I sit up and look around in confusion, scrubbing at my eyes.
I tug on a long sweater and slippers and go in search of him.
As soon as I start heading down the main staircase, I smell something amazing.
I still don’t know my way around the castle, but I follow my nose.
Gods, what is that? It smells so freaking good and just now do I realize how freaking hungry I am. It’s only today that I’ve really gotten my appetite all the way back after being sick and I feel like I could eat a large pack animal.
The main floor of the castle is beautifully decorated. I only glimpsed it during my mad dash through the place when I ran out into the labyrinth. But now as I go, I take in the antique furniture, some of which looks almost a hundred years old.
I can’t imagine the Beast hunting antique stores to find all this stuff or hiring an interior designer to fill the castle.
But right, he said he inherited the castle from his ‘predecessor’, whatever that means. That word makes is sound like whoever it was wasn’t family, but why else would someone give away a castle in their will to just one man?
It’s one mystery after another with the Beast.
I press my hands to my face and pause by the windowed double-doors to the back garden. My whole life has been upended by a man I know literally nothing about. It’s insane. Completely and utterly nuts.
So why does it feel like at the same time I feel closer to him than anyone else in my life? That he knows me better than anyone ever has before?
The sun is setting, the castle casting long shadows over the huge labyrinth garden in the back, purple and electric pinks spilling across the sky.
I press my hand to the cold glass. You never get views like this in the city. And when was the last time I paused to watch the sunset? To notice anything beautiful?
“There you are.”
I startle, but only a little, as I turn and see the Beast standing at the other side of the expansive sitting room.
“I was just coming to get you. Dinner’s ready.”
His eyes move from me to my hand on the glass of the double doors. The same ones I fled through. Does he wonder if I was thinking about running again?
I step back. “I wasn’t going to—”
“I know. Come. The food will get cold.”
Just hearing his calm, confident voice sends a thrilled little shiver down my spine. Gods, he’s electrifying.
I didn’t know that just being with another person could make me feel like this—like I was a dormant robot out of battery and then he came along and plugged me in. But even as the thought hits me, I bite my lip. That’s not quite true. I felt like this one time before, but it was a long, long time ago and I gave up on ever having it again. Or anyone ever wanting me back in the same way.
I glance up at the Beast as he leads me towards what I assume is the kitchen or dining room. Does he feel the same way as me? Why is he doing all this? Why does he have the Battleman’s research downstairs? Is he— Does he actually feel something for me or is this still all about my dad and Adam?
It all feels so real.
But I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and almost lose my appetite thinking that this all might just still be about revenge. That I’m just a pawn to him, naïve and foolishly giving my heart when he doesn’t—
“You’re quiet. That usually means you’re coming up with a thousand disaster scenarios to worry about.”
I freeze and stare at him. How does he know that about me?
He chuckles. “Stop worrying for once and let’s enjoy dinner. You must be hungry after all our exertions earlier.” He lifts his good eyebrow and smirks at me, then pushes through a door and leads me into the kitchen.
Gods it sends butterflies flittering through my stomach every time he’s flirty like that. And look, the kitchen is on the first floor after all.
I glance briefly around at all the modern appliances that have been installed, though the overall feel of the décor is still castle-chic. It’s really a beautiful blend of modern and antique, burnished stainless steel appliances amid stonework.
There’s a small wooden table with plush chairs off to the side of the kitchen, a cozy little space to eat by a large bay window.
The Beast puts his large, warm hand to the small of my back and leads me towards the table, already set with plates heaping with food.
“Shrimp broccoli stir-fry.”
“It looks and smells amazing.” And it does. Being in his presence, his hand on my back, suddenly my appetite has come back full force. When I’m with him, all my doubts and worries disappear. Foolish maybe. Definitely.
But there’s just something about him. I can’t explain it. It’s the farthest thing from logical, when usually logic is what I pride myself on.
The pull to him is undeniable, though.
And when he pulls my chair around so that we’re sitting thigh to thigh, I love it. Every touch thrills me. Settles me.
I want to sink into him and never look back. Nobody warned me it could be like this. I’m helpless to his magnetism.
Maybe he sees it in my eyes because he reaches out and runs his hand up my back to my neck. He settles his hand there and massages slightly at the same time he takes a forkful of shrimp, broccoli and rice and lifts it up to my mouth.
My bottom lip trembles as I open to him. It feels luxuriant and naughty to let him feed me. It was one thing while I was sick in bed.
But here, both of us sitting at the table, it’s— It’s—
“Lick the fork clean,” he murmurs, the pressure on my neck intensifying just the slightest bit, sending a shiver through my entire body. Shit, how is him feeding me so hot?
I nod and run my tongue along the tines of the fork before finally, sensuously releasing the fork and chewing my bite.
His dark eyes flare and then he takes a bite of his food from the same fork. A simple act but one that feels ridiculously intimate.
We repeat this little dance for several more bites until I’m all but squirming in my chair.
Okay, screw dinner. I want him to shove the plates to the floor and for him to put that sinful mouth on me.
Even the memory of earlier has me wet.
Which reminds me…
“I’m not wearing anything under this sweater,” I suddenly blurt. Then I lick my lips and lean in towards him. “And I’m probably making a wet spot on your nice chair.”
If I thought his nostrils flared earlier, it’s nothing to the way his pupils darken and his nose huffs out like a bull.
“I don’t know whether to take you across my lap or praise you for being a very good girl.”
His hand stays on my neck while the other, which he’d been feeding us with, drops the fork and immediately reaches beneath the hem of my sweater. And goes straight to my sex, where he dips his finger right in.
He hums in satisfaction when he finds me as wet as I promised and his finger slips in with ease. He pushes in up to the first knuckle. Then the second.
I squirm in my seat and drop my legs open to give him easier access. I don’t even really mean to do it, it’s becoming a reflex. He touches and I respond. I never imagined being mastered could feel so— so—
“Ohhhh,” I moan and he smiles and his finger pulls out of me with a slick, slippery noise.
“Enjoy your garnish, my sweet,” he says, then he lifts the finger he just had inside me, glistening with my own wetness and paints my lips before slowly, oh so slowly, shoving his huge, manly finger in my mouth.