Page 42 of Innocent Intentions

Oh, he hates that.

Perfect.

Dotty saves me by walking in with our food.

“Here you go, dears. Eggplant parmesan with garlic bread.” She sets them down and heads out.

I mutter my thanks, relieved for the distraction. Matty, however, is not distracted.

Instead of taking his seat at the other end of the table, he slowly picks up his plate.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“What are you doing?” I ask as suspicion overwhelms me.

He ignores me.

Balancing his plate, utensils, and glass with ease, he walks straight to my side of the table. He sets his place directly next to mine. Then, finally, he looks at me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“I have trouble hearing across the room,” he says smoothly. “It’s better for me to be close to you.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re lying.”

He doesn’t even pretend to deny it. He just smiles wider with an evil gleam in his eyes. He settles in like he owns the place. Which, technically, he does.

I grip my fork. “You don’t seem like the kind of man to give up the head of the table.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” His voice drops to something slow, teasing. “My seating arrangement doesn’t change my position in this relationship.” He takes a bite, swallows. “In and out of the bedroom. I will always be in charge.”

I scoff. “We don’t have a relationship, and you certainly aren’t in charge of me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He sets his fork down, completely composed. “Your obedience will be rewarded. Your defiance will be punished.”

Heat floods my veins.

“Fuck you,” I snap, pushing back my chair, but his hand clamps down on my shoulder. I shiver. Betrayed by my own body. “This is why I knew sitting next to you was a bad idea.”

“Sit down and eat.” His grip stays firm. “It won’t be as good when it gets cold, and Dotty made this just for you.”

My stomach betrays me next, by letting out a loud growl.

His smirk deepens.

Damn it.

I grab my fork and stab a bite.

The moment the food hits my tongue, I melt. It’s perfect. Cheesy, saucy, crispy in all the right places. A soft, involuntary moan escapes me. I close my eyes, savoring it. I take another bite. Another moan.

Something shifts.

I open my eyes.

Matty freezes, fork suspended midair. His hungry gaze is locked on my mouth. Full of a barely leashed intensity. Then he groans. Low. Rough. Wrecked.

I replay the last few seconds. The moaning. The lip licking.

Oh. My. God.

---