AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Then I’ll drive you home.”
She nods again, not fighting me any longer. “Okay.”
I kiss her one last time on the mouth and then once on the nose before opening my car door. She unhooks her legs from either side of me and gets out, closing the door behind her.
“Sleep tight, pretty girl, and enjoy the time with your friends. I’ll be back for you before you know it.”
???
Chapter 27
Nera
Igo back the next day.
And the next.
And the one after that until I blink and three weeks have gone by. Three weeks of spending the evening with my friends and sneaking out once they’re asleep to go to Tristan’s.
Three weeks of him fucking me every day, every which way, until I’m begging to come. True to his word, he’s never sated. He never fucks me less than twice, almost like he can’t go more than an hour or two before he has to have me again.
Three weeks of him cooking me dinner every evening. When I come back the second night, he has at least ten bags full of groceries and he’s busying himself about the kitchen putting them away.
I watch him cook every meal with those attractive hands of his, mesmerized by the side of him that comes out. He morphs into a completely different person when he has a knife in hand, his true passion so visible it’s undeniable.
He’s a level of focused I’ve never seen him be in class and it warms the ice around my heart to see him bent over, brow creased in concentration as he plates dishes he made for me because he thought I’d like them.
It’s delicious meal after delicious meal, everything from sous vide pork tenderloin in homemade zhoug to crispy tuna tostadas with a yuzu honey sauce.
He watches me eat and at first, I think it’s because he suspects something. But then I realize, he’s just waiting to see my reaction.
I think he might even be nervous, his shoulders stiff and his breathing shallow, his hands playing with a tea towel as he watches me take the first bite. I find myself wanting to eat and letting myself enjoy it because I like the way his lips curve when I tell him this newest dish is my favorite.
I say it every time and I mean it every time.
He tells me that means he has to keep making better dishes every day, that he can’t slip. That I’m unknowingly giving him the training he needs.
Heat thunders through my heart in response.
He’s so talented and so dedicated when he’s doing what he loves. I recognize the same drive, the same blind fixation I have with fencing as he does with his craft and it makes me feel closer to him.
Dangerously close. Far closer than I ever wanted to be. It takes work to stop myself from leaning in further and to pull myself back instead. When I do remind him that we’re not dating, he kisses my mouth or my nose, appeases me with an “okay, baby”, and returns to whatever he was doing.
It’s three weeks of going home to my bed and secretly wishing I’d stayed over instead. Three weeks of convincing myself I’m doing the right thing not letting him get too close because he’ll just disappoint me like everybody else has.
He’s patient, never forcing me to stay or otherwise pushing me beyond simply insisting on driving me back to my apartment every night.
There’s another reason I don’t stay.
It’s torture hiding my secret from him. When the voice comes for me — louder and more self-castigating than ever before because it can feel that maybe I’m starting to reach for a chance to escape its clutches — I have nowhere to turn.
His place is too small, I can’t purge there without him finding out. The voice is furious that I don’t immediately obey. Its booming tenor rips through my mind, pulling my attention over to it until I can barely carry the conversation I’m having with him.
My skin crawls and I’m on edge until I get out of there and get home. There, I run to the bathroom, the voice screaming at me the whole way there.
Why’d you eat that?
Fat pig.
