Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
His hand flexed at my hip as if he were expecting me to run right there and then.
“Not gonna let you do that, Chef,” he added quietly. “Unless it’s what you truly want in here.” He tapped my chest. “Not here.” He tapped my temple. “I’ll let you fight it only so I can fight back with you. But I won’t let you leave out of fear. Sayin’ that plainly because I’m not doing bullshit with you. So you wanna run, or you want to sink into this?” His finger slipped into me.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head. But he didn’t move his finger, didn’t give me friction for release.
No, he just left it there inside of me, waiting.
He let all of those words hang, let them settle, resting on my chest like a weight.
And I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. Kane was right. A primal part of me wanted to fight against this. Wanted to run as far and as fast as I could. Because I knew that this was real, that this was something. We were something. Something that might burn fast and hot, might peter out and leave us both unscathed and satisfied. Or it could break me irreparably.
My body tensed at the mere thought of that. I had worked far too hard to craft a life for myself that was secure. I’d ensured that I could not be ruined, could not be hurt by anyone, especially a man.
Every relationship I’d had prior to this could only be loosely defined as a relationship. The stakes had been low. There were no feelings involved. No danger.
Kane was telling me that I couldn’t control this, that he wouldn’t let me run. He’d chase me. And he wasn’t saying it in some toxic male kind of way. He was stating it as fact. As sure as the sky was blue, Kane was going to chase me if I ran from this out of fear.
As sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, Kane knew that I was his.
Yes, fear—a foreign and poisonous invader in my veins—urged me to run. To shut down and to convince this man that all of his feelings were one-sided and that I would not be submitting to him.
I opened my mouth to say that. To spout lies that would keep me safer than the truth ever could.
“I want this,” I said instead, moving my body against his finger. My eyes found azure fire. “I want us.”
His arm tightened even further. Tight enough to bruise. His gaze turned intense, claiming.
“Good,” he growled. “Now let me make sure you feel me in you all day before you run around the city.”
Seven
Kane and I had spent every night together since we met. Since the talk we’d had in my apartment, I decided to do the unthinkable… Lean into the chaos.
He did what he had done since the first night at my restaurant, waited for me to close up, eating the plate of food I regularly prepared for him before closing the kitchen.
I liked that he fed me when we got to my place, but I also loved the intimacy of feeding him. It wasn’t something off the menu; it was whatever I was feeling at the time.Stuffed zucchini flowers, seared venison and mushrooms, cottage pie, freshly made pasta and pesto. More simple and provincial things than what I served in my restaurant. Heartier fare that I’d enjoyed across the world.
Every time he ate, he made sure to communicate just how much he enjoyed my food. And even though I had had thousands of people say similar things, it made my night. Well, various things made my nights these days, all of them connected to Kane.
My staff were used to him by then, no one asking questions. Not even Ferris. I’d told Michelle the most, that we were together, nothing else. That pleased her. But she didn’t press. She never did. She’d brought out a glass of whisky for Kane at the end of service, one finger. He thanked her, joked with her and my staff who were friendly but kept their distance.
Kane asked me why they didn’t ask questions, why no one took photos. I momentarily paused at the question, wondering why on earth they would take a photo of us. Then I remembered Kane was famous.
It was easy for me to forget since I hadn’t known he was famous when I met him. I didn’t go on social media—didn’t have social media—and didn’t read the kind of magazines he graced the covers of.
And whenever we were together, it was late at night, going straight to my apartment—apparently, he liked my tiny place better than the behemoth brownstone. Then he’d cook for me, something simple but delicious. Steak and salad. Spicy shrimp. Grilled cheese. And we’d have sex. A lot of it. At some point, I’d fall into unconsciousness, and then he’d wake me, either in the middle of the night or in the morning or both to fuck me again. Then, while I was getting ready, he’d get us coffee and pastries from the café on the corner. Then we’d part.