She looked at me for a second, and then she picked up the burger. She looked at it like it was a puzzle she was going to solve before took a bite and closed her eyes briefly, letting out this low moan.
Fuck, I was already getting turned on again.
But I held back. Waited. watched her eat.
I wasn't subtle about it. She was halfway through the burger before she noticed, and when she did she stopped chewing and looked at me.
"What?" she said, around a mouthful.
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm watching."
"That's the same thing."
"It's not," I said.
She swallowed. Looked down at the burger. Something shifted in her expression—the beginning of a self-conscious thing, the kind I'd seen when she'd crossed her arms in the living room, wearing that perfect set of lingerie that hugged her curves just right.
"Eat," I said. “I just want to make sure you’re fed, darlin’. We’re burning an awful lot of calories.”
She blushed. “Right…”
“I mean it,” I said, tilting my chin toward the burger. “Eat, Millie.”
She ate.
I watched.
She got through the rest of the burger and half the fries before she looked up again, chin slightly lifted, something defiant and warm in her eyes.
"You're still doing it," she said.
"I know."
"It's weird."
"I don't care." I pushed the rest of the fries toward her. "Finish those."
"I'm not?—"
"Millie."
She ate the fries.
I watched her lick the salt off her thumb and felt it in my spine.
She caught my expression and went pink. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what."
"Like you're going to—" She stopped. Looked at the table. "Like that."
"I am going to like that," I said. "Soon as you finish eating."
Her breath hitched. I watched her throat move when she swallowed.
