Billionaire's Touch(41)

CHAPTER 11



“What? You don’t like cake?”

Randi looked at Evan with horror as he stared at the carrot cake on his plate like it was a venomous snake. First, he’d seemed unhappy that they were having spaghetti for dinner, mentioning it was loaded with carbs. But he’d eaten it like a man who was starving, and all of his complaints aside, Evan had managed to completely clean his plate. Now, he was eyeing the cake dubiously.

“I try to limit my sugar intake,” Evan replied indifferently.

Randi took a large bite of her own cake, closing her eyes for just a moment as the taste of the rich cream-cheese frosting hit her taste buds. As she opened her eyes again, she stared at Evan like he was speaking a different language. She’d cheated on the spaghetti, doctoring up a ready-made sauce. But she’d made the cake completely from scratch. “Are you diabetic?” She’d never met a man who was in such spectacular shape watch every single thing he put into his mouth.

“No. I was a chubby kid. I was put on a stringent diet, and I haven’t eaten much sugar since,” he grumbled hesitantly.

His parents put him on a diet with absolutely no sweets? There were ways to encourage healthy food for children, but an occasional sweet wasn’t going to make him overweight. “What did you eat?”

“Fish, lean meats, vegetables. The same things I eat now, for the most part.”

“Were you really overweight?” It was almost an impossible diet for a kid to stick with, and she couldn’t imagine being that drastic unless he had a very real problem.

Evan shrugged. “Not much. But I was getting chubby. In my father’s eyes, I was fat. I didn’t join the family for meals, and if I weighed in heavy, I didn’t eat.”

Randi’s heart broke at the longing look in his eyes as he stared at the piece of cake on the plate in front of him. He was stuck in his own fear of eating anything outside of his normal. She’d already realized he was obsessively regimented in his routine. “Evan, you obviously work out, and you don’t have an ounce of spare flesh on your body.” She could attest to that. “It isn’t going to kill you to live a little occasionally.”

Getting up from her place at the large dining-room table next to him, she picked up his fork and slowly speared him a large bite of the cake. “Open.”

He opened his mouth willingly, giving her the opportunity to feed him the cake. She watched as he chewed and swallowed, his eyes closed so he could savor the treat.

“Good?” she asked cautiously.

He chewed and swallowed before answering. “Fucking incredible.”

Randi knew what it was like to experience great food after being deprived of it for so long. Maybe Evan had never had to scramble for food like she had, but he had definitely been forced to give up eating anything just for pleasure.

Making him push his chair back from the table as she seated herself on his lap, Randi took a bite of the cake herself. “Joan’s recipe,” she told him after she swallowed.

She offered him another bite, sharing the piece of cake with him. His eyes were lit with blue flames; his intense gaze stayed fixed on her face as he accepted her offering without hesitation. Randi smiled at him, feeling victorious because he so obviously wanted the sweet but was too afraid to break his rigid routine.

They ate in silence for a few moments before Evan took the empty plate and utensil from her hands and carelessly tossed both onto the table.

“That was fantastic. But now I desperately have to taste you,” he snarled, his face contorting to a look of frenzied need.

An electric, piercing shiver ran down her spine as she felt herself hefted up into his arms as he stood. He didn’t hesitate as he took the stairs, carrying her weight like it was nothing.

She wasn’t going to pretend, not with Evan. She needed him right now just as fiercely as he needed her. Desire was growing hot in her belly, and her core was already tingling and saturated just from anticipating his touch.

“I need you,” Randi admitted shakily as he lowered her to her feet.

Evan might be opinionated on almost everything, but he also accepted her for exactly who she was, ugly past and all. He hadn’t batted an eyelash when she’d confessed that her mother had been a prostitute, and he hadn’t shied away. Gently, sweetly, he’d tried to comfort her, make her feel safe again after her nightmare, and she’d never seen one single sign that he thought any less of her after her confession.

“I know, sweetheart. I need you, too. I need to show you that you’re mine now,” he growled. “Undress for me, or I’ll end up ripping your pretty underwear to shreds.”