That’s probably not what she said, but I can’t blame my cook.She has tried.
I press my lips together and exhale slowly through my nose.She is testing my limits.
“I understand,” I say evenly, though my jaw tics with restrained irritation.“I’ll take care of it.Please have everything ready.We’ll be there shortly.”Even if I have to carry her to the table myself.
I stride down the hallway like a man possessed, every step fueled by frustration and a raw, pulsing need I can’t seem to rid myself of.When I reach the bedroom door, I don’t bother to knock.I open it…and stop cold.
She’s standing there with her back to me, motionless, spine straight, head held high.Regal, defiant, like a fucking queen surveying her stolen kingdom.
And she’s wearing my shirt.
My shirt.
What the god-fucking-damn hell?
Sunlight spills in from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, turning the thin fabric sheer.The light is outlining every curve I’ve memorized, every inch I’ve ached for.The swell of her hips.The slope of her back.The bare hint of skin where the hem rides too high.
My pulse slams through me like a battering ram.I’m instantly, painfully hard.
“I am sorry that you have to run back and forth, Rosa, but you can tell his royal darkness to eff off and to get over it.I won’t be gracing him with my presence.”
My urge to spank her is so intense, my hands shake.“Why don’t you tell him yourself?”
She whirls around, surprise written all over her face.
Fuuuuuck.
The air punches out of my lungs.Her nipples are visible through the material and they are hard.My throat is suddenly dry.My gaze slides down her body to her beautiful legs and I grit my teeth.I want to pounce on her, rip that shirt off of her and throw her on the bed to feast on her pussy before I fuck her sass right out of her.
But when my gaze snaps back to her face, I find her glaring.Unapologetic.Daring me.
Food.She needs to eat, I remind myself.
I am hanging on by a thread and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to launch myself at her to claim her again.Because Lily, standing in my shirt and staring me down like she’s not the one trapped here, might just be the death of me.
I give her a smile but it feels more like a snarl.
“Very well,” I say, voice low and dangerous.“We can stay in here and spend some more time…getting to know each other, if you’re not hungry.”
I take a step toward her, slow and threatening, and the flicker of panic in her eyes nearly makes me laugh.She tries to mask it with a scowl, but I see right through her.
“Wh-what?”she blurts, backing up a little.“No.Wait, I’ve changed my mind.I am hungry.”
The desperation in her voice is fucking adorable.Victory tastes like her lips—sweet, sharp and addictive.She realizes she’s lost this round and makes a dramatic show of stomping past me, chin held high like she’s not retreating.I let her have the illusion of control.It makes the game so much more fun.
I hold back a chuckle and follow her, trying not to ogle her ass.In my shirt.
But damn, I am no saint.
In the living room, she pauses, her gaze sweeping across the space, eyes sharp and curious, cataloguing every detail like she’s searching for a weakness, an exit, a way out.I let her look.Let her feel the cage, even if it’s gilded.
I wordlessly take the lead and head toward the dining room.
Rosa has outdone herself.The table is overflowing with enough food to feed ten people.Pancakes dusted with powdered sugar, freshly sliced fruit, eggs in every style, cured meats, cheeses, warm bread still fragrant from the oven and various yogurts.
Lily steps in behind me, and I catch the moment her breath hitches.Her eyes widen, a mere flicker, before she reins it in.I move to a chair and pull it out for her silently.For a second I think she’ll ignore it, push past me out of spite, but she sits, slow and careful like she’s playing chess and doesn’t want to tip her queen too early.
Good girl.
