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“Eat,” he demands.
I smirk then allow my gaze to fall to the dishes laid out between us, not sure where to start first. Picking up my fork, I decide to try the octopus too. Spearing the meat, I lift it to my mouth instantly tasting the garlic followed by this tangy hit of lemon. It’s delicious and I can’t help but hum in appreciation as I chew.
“You like that?” Beast asks, shifting forward in his seat and resting his elbows on the table as he watches me, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth and back again. The way he asks the question seems filled with so much more than a general interest in whether I like what I’m eating.
“So much,” I reply, needing more. I go to spear another piece of octopus, but instead he pinches a large green olive stuffed with capers between his forefinger and thumb and holds it to my lips.
“Try this.”
“I can feed myself, you know,” I say, locking eyes with him. His returning look is one that makes my skin heat and sends tingles of awareness scattering down my spine.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies softly, the candlelight flickering in his eyes as he regards me. “I just thought maybe your knuckles might still be sore.”
“They’re not.”
“Still…”
The tension between us grows as he swipes the olive against my bottom lip. Without thinking too much about it, I allow the tip of my tongue to taste what he’s offering before pulling back slightly and saying, “I think this goes way beyond your duty as babysitter.”
He smiles with something more than friendly banter glistening in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Don’t babysitters usually have to feed the kids they look after?”
And there he goes again, pushing my buttons.
“I’m not a kid—!”
But my sentence is cut short when he places the olive in my mouth and I find myself too distracted by the taste of the olive exploding on my tongue to hold onto my anger.
“Chew,” he instructs with a smirk.
I chew, and his eyes don’t leave my lips the whole time that I do.
“More?”
“You want to continue to feed me?” I ask.
“Only if you want me to.”
“If this isn’t overstepping, I don’t know what is,” I say, spearing a prawn soaked in oil.
His smile falters, as if he suddenly realises what he’s doing and reality sinks back in. I see him hesitate, his hand lowering and an apology hovering on his lips.
“This is just a bit of fun, right? It doesn’t mean anything?” I ask, lifting the prawn to his lips. “What’s the matter, Beast, afraid you might like it?”
“Nah, but I am worriedyoumight like it a little too much,” he retorts in an even tone that belies the flicker of apprehension in his gaze.
“We’ve established that you’re a tease and that I’m game. Why don’t we just bench the complexities of our relationship and just go with the flow?” I suggest as calmly as possible.
He narrows his eyes at me, studying my face as though he's waiting for me to crack and show how I'm truly feeling beneath the calm facade.
I don't.
There’s something to be said about playing it cool, and whilst on the surface I might appear to be at home in my skin, confident in my actions, I’m really a fireball of lust and want.
My knickers are soaked.Drenched, in fact.
As soon as I get home I'm going to relieve the tension that's been building between us all bloody afternoon. For now, squeezing my thighs together will have to do.
“I’m not a tease,” he says and this time it’s my turn to laugh.
