Page 57 of His Pet

“That’s a bit dramatic. I’m not going to die.”

“You’d run out of food.”

“I’m an excellent hunter.”

She opens her mouth to counter, but then closes it. I take the pills and pop them in my mouth before washing them down with water.

“Did youwantme to leave?” Her voice is soft, and when I look at her she doesn’t meet my eyes. She bites down on her bottom lip and fidgets with her hands in her lap.

“No.”

She lets go of her lip and releases a breath. Her hands still in her lap. “Well then,” she says, her tone lighthearted. It’s false, though. She’s trying as hard as I am not to show whatever she’s feeling. “Stop complaining.”

“Not complaining. I just find it strange how unbelievably terrible you are with your escape attempts. Last week you tried to hit me over the head with a frying pan. Today you push me into a river and don’t have enough sense to follow through.”

She rolls her eyes, but her lips pull into a grin. “I did not push you and you know it. I wasn’t even standing near you. Face it. You’re a klutz.”

I return her smile and glance down at the plate. I wouldn’t eat hotdogs made with meat, let alone fake meat. I pick one up and hum. “This looksdivine.” Sarcasm drips from each word.

“Oh, it is. Trust me.”

I take a bite, ready to mask my reaction to it. I chew and swallow while Amelia watches me earnestly. It isn’t terrible. It sure as shit isn’t steak, but it’s all right.

“Not bad,” I say.

“What a rave review.”

I chuckle and take another bite. I chew and swallow and widen my eyes to fake enthusiasm. “Holy shit, this is the greatest thing I’ve ever tasted. I can’t wait to try fake steak.”

She laughs and swings her legs onto the bed. She shifts so that we’re side by side with her back against the headboard. “You are such an asshole.”

“You are such a foul-mouthed brat.”

She snickers and turns her head toward me. “Still find it unattractive?”

She’s teasing me, and if I wasn’t practically bed bound, she’d be playing with fire. My cock stirs, and my eyes dip to her lips. Her smirk falls and tension forms a cloud around us, sucking out the oxygen and making the room shrink.

“I couldn’t find a single unattractive thing about you if I looked underneath a microscope.”

She looks away and tucks a curly lock behind her ear. She must have showered because it doesn’t have the frizz it did earlier. When I look closely at her face, I notice traces of makeup. Shiny lips. Longer and fuller eyelashes. Freckles missing from her nose.

She’s gorgeous now, but no more so than when she’s caked in sweat and dirt. I almost tell her this, but I decide to keep quiet. I’ve already said enough to make her uncomfortable.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“When you say those things, and,” she takes a breath like this is hard for her, “and when you kiss me. Do you mean it? Or are you messing with me?”

I hesitate to respond but only because I’m trying to read her. I’m picking up things that seem like they belong more in my imagination than in reality.

“I don’t care either way,” she says after only a few moments. “I just want to know.”

I study her face and process her obvious lie.

“I mean it,” I say. “I wouldn’t mess with you in that way.”

“Oh…” She looks down at her lap and picks at her nails. She’s nervous. Clearly.

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