Page 107 of Receiving His Mercy
Leaning back, she kissed him, cupping his face between her hands.
He wrapped his hand around her hair and tugged her head back. “We need to cool things down.”
“Why?” She pouted. “The bedroom is just over there. I think we need to heat things up.”
“You haven’t eaten. Breakfast is sitting in the oven and I have to feed you.”
“I don’t need anything. I’m not hungry. Well, for food.” She gave him a suggestive look.
He grinned but shook his head. “You do need to eat. You said you barely ate yesterday. I should have put this conversation off until you had some breakfast.”
“I’ve gone much longer without food,” she complained. “I can last another hour.”
Travis gave her a stern look. “You won’t be going without food for any length of time. I’m not happy that you didn’t eat yesterday. From now on, no more skipping meals. That’s a rule.”
He tapped her nose with his finger and she attempted to bite it.
“Stop that,” he told her firmly.
“I don’t think I want to have rules.”
“Well, you’ve got them. No lying.” He set her down on the counter once more and started ticking things off with his fingers. “No leaving New York without me. No skipping meals. You need to tell me where you are at all times. You need to promise to use your safeword if you are ever uncomfortable or in pain or scared. No going to anything like last night without me. No calling yourself an intruder or weird or anything derogatory.”
“Those are a lot of rules.”
“More will likely come up.”
More? Was he kidding her? Nope. He didn’t look like he was.
Sheesh, she didn’t know exactly what to think of that.
“I need to tell you where I am at all times?”
“Yeah, although probably easier if I put a tracker on you. I’ll get onto that.”
“A tracker?”
“Don’t look so worried, not one that goes under your skin.”
Oh, right.
Good.
Becausethat’swhat she’d been concerned about.
“Wait there.” He moved away from her as her mind tried to cycle through everything that he’d just said.
When he returned, he held two plates of food that he put down on the counter. She slid onto a stool and he grabbed some cutlery.
Her stomach rumbled as she stared down at the food, but she couldn’t eat anything until she made sure . . .
“You’re sure you want someone who can’t cope that well with stress?” she asked quietly. “Someone who has the . . . quirks I have?”
“You went through a lot as a child,” he told her quietly, turning her to face him. “And if you have to cope with stress by filling up the kitchen with food or showering several times a day, then that’s what you do. But I’m hoping I can help you with your stress. Talking to your therapist will help. And if there’s anything she suggests that I should do . . . I’ll do that.”
“How are you so amazing, Travis Andrews?”
“Not that amazing. But I want to do whatever is necessary to make you happy. If that means getting rid of everything stressful in your life, then I’ll do that too.”
