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“You were serious?”

Her words cause me to frown. Of course I was fucking serious—so fucking serious about her being mine and mine alone. The idea of her allowing herself to be with anyone else, giving her love away to anyone else has me on the edge of uncontrollable anger.

“As serious as a fucking heart attack, Sweetness.” My hand goes to the back of her neck, squeezing as her pulse thrums beneath my thumb.

She swallows.

“I understand,” she says.

“You understand, but do you agree?” Because if she’s not game to be with me like that, I’ll…I don’t know what the hell I’ll do. Ultimately, I’ll let her do whatever she needs and wants to do.

But I won’t lie and say there isn’t an all-consuming part of me that wants to snatch any of these imaginary men she might go to and make what I did to Jaxon Samuels look like child’s play.

“I agree,” she murmurs. She doesn’t look scared at my intensity, instead she looks…relieved.

“Good,” I say, kissing her nose.

“There is something we need to talk about though,” I say, hating to bring down the vibe again.

“Oh?” she squeaks, the sound cautious. She still remains close to me, though, so that has to mean something.

“Harvard. Do you know what you want to do?”

Shae blows out a breath and looks to the side, as if the answers to the universe are in the scrambled eggs.

“It’s okay if you don’t know yet. Or if you’ve decided you want to go… Or if you’ve decided you want to stay or do something altogether different. You get to decide.”

Because truthfully, it doesn’t matter what she does. I’ll be right there with her.

“I have until March to claim my spot. I…” She looks up at me finally, and whatever she sees there makes her smile.

It’s a cautious smile, but a smile, nonetheless.

“Take your time, baby. I’m here to support you either way the cut goes.”

Shae’s small palm goes to the side of my face.

“Let me feed you now,” she says, and damn there goes that tingly sensation in my chest.

Shae ushers me onto a stool and slides the plate across to me before filling a glass with some Tropicana orange juice.

“Bon appétit!” Shae spreads her arms wide in front of the dish before stepping back with her hands behind her back as if she were on Master Chef.

The food smells so damn good I barely register picking up the fork until the flavor explodes on my tongue.

“Goddamn, Sweetness,” I groan and she beams wide.

“You like?” she asks, looking like she just won first place in a competition.

“Like? Ilove.” I take another bite. “Wait, where’s your plate?”

Shae shrugs. “I’m not really hungry yet. I never really am in the mornings.”

She reaches over and grabs a slice of perfectly-cooked bacon. “But I’ll take some meat candy,” she adds, biting into the strip.

When she pulls back her hand and her glossy lips gleam in the natural light coming from the huge bay window, I lean forward and put my elbows on the island.

Would it be appropriate for me to have her kneel down and wrap those lips around my dick? Probably not, seeing as two other people use this kitchen.