Page 343 of The Christmas Wife

The sound of her stomach growling fills the room. She flushes. "Fine, have it your way." She stomps over, throws herself onto the couch, then stares at the food.

"It’s not poisoned." I reach for my fork, scoop up some of the black truffle risotto from her plate, bring it to my mouth and wipe the tines clean. I glance up to find her gaze fixed on my lips. I run my tongue across the seam of them, and she swallows. I chew, swallow, then scoop up more of her risotto and offer it to her. "Open."

She raises her gaze to mine, then slowly parts her lips.

"Good girl," I murmur.

The pulse at the base of her throat kicks up.Oh, she likes that.I slide the fork over her tongue. She closes her mouth around it, and when I pull it back, the tines are clean. She chews, and her gaze widens.

"Good?"

She nods.

I scoop up more of the food and hold it to her mouth. Then watch as she closes her lips around the fork, as she flicks the tip of her pink tongue around the tines and picks off the food, as she chews and swallows. I place the fork down, then reach out with my fingers.

She flinches.

I pause. "You have a bit of food at the corner of your mouth."

"Oh?" She sweeps her tongue to the right-hand corner of her lips, and my cock, which already thickened from watching her eat, jumps in excitement.Interesting.This reaction of my body to her every move is fascinating. And unwelcome.

"Is it gone?" she asks in an anxious voice.

"May I?"

She hesitates, then nods. I close the distance to her face, scoop up the cream on the left corner of her lips, then bring it to my mouth and suck it off.

She draws in a sharp breath. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" I transfer the fork to my left hand, pick up my knife, and cut into the duck’s breast on my plate.

"You fed me with your fork, then picked up the smidgen from my lips?—"

"And swallowed it?" I shrug. "It was a reflex."

"Oh."

"Also, you’re not eating."

She watches me for a few seconds, then picks up her own fork and eats a few mouthfuls. "You ordered risotto for me and duck for yourself."

I nod.

Her features light up, “You knew I'm vegetarian?"

"You mentioned it in the employee forms you filled out."

"Oh." She deflates a little and continues to eat.

"Thanks," she murmurs. When she’s done, she places her hands in her lap. "That was delicious. Thank you, again."

"Don’t expect me to feed you lunch every day; this was a one off."

Her lips stiffen.

"I order you to make sure you have your breakfast every day from now on."

"You order me?” Her gaze widens, “Who are you to order me?"

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