Page 17 of Blade

She’s tentative, but she accepts the bite, chews slowly, and grins. “Yummy.”

I’m going to die from happiness. One more act, and then I’m going to go in for the kill and make my point. I lean closer, lick the drop of sticky syrup from the corner of her mouth, and kiss her.

Her jaw drops.

I make my case. “Did your asshole of an ex ever give you a bath?”

She shakes her head.

“Did he make you perfect eggs?”

“No,” she whispers.

“How about pancakes? Did he ever cut them up and feed you because you weren’t feeling well?”

“No.”

“Did he kiss your pretty lips to get the syrup from the corner?”

She looks down.

My heart is thumping.

She sniffles and whispers, “He only kissed me a few times when we were first dating, and those times were chaste. He never kissed me at all after that.”

What a fucking prick.

I set the fork down, pull her stool closer between my legs, and cup her face. I close the distance, kissing her with every ounce of passion I feel. I tip her head to one side, lick the seam of her lips, and slide my tongue into her sweet mouth the moment she opens for me. I don’t release her lips until she’s moaning and clutching at me with her good hand.

She’s panting when I give her an inch. “You’re definitely not him,” she finally breathes out.

“Nope.”

She smiles. “Will you do that again later?”

“Millions of times.”

Her cheeks turn bright pink. She wants to believe me. I’ll show her.

“Did I hurt you?”

She frowns.

I tap her lip where it’s healing from being split open.

She licks the spot. “I didn’t even notice.”

Seven

Blade

* * *

After I finish the most delightful activity of my life—feeding my girl—I wipe her mouth with a damp cloth, lift her off the stool, and settle her on my hip. I can’t resist carrying her. She’s showing signs of fading. She’s too tired to balk when I carry her into my room.

I’m well-aware that her naked pussy is resting against my shirt, and I love it. I also love the way she leans her head on my shoulder and holds me around the neck with one arm.

When I reach my bed, I pull back the covers, lower her onto the sheet, and pull the blankets over her. She rolls onto her side and cradles her injured arm. She needs pain meds. “Why didn’t you put me in the guest room?” she asks softly.