Page 102 of Consume Me

“He’s protective of me.”

“As he should be. I’m just angry he has a point.”

She reaches me and stands on her tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“The entire world could disapprove, but I’d still choose you.”

“You terrify me,” I confess, and a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Good, you’re not a coward after all.”

I arch a brow. “Sure?”

“I was desperate for you to stay, but I’ve learned that you can’t make someone stay. They have to want to stay.”

I want to stay, but a voice in my head reminds me that even then, what will she think of me once she finds out the truth?

Sighing, my mood threatens to plummet.

“What is it, Blake? What has you in such a tight grip? Whatever it is, it’s going to be fine for me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

She cups my cheek, her thumbs caressing along my cheekbones. “I promise. Let me show you that I can keep my word.”

“I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

“One day, you’ll have to tell me.”

And on that day, I will lose you.I don’t say that. Instead, I dip my chin in agreement and follow her into the kitchen.

“Why is it stocked?” she asks.

“I come here once a week.”

“Let’s make homemade pizza.”

As she prepares the dough and tomato sauce, I cut the salami. It feels like domestic bliss, something I would see myself doing with her. Only withher.

While the pizza bakes in the oven, I stream some music through my phone. Following my instinct, I offer her my hand. She takes it, and our naked bodies press together as we sway to the rhythm of the slow song.

“I’m pretty sure this is a dream.”

I place a kiss on the top of her head. “Then let’s keep dreaming.”

By the time the pizza is done, her being glued to my body only inflames my raging hard-on. I sneak my hands around her thighs and pull her up, placing her on the table.

“Food can wait. I want to eat your sweet cunt first.”

“Blake…” she tries to sound annoyed, but her wet pussy disagrees.

I don’t stop until we both come.

“Is that stamina normal?” she asks, unable to move from the table.

I stiffen. My father made me a machine—high-performing in every way, both mentally and physically.

I don’t want to keep lying to her. Fuck.

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