Page 55 of Saddled in Secrets
When she chooses to sit next to the window, I almost smile again. I arranged it this way very specifically and she just rewarded my efforts. Bianca loves a spot with a view. The seat she picked offers an unobstructed shot of the daisy gardens I planted for her.
Instead of getting caught gawking, I get busy piling all of her favorite breakfast foods onto one plate. It’s complete chaos—just the way she loves it. The dish is almost overflowing when I set it down in front of her. Bianca breathes in the unmistakable aroma of bacon and savory satisfaction. I retrace my steps to fill a mug with hazelnut coffee, grabbing a glass of sparkling orange juice in the other hand.
She blinks at the full picture. “This might be the most delicious sight I’ve ever seen.”
I scoff. “No need to lie.”
It’s not a secret she was raised in luxury. She probably has a list of personal chefs on speed dial. I can’t even imagine the gourmet meals she’s had.
But Bianca huffs right back at me. “I can smell the care that went into every morsel. That makes all the difference.”
There’s a clench in my heart and I spin around before saying something sappy. After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I sit a few chairs away from her. It’s where I get my favorite view.
“Why are you so distant, Stalker?” Her stare targets me like heat-seeking missile.
“Wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed closer.”
When she smiles, her eyes twinkle. “Why wouldn’t you be? I’m surprised you aren’t parading around like a proud peacock.”
“Not my style.”
“Should be,” she argues. “You’re somewhat responsible for the multiple orgasms I gave myself.”
“Fuck,” I grunt through clenched teeth.
She preens after getting the desired reaction from me. “And if that’s not enough, you’re definitely responsible for this spread about to fill my belly.”
“You haven’t tried it yet.” My tone is slightly perturbed.
She glares at my absent plate. “Did you eat already?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“You’re just going to sit there?”
My heart beats wildly, desperate to connect with hers. “And watch you.”
“Mhmm, sounds familiar. If you’re trying to butter me up, this is the way to do it.” Which could stroke my ego to distraction, but then her stomach grumbles.
“Eat,” I command.
“Yes, sir.”
And just like that, my cock raises to half mast. The throb pulses stronger when she spears a piece of French Toast. I’m transfixed by the simple motion of her lifting the fork to her mouth. When her lips part, I have the irrational instinct to snatch the utensil from her grip and feed her myself.
“Ohhhhhhh.” Her lashes flutter and she slumps deeper into the chair. “Yummmm.”
I relax in my own seat. “You like it?”
She chews slowly as if savoring the bite. “Gosh, yes. Passes the inspection with flying colors.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
Her giggle tapers off into snort. “What would you do if I hated it?”
“Start from scratch.”
A forkful of eggs hovers in midair. “You wouldn’t.”
