kidding me?” He looked so offended I almost took back what I’d said.
Then I glanced down at the slop in the bowl. The cheese had curdled around crunchy noodles, and the butter hadn’t completely melted. I tried not to laugh at his poor attempt to cater to me while I was essentially his prisoner. “So far, I’ve got no clothes and the worst food on the planet. And I’m confined to a secret room. Should we do a comparison between you and Bastian now?”
“Compare me to all the men you want, baby.” He stood up and stalked toward the door. “I know how to make you scream in the dark of the night. There’s no comparison to that.”
My pussy clenched at his words. I immediately wanted to call him back to the bed, tell him to forget the food and forget my complaining.
He’d already slammed the door behind him, though. I heard the loud thwack of the deadbolt locking.
I sat there, no clothes on, completely turned on, with a plate of inedible food.
None of my needs had been met.
Fucker.
I rolled to the side to place the food back on the nightstand and wondered if Bastian and the boys had started the hunt for me. Did they already know Rome was keeping me here? And why was I the center of everyone’s attention?
I was just the bait.
I’d pulled enough intel on the government and the bratva for them to want me dead, though.
A few minutes later, Rome swung open the door and entered with large T-shirts and athletic drawstring shorts. He threw them on the bed. “You’re starving, and I’m starved for you. Get dressed before I take advantage of you without letting you get any nourishment.”
I glared at him. “I like being naked.”
“You like being a brat,” he threw back and turned to leave again. “Get dressed.”
“For what?” I countered but scrambled across the bed to pull a T-shirt on. I left the shorts untouched. “I’m not going anywhere. And where are you going? I’m bored as hell in here.”
He growled. “I’m getting you edible food.”
The door slammed shut again. I got out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I pulled my hair up into a bun and splashed some water on my face. I’d never look decent without makeup and hair creams. I rummaged through his drawers and found deodorant and a toothbrush. I used them both in the hopes I could remain somewhat presentable for the next two days.
I smirked at the fact that I wasn’t at all dolled up for him, wasn’t putting on a show for him, and still he was running back and forth for me.
Being a prisoner had its perks, I guess.
When I reentered the room, he’d placed our food on the carpet and was lying on his side across the floor, staring at me in the bathroom door. “Fuck me,” he groaned and wiped a hand over his face.
I sat down cross-legged across from him and looked in the brown paper bag. “What are you moaning about over there?”
He rolled onto his back and turned his head to smile at me. It stretched across his face, and the deep chocolate brown of his eyes sparkled. “All I want to eat is you, in my shirt, right now. Clothes were supposed to help.”
I glanced down and saw his cock was standing at attention underneath his sweats. I pulled his white tee between my legs, but it wasn’t really any use. I crawled on all fours around our food. His gaze was locked to me. I arched my back and made each movement languid. I felt myself get wetter and wetter. By the time I reached his side, I was ready for him.
We didn’t say one word to each other. He’d put his hands behind his head and stared up at me, like he was prepared to sit back and watch.