Page 28 of In You
WhenIfinishputtingthe food on the table, I grab the plates and water glasses, then set Tamryn's utensils close to her left hand so she can easily grab them. I dump a generous spoonful of potatoes on her plate, and then put a chop on there.
I clear my throat and then flick her a little look. "Hang on, sweetheart," I say just as she dips her spoon in the potatoes. Looks like success to me. "I gotta cut your chop up for you."
Before she can say a word, I slide her plate to me and cut it quickly, removing the bone and then taking it to the back door where I whistle for Ringo then toss it to him. When I get back to the table, she's spooned a bit more gravy on her plate and then tops the entire meal off with pepper. Tink sneezes, bringing a smile to both of our faces.
Something about my sister's poodle settles her, and I'm so thankful. I have a feeling that if Tink weren't here that things would be a lot more strained.
I'm a little awe struck because this is my first time seeing her smile. And though it's a tiny, self-conscious one, it's so pretty it makes my heart beat like crazy. In an effort to distract myself, I take the bone from my chop and then put it to the side before looking expectantly at Tamryn.
"May I grab Tink from you so I can give her her bone with her dinner?" I ask, purposefully softening my voice so I don't startle her. "You need your arm free if you want to eat. Unless…" I tilt my head at her. "Unless you're okay with me feeding you. I can do that if it'd help."
I obviously shock her. Her dark eyes go a bit wide, and she flushes the most beautiful shade of rose as she rolls her lips. "No…I…Uhm…" she trails off, looking uncomfortable. Maybe even slightly bashful.
My hand relaxes on the table as my eyes roam her face. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Can I feed her?"
I give her a little grin, wipe my fingers on my napkin and stand up. "You sure can. Here, let me show you where her food and things are. Come look."
Keeping what I consider to be a safe distance, I wait until she stands up and then motion with my hand to the other side of the kitchen where I have their dog bowls set up in a cabinet.
"Oh, I've never seen anything like this before," Tamryn says breathlessly. She sets Tink down gently and runs her fingers over the intricate humming birds hand painted into the wood. "It must have taken hours to paint. I love hummingbirds so much."
At the sight of her beautiful fingers with oval nails, I clear my throat and then fold my arms.
"Thank you. I made this cabinet myself, and my sister painted it. She was quite the artist."
"You made this?" she asks hesitantly.
"Yes."
"It's…good. You did a good job."
She flicks a slow look up at me, and I try to not let myself be too excited when I see that she's let me just a bit closer than I've normally been, but for some reason, my close proximity doesn't bother her at the moment. I take a deep breath and reach forward, opening the double doors of the cabinet.
"The bottom shelf is for Ringo's food, and the middle shelf is for Tink's food." I point. "See? She gets this much." I hold up the little scoop. "And I normally give them both a can of soft food, too. Just at night though, not in the morning."
I turn my head to look at her, but her eyes are transfixed on the three small rows of wine in the top of the cabinet.
"Do you want a small glass?"
"No, I don't drink," she says quietly.
"Good to know," I say, winking at her. "You can give Tink her food now if you'd like."
"Okay, thank you." She takes Tink's scoop carefully from me so our fingers don't brush.
Bending, she puts a small amount in her bowl, followed by the can of soft food I open. By the time she's done, I'm sitting back down at the table ready to dig into my first real dinner in a couple days. When she comes back over I push her chair back for her with a foot, and ignore the cabinet doors lingering open behind her.
"After you," I say, gesturing to her plate.
She rolls her lips, tucks her curly hair behind her ear, and then picks up a fork. Stabbing it into the cut up pork chop. I watch her lips, riveted as she puts a small bite into her mouth and chews. "It's good," she says quietly, her brown eyes big and wide, a bit glassy with nerves, and probably a bit of pain I'd imagine.
My cock strains against my zipper at her vulnerability, wanting nothing more than to take her in my arms and take away the pain and the abuse. As I watch her eat, I foolishly imagine we're seeing each other. I fantasize we're here purposefully. That I'd invited her here for dinner after meeting her out in the city, and that she's nervous because she knows we're about to have sex for the first time, not because she’s reeling from a horrifying situation.
I imagine what her lips taste like, what her skin feels like against my fingers.
How her taste will coat my tongue.
