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I enjoy watching her swallow.
See the food slide down her throat with as much ease as my dick.
I clear my throat and reposition myself in my seat. “Doesn’t mean you don’t feel something.”
She touches the tip of her fork a little too dangerously to my liking. Maybe I’ll let her eat with her hands next time. “I feel nothing but rage.”
“Lies,” I retort.
She’s stewing in hatred of her own desires, and it only makes me laugh.
She wants to deny herself? Fine. She can deal with the consequences.
But I won’t ever stop taunting her.
Even though I hate not having the place to myself anymore, I’ve also missed having someone to bounce off. To start a fight with. And she’s just the kind of girl who will do just that.
“Stay mad then. I don’t care,” I say. “But you’re here now. And I’m not ever gonna let you go.”
Jasmine
* * *
The way he says it, so full of conviction, makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Why? Why can’t you let me go?” I ask.
“You know why,” he says.
I swallow, but it feels as if the food is stuck in my throat.
Even if I know, it’s still hard to comprehend just how much he really wants me to pay for whatever crime he made up in his head.
He never acted like this when we were younger and still living with our parents. Before the accident.
I sigh and shovel up more veggies, trying to make sense of things while also making sure I take in as much food as I can before he snatches it all away again.
“I guess you do like my food after all,” he says. “Since you’re eating all of it.”
I stop and look at him. I feel like all of this—this food, the drinks, the way he’s talking to me, and letting me sit at his table—is just a show of power. He’s the one who holds all the cards. The one who could take away this food and warmth with the snap of a finger and then put me right back in that cold room again … forever.
“Thank you.” It’s out before I realize it.
He pauses and looks at me from underneath his lashes. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re grateful to have a filled belly.”
I have to swallow my pride here. Bite down on my tongue while I’m at it because it’s tough to keep the swear words from spitting out.
Cursing him under my breath will do for now.
He already knows I hate him. Making him my enemy will do me no good right now. I have to figure out a way to keep him on my side. Make him think I could change my mind. Make him trust me. Maybe he’ll ease up then.
And when he finally does, I’ll steal back my phone, take his key, and run like hell.
“So …” I take another bite. “Do you have anything else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Food,” I reply.
