Page 55 of Condemned By Pain
He chuckles.Wasn’t he just brooding? Well, I’m not complaining.
“I’m almost twice your age, Princess.”
My eyes widen. I jump back a little.
“What?!”
He looks mature—twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight—but not twice my age.
“How old are you?” I blurt out, my voice still shocked.
“Thirty-four.”
I blink slowly. “That’s not twice, but... you’re really old.”
He’s still fourteen freaking years older than me. Jesus Christ. I never knew I was into older men. Maybe that’s why I never liked anyone my own age.
I offer him the plate, but he doesn’t take it.
“Feed me,” he says, shocking me even more.
I give him a disbelieving look. “Don’t you think you’re a little old to be asking for things like that?”
He leans his head back, watching me with an expression I’ve never seen on him before. Relaxed. Amused. There’s even a hint of mischief in his half-lidded eyes.
“I don’t think so.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. It feels like he’s flirting with me. Even if he’s not, I’m very much feeling that way.
Heat coils low in my belly, spreading warmth through me.
I pick up another piece of tartine and bring it to his lips. He takes a bite. Then another. With the last one, he bites down lightly on my fingers.
And he does all of it while holding my gaze. This thing has officially started seducing me. And not just into wanting to kiss him.
By the time the plate is empty, I’m well and truly undone—ready to throw myself at him at the slightest signal. But of course, that signal never comes.
I reach for the plate of braciole and pick up the fork to feed him, but he shakes his head.
“Use your hands.”
Who am I to argue? I’m more than happy to feel those soft, wet lips on my fingers again. So I feed him with my hand.
But with the last bite, it’s not just his lips and teeth anymore—his tongue is involved too. The tip of it grazes my fingertip, and the sensation shoots straight to my core with such force I nearly buckle.
I yank my fingers from his mouth.
“My arm’s getting tired. Feed yourself.”
I shove the plate into his hands and practically sprint from the room, flushed from head to toe.
Can he feel this pull too, or is it purely one-sided? If he does, he’s very good at hiding it. Or maybe he feels nothing at all, but if that’s the case, why all these mixed signals? Am Ithe one misreading them? Perhaps this is just how he is, and I’m overthinking it.
I hold my head, trying to stop the heavythoughts from spinning it.
Chapter 16
Salvario
