Page 9 of Damaged Princess

"I'm not your keeper. I won't pretend to be," I tell her, leaning forward and grabbing the white take-out box. "But I do think you should eat a little something. I figured you might not go for fried food, so I got you a turkey Cobb salad with avocado-ranch dressing."

Look at me being a decent human being.

I gently place the container in her lap with a plastic fork on top of it and nod to the box.

She sighs, but opens it. The salad looks delicious. It's filled with cherry tomatoes, croutons, bacon, and turkey.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "This is great." She grabs the fork, digging around. She starts pulling all the sliced green onion to one side.

I laugh and her eyes fly up to meet mine.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You can eat the onion. I have no plans to shove my tongue in your mouth on the first date." I wink.

She snorts.

"If this is your idea of a first date, Sir Wolfe, then it's no great wonder why you can't make it to first base," she says, opening the dressing and pouring a tiny bit on.

My dick is very fond of the word 'Sir' slipping from her lips.

"Vik's right. You're a whole lot of trouble wrapped up into one very angelic little package." I toss my feet up on the coffee table. "Eat the damn salad."

I shake out of the memory, to find Anastasia staring at me in confusion.

"Have dinner and watch a movie with me," I offer. "It's boring as hell around here lately. I could use the company."

Anastasia doesn't say anything. She shakes her head, staring at the floor.

"Come on," I practically beg. "It'll be like old times."

I bite my lip, raising my eyebrows, and wait to see how this shakes out.

"Yeah, all right," she agrees with a small smile.

My heart pounds rapidly against my ribs. I ache to see those little smirks and playful grins she used to give before Vik fucked it all up.

"Come on," I say, shaking the popcorn bowl. "You know you want some…"

I laugh at thego to helllook Ana shoots me. I shake it again just for good measure.

She peeks at it but groans, rubbing her stomach. "I can't. I'm still stuffed from all that food you made me eat at dinner."

It's concerning that she considers what she ate to be a considerable amount. There's a weird pang in my stomach.

My brow furrows as I frown down at Ana.

Vik is the caregiver. He thrives when he can micromanage every detail of his submissive's care. That ain't me. I'm more of an inflict a little pain here, some torment there, but don't worry because the payoff is worth it. I'm that kind of guy. I can handle aftercare. It's a necessary part of the lifestyle, but I don't live for it like Vik.

Fine, I'm a sadistic asshole. I know this about myself. I accepted it long ago. So why the hell do I suddenly feel the need to look after Ana?

"Come on," I say, patting my chest. "The scary parts are about to start and you know you're going to need to snuggle close."

"Pssh, I'm hardcore," she says, rolling her eyes. She sure scoots in close to my side, though.

I'm on the far end of the sectional, lying down, and she rests her head against my chest. It makes me feel invincible. Her cherry-limeade scent fills the air, causing my nostrils to flare.

Damn, maybe I should have thought this through a little better. I shove the popcorn on my thigh between us and nod to it. Grabbing the remote, I press play to give myself something else to focus on.

It doesn't take long before Ana is picking at the popcorn and cuddling close. I grab the fuzzy blanket off the back of the couch and toss it over her. She burrows into me even deeper, and my stomach does a bizarre fluttering as I toss my arm around her shoulder. I spend a little too much time side-eyeing Ana as the movie plays.

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