Colters' Daughter (Colters' Legacy #3)(29)

She shivered at the husky thrall of his voice. She’d been completely his in Europe but now she realized she’d only gotten a taste of his dominance. They’d still been on the cusp of something new, still finding their way, and he’d likely held some of himself in reserve until she was more comfortable with him.

“Tell me something, Max. Is my submission contained only to the bedroom or do you expect me to cede control to you in all aspects of my life?”

He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, teasing it to a rigid peak. “You’re asking a lot of questions, and I’m unsure whether you’re prepared for the answers.”

“I want your honesty,” she said. “I’m not some fragile little flower who wilts because your answers aren’t all pretty and sweet. You told me not to ask if I wasn’t prepared for the answer. I have a lot I want to ask.”

“Fair enough.”

A buzz sounded and Max got to his feet. He rubbed his hand underneath her chin and slid his thumb across her cheek. “Hold that thought while I collect dinner and the things I ordered for you. We’ll discuss whatever you like while we eat.”

Callie waited as he went to answer the buzzer. She heard him say in low tones that he’d go down to get it. She smiled. He really didn’t want to risk her being seen by anyone but him.

A few moments later, he walked back into the living room carrying several boxes. He dumped them next to the couch and then left once more only to return with a rolling cart bearing several covered plates.

He parked it in front of the couch and set to work taking the covers off and preparing plates of the steaming pasta. The aroma tantalized her and her stomach growled in response. There was fresh bread—her weakness. Fresh parmesan and a bottle of chilled wine in an ice bucket.

Max settled on the couch next to her but placed the plate on the coffee table.

“I want you on your knees in front of the couch. So I can feed you better.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment she hesitated as she tried to picture what he’d asked her to do.

“Callie?”

Slowly she sat forward and then slid to her knees on the floor at his feet. She turned as he too sat forward, his thigh brushing the side of her face.

“Perfect,” he said, approval purring in his voice.

He held a glass of wine to her mouth and carefully tilted it so she could take a sip. Then he pulled it away and forked a small bite of the pasta. Raising it to his mouth, he gently blew and touched it to his lips before lowering it and offering it to her.

There was something amazingly seductive about the way he made sure the food was perfect for her. He was careful to keep the bites the right size and he never offered it to her without testing it himself.

His gaze held hers, smoky and seductive, never leaving her face as he placed another bite to her lips. He waited as she savored the decadent morsel and then offered another sip of wine.

He was remarkably patient, never tiring as he held the fork to her mouth. At one point she smeared a bit of the sauce on the corner of her mouth and when she would have licked it away, he put his hand out to stop her and then lowered his mouth to swipe at the spot with his tongue.

Warm and rough, his tongue slid across her mouth, pausing at the corner where he lightly lapped and sucked until the sauce was gone. A shiver skirted down her spine. Her body leapt to attention and her pulse sped up, jumping at her pulse points.

When he pulled away, his breath huffed jerkily and his nostrils flared. His eyes glittered with awareness, and his hand shook just a bit as he pulled it away to fork another piece of the pasta.

He raised the wineglass and pressed his lips to the same place where her mouth had been. He took a long swallow before lowering it to the coffee table.

“More?”

She shook her head wordlessly.

He didn’t take a single bite until she was sated. She’d been so mesmerized by the experience that they hadn’t spoken. She hadn’t asked any questions, nor had he offered explanations.

Only when she assured him with a nod that she’d had enough did he refill his plate and begin to eat. After taking only one bite, he put his fork down and slid his hand through her hair. Then he gently tugged until her cheek lay on top of his lap and her head was cradled against him.

He rubbed her cheek, a silent directive for her to remain as he’d positioned her and then he resumed his meal.

They didn’t speak and yet the connection between them was powerful. Instead of being awkward, the silence was comforting. She felt close to him. Like they’d shared an intimacy much like making love.

There was a strange, achy tightness to her chest and yet there was also a sense of homecoming, like this was right after so long being wrong.

Finally she was back where she most needed to be. She closed her eyes as she rested against his thigh and sighed contentedly.

A moment later, his hand cupped her head and stroked over her hair. Then he reached down for her hand and helped her to her feet. She rose to stand before him, a little self-conscious as he stared at her nude body.

“Come sit with me,” he said as he steered her toward the overstuffed chair across from the couch.

He sat first and then pulled her onto his lap until she was cuddled against his chest.

“Now ask these questions you want answered,” he said. “We’re full, I’m holding you. I’m a happy man.”