Page 90 of Savage Hearts

“Just eat,” he said in a way of explaining.

I debated whether I wanted to argue with him, but I’d had such an emotionally draining day, I didn’t have the energy.

I sat up and took in the chicken alfredo pasta in one huge plate.

There was only one fork.

“You’re not going to eat?” I asked.

I could imagine about a million other things I’d much rather do than eat while Maverick watched me.

Manual labor came to mind.

“Of course I am.”

He picked up the fork and twirled the noodles around before bringing it to his lips—lips still slightly swollen from my kiss.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Did he want me to watch him eat?

After I’d told him I was hungry?

How cruel.

But, to my surprise, he held the next forkful of pasta to my lips.

“Open,” he commanded.

I obeyed before I really thought about it, and before I could backpedal and tell him I could feed myself, he’d already pushed the food into my mouth.

I carefully wiped away some of the sauce stuck in the corner of my lips with my fingers, chewing. Flavors instantly burst in my mouth, and I had to keep from making any noises. He watched me intently, making me feel self-conscious.

“You seem to think I am just a little kid,” I muttered once I swallowed.

He smirked. “Oh, I know you’re not a little kid, Mila. I’ve seen all your curves. And I do know how old you are.”

I frowned. “How?”

I hadn’t disclosed anything about myself to Maverick. Not before and certainly not after returning to Chicago. I didn’t want to give him any more ammunition to use against me.

“You really think it would be hard to have you investigated?”

I blinked at him. “Sounds creepy.”

The fork in his hand paused midair as he regarded me with that expressionless look on his face that I hated, right before it contorted to something else entirely.

Amusement.

He found me amusing, and not the cruel kind of amusing where he laughed at me—the way I’d thought it was between us up to this point—but rather, he found me amusing in a fond kind of way.

He pressed the fork against my bottom lip and I opened my mouth without further coaxing, taking the food.

I could feel however I wanted to feel about Rachel, but there was no denying the fact that she was one of the best cooks in the world.

I savored the bite and opened my mouth once more when he speared a piece of chicken and fed it to me.

We continued our meal like that, in comfortable silence.

---