Page 89 of After the Vows

He studies my face. “Really?”

I push up to give him a quick kiss. No tongue is allowed until I’ve had a chance to brush my teeth. “Really.”

“Thank fuck. I’m not in the mood to chase you.”

“You didn’t chase me before.”

“Before I was denying how much I want you in my life, wildcat.”

“And now you’re done denying it?”

He tweaks my nose. “I made it clear I was done denying myself when I told you this marriage is no longer fake.”

“Good thing I’m not running then.”

“Good. We’ve got better things to do.” His gaze catches on my mouth and I bite my bottom lip. Screw the whole brushing the teeth rule.

He punches his hips forward until I feel his hard cock, hot and heavy against my stomach. And my stomach rumbles. Loudly.

I cover my face in embarrassment. “Ignore it.”

“Nope. If my wildcat’s hungry, she’s getting food.”

I start to pout but my stomach rumbles again.

Lucas frowns. “You didn’t eat enough at our picnic last night.”

“It’s hard to concentrate on food when the man who kisses you each night before denying you sex is sitting before you with his chest on full display.”

He chuckles as he bounds out of bed. He shackles my wrist to help me out, and I wince. He frowns as he studies the red marks on my skin.

“Shit. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Pretty sure it was me hurting myself when I strained against the cuffs because you were driving me mad.”

“Still. We won’t use cuffs again.”

I pout. “You won’t tie me up again?”

He smirks. “I didn’t say there wouldn’t be any tying up in the future. In fact, I can’t wait to tie your hands and your legs up.”

“My hands and legs?” An image of me spreadeagle on the bed flashes in my mind and I moan.

His cock twitches. “You’re tempting me, but these marks need to heal before I tie you up again.”

I lick my lips. “I know some things we can do that won’t hurt my wrists.” I nod toward his cock.

He groans. “The first time you take me in your mouth won’t be while your stomach is rumbling.”

I place a hand over my stomach, which is indeed rumbling. “I guess you better feed me.”

He helps me out of bed and urges me toward the bathroom. “Get ready while I make breakfast. Do you want pancakes or sausage and eggs?”

“Pancakes. The answer is always pancakes.”

He chuckles. “I should have known my little sugar addict wants pancakes.”

“I’m not addicted to sugar. I can stop eating it whenever I want to. But I don’t want to.” I spent the first eighteen years of my life being denied sweets and chocolate. I am never living without it again.

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