Page 29 of Trapping His Angel

As Benedikt prepared a simple grilled cheese and tomato soup for me, his hands shook. I wondered if he was nervous. It was hard to get a read on him. Was his heart racing, like mine did when he was in my presence? Probably not. He was an older guy. Hot as he may be, he probably thought of me as a child.

His lust was probably due to it being morning time. Ofcourse if a willing woman was in his vicinity he would give her attention. I didn’t matter to him. I could be any broad. He probably made meals for all his side pieces.

For all I knew, he was married.

The conflicting thoughts in my mind tore me apart, as I sat quietly watching him in the kitchen. He placed a steaming bowl and plate in front of me, but I didn’t even glance down at it. I stared at him, wondering what kind of man he truly was.

My heart raced when my eyes connected with his eye.

He walked around the counter, and slowly sank into the chair next to mine, sliding my curls away from my face. His eye was beautiful and intense as he gazed at my profile. I didn’t turn to look at him, fearful of what he made me feel.

His eye stayed fixed on me as he moved the plate closer, ss if urging me to eat his food. I leaned forward, smelling the soup, hoping it would help my appetite to stir.

Nothing.

I picked up one half of the sandwich, and nibbled on the corner.

I still wasn’t hungry. I sat the sandwich down, and watched from the corner of my eye as Benedikt reached out, almost like his hand had a mind of its own, and touched my collarbone. It was showing, since the shirt had slid down my shoulders. Benedikt traced the jagged lines of my tattoo that was peeking out from beneath my shirt.

Breaking the tension, I tore my body away from him and grabbed the spoon, his eye following my every move. Benedikt grabbed the half of the grilled cheese I’d abandoned. Its edges were crisped to perfection, and he dipped it into the steaming soup. The cheese stretched slightly, a tantalizing thread of warmth between the slices of bread.

He brought it up to my lips, and as I parted them slightly, looking into his eyes, he fed me. The bite exploded on mytongue, hitting my taste buds harder than it had when I took a bite.

I let out an involuntary moan of pleasure, my eyes fell shut, and my head tipped back, as I savored the most delicious morsel of food I’d ever had. I chewed slowly, not wanting the taste and feeling to go away.

Heat surged through me from his hand feeding me another bite. I don’t recall ever feeling like this with my food. I tried to keep the moaning down, but I couldn’t help myself. Every bite he fed me was so delicious.

Like he was feeding more than my stomach. This man was feeding my soul. And I didn’t know how I felt about that exactly. The feeling that stirred within me couldn’t be named. So I kept opening my mouth, and he kept feeding me pieces.

Silently we sat in each other’s presence. I’d felt more like myself than I ever had before.

CHAPTER NINE

My phone rang, dragging me away from mymalen'kiy angel,who made pornographic sounds every single time I fed her from my hand. Her moaning had me hard, but feeding her had my cock throbbing. I never knew taking care of someone could affect me like this.

I could honestly say I couldn’t wait to make her my wife. In such a quick time, I’ve become protective of her. She would be the mother of my children. Hopefully, all boys. My blood would keep living on, even after I took my last breath.

“What?” I groaned into the receiver.

“Good morning, old man. I got some information for you before heading back to the States,” Roman said.

Thank goodness. This country wasn’t big enough for the two of us. Besides, his wife needed to give my fiancée some breathing room. Not that Isadora knew she was going to be mine legally, but I’d tell her soon enough.

“What’s going on?”

“That runner you killed. Fernando. It’s got some higher-ups in their feels for the Cartel. Apparently, he was someone important’s bastard son.” Roman was using my spy network here for this information I bet.

“Whose son is he?” Not that it mattered. I wasn’t afraid of the Venezuelans.

“Funnily enough, he’s the son of your new fiancée’s ex-fiancé,” Roman chuckled.

“Wow, sure is a small world,” I mused.

“Well, I wanted to give you a heads-up before we board. I’ll be back for your wedding, of course.” I could hear the Petrov jet behind him. It wasn’t like he would get on a commercial flight.

“Alright, I’ll catch you then.” I dropped my cordial tone as soon as we hung up.

Roman still got under my skin. I could fake being polite to him. He was the heir apparent for now.