Page 109 of Undisputed Chaos
I made a soft sound of protest, burrowing deeper into the impossibly soft sheets. My mind was floating in a cloud of contentment.
Adrian chuckled, the sound rich and warm as his hand stroked up my side, tracing the curve of my hip like he was memorizing me all over again.
"I know you're tired," he soothed, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "But you need fuel if you're going to survive what I have planned for you today.”
Before I could whine, he was moving me—effortlessly lifting my limp form and arranging me so I was sitting up against the headboard, surrounded by pillows.
"There's my pretty girl," he praised, green eyes drinking me in as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Still with me?"
I nodded, blinking slowly as I took in his stunning bedroom bathed in the soft glow of morning light.
“Food should be here soon," Adrian said, sitting on the edge of the bed. His fingers moved to the ribbon at my throat, gently untying it.
"Let me check you over first."
His touch was feather-light as he examined my neck, tilting my head this way and that. "Good.” Satisfaction was evident in his voice. "No marks where there shouldn't be."
He leaned in, nuzzling beneath my ear like an affectionate puppy, his stubble scraping against my skin.
"You're perfect," he whispered, "So fucking perfect it hurts to look at you.”
I reached up, fingers tangling in his brown waves. "You're not so bad yourself, psycho."
He laughed against my skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my neck to my collarbone. "There she is. I was worried I'd fucked the words right out of you."
"Almost," I admitted, heat rising to my cheeks as I grinned. "But it takes more than that to break me."
The doorbell sounded, and Adrian reluctantly pulled away. "Food's here. Don't move."
He stood, gloriously naked and completely proud, as he strode across the room. The tattoos covering his body created a living tapestry that shifted with each movement of his powerful muscles.
When he pulled on low-hanging sweatpants, I actually whimpered at the loss of the view.
He returned minutes later with several bags of food, the rich aroma of herbs and spices making my stomach rumble. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until that moment.
“A feast, as usual,” he announced, climbing back onto the bed. "Though I'm thinking I should have ordered more.”
“No way,” I squeaked, looking between the massive takeout bags.
Adrian's smile was indulgent as he began unpacking containers. “There can never be more than you deserve, angel.”
Instead of handing me a plate, he settled beside me on the bed, opening a container of steaming breakfast.
He held it to my lips. "Open.”
The intimacy of being fed by him, both of us mostly naked, in his bed, after what we’d shared the day before, felt so romantic.
He alternated between feeding me and himself, his free hand constantly in motion, tracing my collarbone, brushing my hair back from my face, skimming down my arm.
It was as if he couldn't stop touching me, as if he needed the constant reassurance that I was real and present.
As we ate, Adrian talked about plans for later, his voice a soothing rumble that washed over me.
"First," he said, offering me another bite, "we're going shopping. Anything you want: Clothes, jewelry, art supplies. That card has no limit, angel. I meant what I said about replacing everything."
“Are you sure? I mean?—”
He silenced me with a gentle finger against my lips. “It’s not about need. It’s about want."
