Page 81 of Opening Strain

She carries her plate over to the dinette and sits on the cushioned banquette. I join her, sliding in next to her rather than doing the more expected thing and sitting across. My body crowds hers into the cozy nook.

She picks up her fork.

I do the same.

She cuts a piece of chicken.

I mirror her action.

She brings it to her lips and bites.

My cock shifts. When she finishes chewing, I bring my forkful of chicken to her mouth.

Grey eyes blink.

She opens her lips.

I deposit the food into her mouth.

After her lips close, I pull the clean utensil toward me.

A “pop” is the only noise she makes. I adjust my erection, which is begging for the same kind of attention.

“Good?”

“Very,” she replies.

I mimic her next few actions, feeding her my dinner despite wanting to taste my meal. I simply want to taste her more.

Her knife and fork clatter to her plate. “Bennett, what are you doing?”

Damned if I know. “Taking care of you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can do it.”

With any other woman, I wouldn’t bother. With Jenna, feeding her amps an unknown protective streak in me. “Maybe I want to.” I lean in, offering her another piece of chicken, to which she scrunches her eyebrows and shakes her head. Hint taken. I take my first bite of the meal and my mouth explodes with delicious flavors.

My head leans back and I emit a groan. “This is fucking good.”

Next to me, Jenna giggles. “Bet you’re upset by how much of yours you gave to me.”

“No.” I sit upright, donning a smirk. “But I do want to eat it now.”

I shovel forkfuls into my mouth, enjoying the vibrant Italian meal, punctuated by her floral-vanilla scent. After a moment, she picks up her utensils and continues eating. We don’t speak another word until both plates are clean.

“So good.” I extend my arm on the top of the banquette behind her. “I don’t only mean the food, although it was pretty fucking excellent.”

“Darren always loved Italian too.”

This is the opening I need. “Are you really okay about what’s going on between us, considering he was my bandmate?” I replay my word salad. I’m usually much more articulate—hell, I write lyrics for a living.

She licks her lips. “Darren still means a lot to me, even though he’s been gone for a couple of years. He opened up my life to experiences I never would have had. He made me laugh.” A sad smile emerges. “I’m forever grateful he was in my life.”

Makes two of us. Guess he sort of saved us both.

“I like you, Bennett. This version of you anyway.”

My brows pull together. “What do you mean? What version do you see?”

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