Page 23 of Romancing the Reaper

Kieran pulls me closer, his face buried in the side of my neck and I can feel him smiling into my skin. “I’m glad to be your first.” He kisses the soft skin of my neck, sending goosebumps down my spine. “Because I plan to be your last.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ADA

The next morning, I wake up to a sore body and an empty bed.

I don’t know why I expected anything else from him. He doesn’t owe me anything. It was just sex, wasn’t it? It just… hadn’t felt like that. At least not to me.

I couldn’t label it as anything glamorous but I had thought that at least he would be here when I woke up. Instead, he laid out and folded the clothes that he had picked up for me yesterday. They are resting on the bathroom counter beside his own clothes. He’s even gotten me the girl version of the all-in-one shampoo. Something that if he had been here when I woke up, I would have delighted in teasing him about.

Instead, I shower and dress in silence.

I half expect to be exploring an empty apartment again but instead, Kieran’s apparently been busy in the kitchen.

There’s more of an assortment of breakfast foods laid out across the kitchen island than I’ve ever seen in one place before. And, that’s saying something as my brother loves nothing more than to go all out on a caterer for all holiday functions.

I’m a girl who has been wined and dined in all sorts of fancy establishments and this is still extravagant to me.

My eyes widen, and my stomach clenches into a knot. When was the last time that I actually ate anything? I hope that he doesn’t think that just because there is an abundance of options here, it’s going to make anything easier for me.

It’s a whole other kind of uncomfortable. It’s like he’s putting pressure on me and I don’t know how to handle it. It’s too much scrutiny.

I slide onto the barstool and make a point of not looking at him. I focus instead on the sheer amount of things laid out in front of me and the empty plate that is directly centered before me. I can’t bring myself to touch it. I have to eat, I know that I do.

Maybe some juice? No, that will only make my already empty stomach cramp more. Black coffee is usually my morning go to, or some herbal tea. Plain, just enough to wake me up. Blackcoffee only has five calories in a cup and tea has virtually nothing. It’s a safe choice that I know won’t send me into a downward spiral.

Kieran’s clearly gone through a lot of trouble for this. While I’m flattered, it’s just downright wasteful.

I can feel his eyes boring into the top of my head. When I don’t move, he finally gives up and comes to load up my plate for me.

He puts some eggs, a slice of toast and a selection of fruit before placing a fork down next to the plate. Simple enough. There’s definitely more meats and various pastries should I choose to have one of those. But I just can’t seem to make myself move more than to pick up the fork and push the contents of my plate around.

Even if I wanted to eat, which I do - I can’t do it while he’s staring at me. Good intentions or not.

I can tell he wants to order me to eat something, or to at least try it.

I manage a small bite of fruit and pour myself some coffee. I have to go slow or the stress of the situation alone is going to make everything come right back up again.

He’s not going to stop, is he? I can’t tell him to stop. I can’t tell him to let me eat alone or that if he would just stop staring at me and eat his own food it might be easier.

I take another sip of the coffee, and pull a piece of the toast off with my fingers and eat that, too. It hurts when it hits my stomach. Too empty with the coffee I’m sipping and I don’t dare to try to eat anything else.

The fact that I know I’m being watched makes me feel like I’m being judged.

It takes me instantly back to my early modeling days, when the girls would whisper and laugh every time I got a plate of food. They would make faces every bite I took until I just stopped eating.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he sits down on the stool beside me with his plate piled high. I try for another bite of eggs, but the taste doesn’t sit right on my tongue.

It has nothing to do with how it was cooked or the flavor itself, it's just… I can’t do it. I can’t have it in my mouth any longer. I turn and head for the bathroom, a hurry in my step. I can’t fling the door open quickly enough.

My knees hit the tile floor so hard that I’m sure there’s going to be a bruise there tomorrow. Every tiny scrap of food that is left in my body comes up quickly, and then I’m left painfully dry heaving my empty stomach until I’m gasping for breath.

When things finally start to slow, only then does the door open behind me. Kieran’s bulky frame leans against the side of the door frame as he watches me.

I don’t want him to hold my hair back this time. I don’t want him standing there and judging me and making everything so much worse. It’s not cute. I don’t wantanybodyto see me like this.

If I could breathe properly, I would just turn and scream at him to leave me alone. He must have some sick, fucked up fetish to keep staring at me like this.

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