Page 110 of I'm Not Your Pet

“He is,” I agreed, gaze tracing over his body. “Why are we talking about your almost-dad again?”

Roark snorted in amusement, flexing his chest at me, his eyes flashing with heat when he saw how affected I was. “Rest,” Roark commanded grouchily. He stroked my cheek, and despite his playful grumpiness his spots were white—betraying his true emotions.

Happy.

Happy, happy, happy.

I did as I was told, grateful that Roark seemed to enjoy looking after me as much as I enjoyed him doing it. He crossed the room with a few confident strides and pushed a button on the wall. What looked like a menu popped out. The colorful hologram wavered as I watched in fascination while Roark put practically every item listed into his cart, before hitting a button to pay.

“That was a lot of food,” I commented from the bed, trying to sound coy and failing. Space food! Shit-tons of space food!

“While we’re here I figured you would want to try the planet’s cuisine.” Roark spots were fuchsia—embarrassed now—and I melted.

He paid attention.

It had only been a few hours since I’d told him how much I wanted to learn and experience new things now that I was in space—and he’d…wow.

He may be a man who “struggled with words” but as always his actions spoke fluently enough.

When the food arrived, Roark had the hotel attendants lay it out for us on a dining table that took up the back corner of the hotel room. Honestly? I hadn’t even noticed the table was there—and who could blame me? My focus had been primarily on A. Marshmallow bed or B. My new mate in a tux. The dining table was the least interesting thing I’d seen all night.

At least ithadbeen until they’d covered it in food.

I gravitated toward it immediately like a moth to flame, and Roark expertly side-stepped between me and the foreign aliens, protective stance activated till they departed the way they’d come. He pulled my seat out for me with a jerky tug that betrayed his nerves.

“Earthlings do this?” Roark waited, stiff as a board. “For dates. The pulling of chairs is customary.”

“They do,” I replied, heart wobbling with affection. “Thank you.”

He was so damn charming I didn’t know what to do with him.

Once seated, Roark dished me up a plate full of alien delicacies. There were pastries and fruits, pies and sandwiches. Nothing looked exactly like it did on Earth, but it was close enough for me to feel comfortable dipping my toes in so to speak.

Roark refused to touch his own meal until I’d started eating, maybe to be polite? Or maybe because he couldn’t stop studying my reactions. He watched me like I was his favorite movie and that…wow. That was just…

Wow.

Despite the fact we were safely inside our room and the night was dwindling to an end, Roark didn’t take his tuxedo off. He did, however, undo an obscene amount of buttons. The peek of his lovely pink skin was enough to make my dick perk up and my cheeks flush all over again.

He wassotall.

Even while we were seated, he towered over me, sitting ramrod straight, his blue eyes flickering with warmth. Not once did he stop observing me, his eyes narrowing with amusement every time I moaned and slapped the table. It was impossible not to! Especially after I tried a particularly delicious bite of something I could only describe as a spiky-green-fruit-sushi.

When I was full, I felt my flush travel lower as Roark’s eyes flickered from amused, to affectionate, to hungry black.

I licked my lips, and he groaned.

I was half-tempted to crawl across the table and sit in his lap—but…

I refrained.

Because I had a surprise for him.

A lacy, pink surprise.

And I was confident now—in a way I’d never been before.

“Do you mind if I go wash up? You know. Freshen up and stuff?” Oh no, that had not been smooth. “Because you know. Dancing. For hours. And food. And like?—”

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