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“The person in my dreams always leaves me too. He promises to take me away. To save me, but he leaves too. It’s crazy to be upset with a figment of my imagination leaving every morning when I wake up… he feels real.”
I hold her as tightly as I can without causing her pain. “I’m not going anywhere, Rose. I promise you.”
There is a soft knock on the door, then Hannah walks in with a tray laden with food.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROSE
I blush when Hannah walks into the room. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me. Within the first hour of knowing me, she’s seen me stripped down by her boss in front of everyone, and now I’m naked save for a towel cuddled in Matthew’s lap. I must seem pathetic to her.
She sets the tray on the small side table beside where we’re sitting. “I brought a little of everything,” Hannah says with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be up to eating considering…” she trails off, a haunted look taking over her delicate features. She shakes her head as if she’s knocking free of a bad memory then gives me a friendly smile. “If you need anything, just pick up the phone over there and dial one.”
I return her smile with a shy one of my own. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Rose. It’s my pleasure to serve you.” Something about the way she says that makes my skin prickle.
“Thank you, Hannah. I think we’ll be fine for the evening. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?”
Hannah gives Matthew a bright smile. “Thanks, Matthew.” She turns her attention to me once again. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call,” she reminds me.
I get the distinct impression she’s not talking about bringing me food or whatever else a housekeeper does. “I will. Thank you for the food. Everything looks delicious.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your evening. I better go check on Slade.” There is a devious sparkle in her eye, and I can’t help but wonder about her relationship with Slade.
As soon as she’s gone, Matthew pulls a plate of pasta from the tray. I’m still perched on his lap. I should probably move to the other chair, but I really don’t want to. I like being close to Matthew. I feel safest when he’s within arm’s reach. Don’t get much closer than sitting in his lap. I reach for the plate, and he pulls it back, giving me a hard look. He twirls the fork in the noodles, swiping them through a thick cream sauce, then holds the fork up to his lips, carefully blowing on the bite of food before bringing it to my own lips.
I open my mouth, accepting the bite. I moan as the food hits my taste buds. The sauce is rich and flavorful, obviously homecooked and not from a jar like I’m used to. I savor the bite and practically salivate when Matthew offers me a second bite, this one with a piece of chicken smothered in the same delicious sauce.
“You don’t have to feed me,” I say to Matthew after the second bite.
He just gives me a look that tells me not to argue, so I don’t. If I’m honest with myself, I like him feeding me. He’s taking care of me in such a small, yet profound way. There’s something intimate about being fed that has nothing to do with my being naked on his lap.
Matthew silently feeds me bite after bite until I feel like I’m going to burst. He holds out another bite, and I shake my head. “I’m stuffed.”
He looks from me to the half-empty plate and doesn’t seem satisfied. Damn Dr. Martinez. She ran a battery of tests on me while I was sedated and found that I’m deficient in several essential nutrients and that I’m borderline malnourished. Ever since, Matthew has been shoving food at me every chance he gets, never satisfied with how much I eat.
“You should eat more.”
“I really can’t. I’m full.”
Even though he doesn’t look happy about it, he sets the plate back down on the tray. I groan when he picks up another plate because this one has a slice of cheesecake covered in chocolate and caramel sauce. Matthew gets a forkful, and I swear I can already taste the tartness of the cheesecake and the chocolatey caramelly goodness. Except, he doesn’t offer the bite to me. Instead, he eats it and gives an exaggerated moan as if it’s the best thing in the world.
“This is delicious. Too bad, you’re full.” He takes another bite of the cheesecake.
I lick my lips, staring at the cheesecake longingly. “I could maybe eat another bite…”
Matthew points the next forkful at my lips. I don’t hesitate to take what he’s offering. It’s even better than it looks. The cheesecake itself is creamy and smooth with just the right amount of crisp crust. The chocolate sauce is just the right amount of bitter to counteract the almost overly sweet taste of the caramel. I moan as I savor the treat.
I can’t remember the last time I tasted a dessert so perfect. Stale cookies from the shelter don’t hold a candle to this cheesecake. The last thing I can remember tasting this good was a birthday cake for… someone… years ago. Back before—I shove the thoughts away. I won’t think of my past. Not now while I’m enjoying my present so much.
Matthew holds up another forkful, and I eagerly eat. He feeds me until the only thing left on the plate is a few crumbs from the crust and smears of chocolate and caramel. I have to admit, if I were alone, I’d be licking the plate clean, it was that good.
“That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life,” I say honestly.
“Glad you enjoyed it, love,” Matthew says, sounding tense.
I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but instead of words, I yawn. Now that my stomach is full, I’m suddenly exhausted.
