Page 152 of Fixation

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “Really?”

He sucks in a sharp breath, as if the question offends him. As if I should’ve realized sooner that yes, really.

“You’re forgetting this, um…thing between us…” I should be afraid of him. Instead, I let him drag my hand to his lips. I’m hot all over when he brings my knuckles to his mouth.

My sanity slips away from me. I whimper, my thighs clenching.

I wish he’d never let go.

“Yes?”

Blinking, I force myself to return to the present moment. “This thing between us has been one-sided for over two months.”

“I haven’t forgotten about that,” he announces, placing my hand on the fork. Moving the other one to the knife. “Now. Eat or I’ll feed you, kitten. I have to catch up on some sleep, but I won’t be able to do that if I’m worried about you.”

His voice stays as flat as his expression. The concern over my well-being is absolute. A fact.

It simplyis.

So I eat.

Anderson joins me, the silverware moving over his plate with insane precision. Deliberate slices of his omelet. Straight lines across his bacon.

He even cuts into his toast. A small piece to match the one he made of his eggs and his bacon.

They fit together perfectly before disappearing into his gorgeous mouth.

If that’s how he treats his food, I can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s in the OR. His entire focus centered on saving lives. On sutures and incisions.

I never thought the idea of observing surgery would turn me on. I do now.

“I can smell you, Harper.” Holy fuck, his hand on my thigh and these crude words. I’m going to die. “You want me to bend you over the table? Spank you raw until you eat? Is that what’s turning you on?”

“Not everything has to do with sex.” That isn’t a flat-out lie.

Nothing had to do with sex before I met Anderson.

That was before.

Since then, I’ve been dreaming of sex in my sleep.

He squeezes my thigh. His food is long forgotten. “Hmm.”

The tension in the room is heavy. Another second of this and I’ll do the most selfish thing. I’ll take him up on his offer to fuck me.

Can’t do that to him. He needs to catch up on some sleep. Lots of it.

I can’t keep distracting him with sex, so instead I say, “Doctors aren’t supposed to murder people.”

“Is there a question there?” Anderson piles another perfect slice on his fork, shoving them in my mouth this time. Using his free hand around the back of my head, he makes me stay put. Leveling me with his depraved glare. “Eat. Up.”

His glare says that whether I’m hungry or not, I’m eating.

He’s as intense and controlling as he was the first time he locked me up in his basement.

It’s a challenge to chew when the only thing I want is to spread my legs for him.

“Good girl.” After he puts the fork down, his palm curls around my throat. “Let me feel you swallow.”