Page 61 of Eat Slay Love

Fabien.

A man I had only just met, yet who looked at me like he had been searching for me for years. Like he had finally found what he never even knew he was missing.

His words echoed in my mind, sinking deep into places I had long protected.

"Tu es parfaite."

A shiver ran through me, and suddenly, it wasn’t just arousal I was feeling—it was something deeper, something more profound.

For so many years, I had fought against the voice in my head that told me otherwise.

That whispered cruel, insidious lies.

That told me I had to shrink, to mold myself into something smaller, something more palatable, somethinglessin order to be worthy of love.

But that voice wassilentnow.

Drowned out by the weight of Fabien’s touch, the hunger in his gaze, the raw conviction in his voice.

I wasperfect.

I wasworthy.

I wasdeserving.

And as Fabien lowered his mouth to my breast, his tongue flicking over my aching nipple, I let that truth settle into my bones.

I let it consume me. “Oh.”

He murmured, “So fucking perfect.”

The second his mouth closed back over my nipple, my head dropped back, a gasp leaving my lips.

Oh fuck.

His tongue swirled—hot and wet—teasing the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth.

Damn!

I arched into him, my hands clutching his shoulders, my breath ragged. Pleasure shot straight through me, a tight, pulsing erotic heat settling between my legs.

And then I felt it once again—the car swerving slightly.

I opened my eyes.

Dalvin barely pulled us up to another red light and was definitely watching and. . .biting his bottom lip as if he were holding in a moan.

If Fabien knew Dalvin was watching, would he stop?

Or would Fabien make a bigger show of it—turning that dark, possessive edge on full display, letting Dalvin know exactly who I belonged to?

A shiver ran through me, part fear, part reckless excitement.

Right then, Fabien groaned against my breast, his grip flexing over my hip as he lavished attention on my nipple, his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, over and over.

Fuck!

And Jesus, the sounds—his deep, satisfied hums, the wet, obscene noises of his mouth on me—it was all too much, too fucking erotic.

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