Page 132 of Entangled

Beau brings the cheese to my lips. “Eat.”

I blink up at him, confused heat stinging my cheeks. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

“I know you are.” He drags the cheese across my lips, and I snatch a small bite with my teeth, melting at how it crumbles softly in my mouth. His eyes are warm, the gold in them snug around the green. “Does it bother you?”

Hesitating, I shake my head, eyes tracking the rest of the cheese. He feeds it to me, then brushes his fingers softly over my lips.

“Then let me take care of you, pet. I need to see for myself that you’re okay. It’s been... a long month.”

The signs of strain are there. He’s let his stubble go longer than I’ve seen before, and worry lines bracket his mouth and the laugh lines don’t crinkle at me so freely. Mostly, it’s in his eyes. In the way they linger on me, like I might vanish in a puff of air at any moment.

My breath catches, and I kiss his fingertips gently, thanking him with my eyes. Thanking him for so much more than the food.

At my compliance, the tense lines in his forehead ease, and he slowly provides me morsel after morsel. I relax into the soft cushions and let him gift me with a few sips of wine and plenty of delicious food, and I let my body unclench from the weeks of tension. I’m in Beau’s safe, clever hands.

I watch the light kiss his skin and the casual tense and release of his muscles as he moves between me and the platter. I smile at the way he frowns as he chooses which pieces to give me, feeding me only the choicest pieces and eating the rest himself. And I eat until I’m full and heart-warm and deeply languorous.

When the food is done, Beau feeds me my last sip of wine, catching a drop at the corner of my mouth with his thumb. My breath catches.

Watching him, my heart pounding, I gently suck his thumb into my mouth and drag my tongue over the drop, licking it clean.

Something dark and hot moves in his eyes. Rather than withdrawing his thumb, he presses down on my tongue until my mouth opens, and he watches as saliva pools around the digit. He dips his head and licks into my mouth, kissing me druggingly deep until I whimper, rubbing my thighs together.

“Would you like anything else?” he asks when he pulls back, his words rough against my lips. His fingers toy with the flimsy edge of my towel.

Dazed, I meet his eyes. “Not... to eat.”

Beau places the wine glass on the table then lifts me, and I wrap my legs around him instinctively, my arms going about his neck. His hands cup my ass as he walks me to the bed, and I arch into the touch with a shudder. The flimsy front knot on my towel begins to fall open, and as he drops me on the bed, it loses its valiant battle.

His eyes drop to my breasts, and he curses, staring.

“You’re bruised,” he says in a low, tense voice, and I glance down.

My breasts are decorated in finger-shaped kisses of purple, blue, and yellow.

“Jaykob,” I explain gently. “They’re almost all from Jayk now.” I even manage a rueful smile. “They’re everywhere.”

God, I hope he’ll make more of them. He was upset, but I’ll make him understand.

I have to make him understand.

Beau’s eyes trail down to my wrists. “Those aren’t from Jayk.”

I don’t need to look to know. “No, they’re not.” I touch the left one, slightly more ravaged than the right. “Do you think they’ll scar?”

It’s a petty, vain question, but I still want the answer. I want to know if I’ll bear the marks of that time in my flesh for the rest of my life.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know, pet.” His gaze rests on mine. “Eden, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but I need to know. Is there anything I should do, or not do, around you right now? Anything at all that you might find triggering or you might not want at all?”

Oh. I draw my knees up to my chest as my mind flickers over the past few weeks, the question pulling me out of the moment, even while I appreciate the care behind asking.

“I don’t want to be tied up,” I whisper. “No bindings, or blindfolds.”

Beau nods easily, and I’m thankful there’s not one ounce of pity on his face. “Anything else, any way you don’t want to be... touched?”

My face softens. “They didn’t assault me, Beau. Not sexually. And I wasn’t raped. They hurt me and frightened me, but they didn’t do that. I can... tell you more about the details later. If you like.”

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