Page 151 of The Elusive Billionaire

Shit. Had I?

Concern is written in his furrowed brow as he scans every inch of skin visible to him. “I was only gone a couple of minutes.”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

He holds up a bottle of champagne wedged into an ice bucket and a plate of strawberries.

“Is this myPretty Womanmoment?”

Grey’s laughter wraps around my shoulders with the comfort of the best kind of hug.

“While I’d very much like to see you in nothing but a tie, I was thinking that it might help you relax so you can sleep. The strawberries are simply what I had in the fridge, and I”—he stares at the plate in his hand—“like feeding you.”

His admission presses against my most tender pieces.

This isn’t like the other times he tried to trick me into eating. Tonight, it’s how he’s showing his love language—he’s caring for me because this is how love makes sense to him.

“You’re vexing,” I sigh.

“Well, Monroe, I hate to break it to you, but you’re the only problem I never want to solve.”

“Why?”

He smirks, then sets the champagne, glasses, and the plate of fruit on a tray that he clips over the edges of the tub.

“Because you challenge me. You push me and demand the best of me without ever saying a word. You make me better because I want to be someone you deserve.” As he speaks, he quickly undresses.

He’s built like a Greek god, all carved muscle and veins that roll and pulse under his skin.

His long legs slip into place on either side of mine, and he leans over to grab a glass and a berry. He hands me the champagne and waits while I take a sip, then another, before he takes it from me and sips the crisp drink himself.

Then, as promised, he feeds me the juiciest strawberry I’ve ever eaten. I don’t know where he gets his groceries from, but these taste unlike anything I’ve ever had before.

Leaning into my back, he drops the berry stem onto the tray and grabs another. When he reclines into the tub, he pulls me with him. I relax into his chest, and my eyes drift closed.

Cool glass touches my lips, and I open for him. He tips the champagne flute, and the bubbly liquid fills my mouth. I swallow, and he removes it.

His warmth presses into me as he leans forward, but I keep my eyes closed and listen as ice clinks against crystal.

Here, in his arms, I’m safe enough to relax, and I’m finally allowing myself to enjoy it.

The shock of ice against the bruising on my left arm causes me to gasp, and my lashes pop open as I watch him gently trace the injuries.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly I’m not even positive the words are meant for me. “I underestimated him. He should have never been able to get to you like this.”

“What did I say about playing the martyr?”

His chin is pressed to the top of my head as he shakes it left to right.

“Blissy’s was full of people, Grey. There were over ten witnesses. Even I had no idea he’d go this far in public.”

“I should’ve anticipated it though.” The ice has melted, so he reaches over the edge of the tub and retrieves another piece. Angling my head to the side, I see he’s placed the bucket of ice on the shelf beside us, along with the glass we’d shared.

He presses another piece of ice to my right arm, and once again follows the deep, angry marks.

“Can we please not talk about him tonight?” I plead. “I know what he’s capable of, Grey. I also know that I won’t allow him to win, so for tonight, I just want to pretend that I’m…normal.”

Grey kisses the side of my head—a silent acknowledgment of my request, I think.