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Tate stands in front of the bed, looking good enough to eat in just his underwear. His cheeks are pink and he bites on his bottom lip. God, he’s going to fucking kill me with how cute he is.

“You better get into that tub before I change my mind,” I warn, every muscle tightening with need.

He arches a brow and then boldly pushes down his underwear. His cock eagerly bounces out, making my mouth water. I nearly break my neck as he walks by in an effort to stare at his ass.

A perfect motherfucking ass.

I get another saucy look over his shoulder and then he disappears into the bathroom.

Mine.

He’s fucking mine now.

Tate

Jude was right.

I did need to relax. Despite all the drama I went through earlier, I’m feeling much calmer. Yes, he made a mistake and shouldn’t have spied on me. No, I don’t really believe he’s just like Sean.

Sean is still the abuser in this situation.

Jude is mentally tormented by his past, but he cares about people, especially those he allows into his world.

Am I part of that world now?

I smile at that thought. Being in Jude’s world was terrifying at first. From outward appearances, he’s definitely a bit of a freak. Beyond the latex, though, he’s human with real needs and emotions.

I close my eyes and sink deeper into Jude’s tub. He must’ve used his body wash for a bubble bath substitute because it smells like him—the manly part, not the cinnamon part. I inhale the scent and lazily run my fingers along the water’s hot surface.

“I was going to feed you, but I can come back.”

My eyes pop open to discover Jude standing in the doorway, carrying one of the trays Violet uses when bringing us food to our rooms. I perk up, eager for a bite to eat. The grumbling of my stomach makes his decision to stay. He sets the tray down beside the tub on the closed toilet lid and then perches on the edge of the bathtub.

If only I could get him to take his mask off for me.

“Since you made so much soup last night and it was so good, I figured you’d like some of that,” he says, gesturing at the tray. “Violet insisted you needed more than just soup, though. There’s sweet iced tea, a couple of fresh-baked rolls for dipping, and of course a slice of pie.”

“And the flower?” I ask, glancing at the purple carnation resting near the silverware.

He grunts and shrugs. “Violet had a vase of fresh-cut flowers on the table. I snagged one. Thought you might like it.”

“I do,” I assure him, unable to keep from grinning like a dork. “Thank you.”

“Can I feed you again, sweet boy?”

Again?

That’s right. Last night when I was drunk and making a fool of myself, I somehow conned him into feeding me. My cheeks burn hot at the reminder. Jude, however, must think it’s sexy because he watches me intently like a lion salivating over a gazelle.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He scoops up the bowl and one of the rolls. I watch as he balances the soup bowl on his lap and tears off a piece of the bread. After he dunks it in the soup, letting it soak up all the delicious, juicy flavor, he brings it to my lips.

“Open up,” he instructs, voice low, as his eyes sear into mine.

I part my lips and accept the bite of soupy bread. It’s better than I remember. I’m starving and this is one of my favorite meals. With the suds in the water dissolving, my cock is on full display, the head of it bobbing at the surface. It would be so easy for him to reach over and jerk me off right here.

He doesn’t, though, and continues to dutifully feed me. Despite wanting his hands on me, his caring nature is what I need more right now. My heart squeezes, knowing he’s doing what’s best for me, not what our dicks both want.