Page 38 of Fixation

HARPER

M y whole body feels heavy. Limbs, soul, everything.

My head weighs a million pounds. I sit at the dining table at my house, my head perched on my hands, and watch Anderson make us that breakfast he promised.

The coffee is already hot. The pan is sizzling. Scents of bacon, eggs, and toast reach me. They’re as mouthwatering as watching him cook for me.

My only issue is he doesn’t say a word.

“Anderson?” Is it strange that I miss his voice?

I don’t think so.

I’m done being angry, done resenting him and everything that came before today.

My soft voice, my inability to take my eyes off him, that’s not forced. That’s not me trying to manipulate him.

These feelings…they’re real.

There’s no denying it anymore.

In the span of a couple of hours, I had sex, was showered, dressed in my own white shirt and my gray sweatpants that Anderson keeps in his closet.

He tended to the bruise on my cheek. Bandaged my ankle. Double and triple-checked it for swelling.

The fact that my condition hadn’t worsened didn’t stop him from spreading kisses over my body as if his mouth were medicine.

Then, while still in Anderson’s bathroom, he lathered me in lotion. The same brand of lotion that I use. I wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t upset. Grateful he was there with me, I let him spoil me.

After years of taking care of myself, I just accepted his nurturing.

And hey, the lotion at his house hadn’t gone bad like mine did.

Anyway.

From there, he carried me to my place. Where we’re about to have breakfast together.

A seemingly average couple.

Emphasis on seemingly .

He looks over his shoulder at me. His hair is damp, his expression solemn. My skin tingles from his attention.

“Yes, Harper?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Deep breath. “How many times?”

His brow furrows. “How many times what?”

“How many times have you been in my house?”

A weighted pause is followed by his tongue swiping over his lip. His mouth is this close to breaking into a smile. “Who says I’ve been here?”

“It had to have been a lot.” I tilt my head, resting my good cheek on the heel of my hand. My gaze roams over the stove, my fridge, before it lands back on him. “You know your way around my kitchen better than I do.”

A small lift of the corner of his lips.

Bastard. Infuriatingly hot, caring, possessive bastard.

“Okay then.” Knowing it drives him crazy, I tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. I’m toying with him. His eyes flare. “Next question. Where are the cameras?”

As he continues to stare at me, the mouthwatering aroma starts to turn.

Something’s burning.

As if sensing it at the same time I have, Anderson spins to the stove, saving the eggs by flipping them. Next, the bacon strips are placed on both our plates.

“So about these answers?”

If I could reach a hand inside his head and pull out all his secrets, I would.

Or I wouldn’t.

Hearing him say it would be ten times better. Seeing his sensual lips move. His deep voice rumbling as he tells me about his life.

Two plates land on the table. The coffee mugs are already here. Forks and knives too.

“Kitten.”

Yikes. I’ve been caught daydreaming about him.

Embarrassment pulls my eyes down from him to our breakfast.

Anderson’s fingers snap over my chin, tipping my head up. Forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been watching you.” He speaks in a low, hushed tone. Confident and unnerving. My bones rattle. “Looking after you.” Creases line his forehead. “Other than that unfortunate time when you were sick. There was a surgery?—”

“That wasn’t your fault,” I cut him off. “Your job is important. I can’t expect you to drop everything and um…stalk me every hour of every day.”

“You should.” His expression darkens. “I expect that of myself.”

His mouth presses to mine. This soft kiss sends pangs of longing through my whole body. I want a monster. A stalker.

“Go ahead, eat your breakfast.” Anderson takes the seat next to me on the round table, gesturing to my plate. “You’ve got a full day ahead of you and I won’t have you fainting on me.”

He’s serious, but he’s also tired. I can’t believe I’m only noticing this now.

“And you need to rest.” I can’t help but trace his dark circles with the pad of my thumb. I slide it under one of his eyes. The other. Guilt has my lips twisting. “You shouldn’t have answered the door.”

“Like hell.” My wrist is locked in his tight grip. Nothing painful. Just a show of possession. Ownership. “I’ll always be there for you. Whether you want me or not. You can push me away. You can beg me to leave. I won’t.”

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 simply is .

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.”

My heart threatens to explode. I’m cared for. Taken care of.

Goosebumps rake across my skin.

I obey him. I’m warm all over by watching his approving gaze.

“That’s it.” He nods, then shoves another bite into my mouth.

Once I swallow that one, he releases me. “Ask your questions.”

No one’s ever ordered me around since before high school. My pulse quickens at his authority. “Why did you become a doctor?”

He takes a slow sip of his coffee then says, “It’s the least I can do to atone for the harm I’ve caused.”

I huff. “Are you always this cryptic?”

“Cryptic?” His expression is one of amusement. “I’ve been very forthcoming.”

“More forthcoming than you are with other people, I imagine.” I’m not ridiculing him. I believe him. “Other people, Anderson, who aren’t the woman you kidnapped?—”

He cups my cheek, the touch rough. “The woman I took in. Treated. Healed. Mine.”

“Who you won’t talk to.”

“I do talk to you,” he growls, then pulls me to him for a vicious kiss.

He’s biting harder than ever. Sucking my lip. Mauling my mouth with a brutal heat that leaves me breathless.

“Answer me,” I insist between one ruthless kiss and the other.

One shake of his head is all I get. “Eat, Miss Arlington.”

Do I really have a choice? No.

When I’m done, he calls me his good girl .

That praise makes me warm and fuzzy. It makes me forget that he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to share every part of his life with me.

And then he clears the table and does the dishes. His sweet, considerate gesture melts away my worries.

“Oh!” I cry out when he scoops me in his arms.

“Up we go.” In long strides, he carries me to my studio.

Anderson lowers me into the chair by my workbench. He’s at ease, taking care of me like he’s done it his entire life.

I don’t even get to ask him for my sketchpad before he puts it on a low bench at my side.

He disappears without a word. Leaving me speechless. Missing him.

Not for long, though.

Seconds later, he materializes in the doorway again. A dark shadow holding an ice pack in one hand, a stool in the other.

My heart does this little fluttery thing in my chest. My eyes are warm.

“I would’ve put you in bed.” A person who kneels before me shouldn’t look this strong. This almighty. “But I know you. You would’ve climbed out of there and came here on your own. Stubborn.”

“I’m the stubborn one?” I drown in the depths of his eyes that remind me of the pieces scattered around my workbench. In my sketchbook. “You won’t answer a simple question.”

He helps me place my foot on the stool, then sets the ice pack on it. Ever so gently, he leans in to kiss me, and I kiss this crazy man back.

“It wasn’t a simple question.” Anderson, rising to his full height, is a formidable presence. An alluring one. My breasts swell, breath catching in my throat. “You’ll have your answers. All in due time.”

“You’re unbelievable.” And compassionate. And caring. And kind. The ice and my elevated leg do wonders for my ankle.

“Be good for me.” Though his cock is thick and his hands curl into fists, he keeps a safe distance. “Put as little pressure as possible on that ankle. I’ll be back soon.”

“To ruin me some more.” My teeth graze my bottom lip as my cheeks heat.

“Yes.” He’s at the doorway, twisting half his body to look at me. “I’ll be doing that for the rest of our lives. Until we’re both old and gray, and I won’t stop there. The devil himself will have to come and take me away from you. I fucking dare him.”