I can’t hold back my growl of disapproval. Her eyes shoot up to mine for the first time since she started telling me her story.
“Anyway, little by little he chipped away at my self-confidence and I was obsessed with seeking his approval. I feel like a fool for letting things get so bad. It’s like every time he disapproved of something, I felt like I could never be good enough. Then he’d be so damned nice—compliment me and tell me how much better I looked wearing what he picked. It was a vicious cycle.”
Her eyes fall to her lap again, glassy with tears. I want to tear this ex of hers limb from limb. I slowly reach for her, lifting her chin with a gentle touch. “Kitten, he’s a fucking moron. You’re sitting here with not a drop of make-up on, in a robe that’s five sizes too big and you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Her breath hitches and I worry I said the wrong thing, but her cheeks flush pink as she bites her bottom lip. “You really mean that don’t you?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely, Kitten,” I state with complete honesty, hoping the truth of my words will settle some of her unease.
Without further acknowledging what I confessed, she tucks into her food again with that beautiful blush still covering her cheeks.
Blake dunks the crust of her bread into the creamy soup and slurps the morsel into her mouth. A small drip of soup escapes down her chin and I reach out wiping it away with my thumb. Without a single thought, I suck my thumb into my mouth to clean it off. Her eyes widen in surprise, then linger on my mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear she was looking at me with lust. Considering the little bit I know about what brought her to the cabin that can’t be the case, though.
“Sorry,” I apologize, even though I don’t mean it. That was probably the best taste of soup I have ever had in my life and all because it came from her sweet lips.
I am so fucked here.
If I don’t get some distance, I am going to do something we will both regret. I can’t let that happen no matter how good it will be and it would be amazing.
She’s obviously embarrassed, whether it’s from my actions or from the dribbling soup. I’m not sure, but I’m not surprised by the flush of her cheeks as she realizes that not only is she staring at my mouth, but her fingertips are tracing over the spot where my thumb raked against her lip and chin. Maybe that was a spark of desire after all.
Hot damn. I can’t even manage to be embarrassed at the fact that I’m stuffing my face like a fucking pig—enough so that I have soup running down my chin. All because the feeling of Hutch’s thumb touching me sets my blood on fire. As if that simple touch wasn’t enough, he had to go and lick the soup from his finger.
Normally, I would have been disgusted, but right now all I want to do is press my lips to his and suck his tongue while I ride his cock. It’s taking every last bit of willpower to not follow through with my desires. I have never had such an instant reaction to a man before.
In all honesty, even the douche canoe that I was set to marry never got my motor running like this man did and he barely even touched me. A small part of me wants to say fuck it and jump his bones, but another even smaller part knows that wouldn’t be fair to Hutch. Based on my last conversation with my brother, I know he just got out of a bad relationship and came back from a mission gone wrong.
Also, the fact that Drake sent him here to the cabin tells me that he needed to get away from everything. Both Drake and I only ever use this place as a getaway. Our own personal hideout when shit hits the fan. Our older brothers were never interested in this little cabin, grandaddy moved here after gran passed and they were already teenagers by then. When grandaddy died, he left the cabin to Drake and me, fifty-fifty.
I’m fairly certain Drake spends his leaves here even though he refuses to confirm it. I miss my brother, but I know he feels this need to protect me from what he is and staying distant is his way of doing that. Drake would never send someone else to our place without a very good reason. That thought is enough to keep me from acting on the urge to plunder the sexy piece of man in front of me.
I dunk another bite of crust into the soup and slurp it up carefully to avoid dripping. We finish our meal in awkward silence. When our bowls are empty and our sandwiches are gone, I scoop up the dishes and head to the sink.
“You don’t have to clean up, Blake,” Hutch says as he makes a grab for the dishcloth.
I pull it away and hold it over my head playfully. “I know I don’t have to. You cooked, so I’ll clean up. It’s only fair.” I tsk when he makes another grab for the cloth.