this bastard. The body was a fickle, betraying thing, and it’d chosen Sully Sinclair to be my own personal hell.
Where had my decision to wear that sack of a jumper gone? I should permanently live in that hideous thing…if only to protect myself from someone I wasn’t equipped to withstand.
He took his time replying, his stomach rippling with yet more tension. “No, I don’t.” He peered into my face, seeing my strain, my stress, the aftermath of countless sex. “However, not many have fainted at my feet. I figured I’d be protecting an investment if I came to check on you personally.”
I fought the urge to back up. “So the bath and the smoothie and all that delicious food…that’s you ‘protecting your investment?’”
He raked a hand through his hair, dispelling clinging ocean and encouraging the dark, bronze-tipped strands to dry. “No, each goddess receives those things after she’s…worked. I’m aware that your system needs fortification.”
“So magnanimous of you.”
He smirked. “I try.” His attention slipped from mine, drifting to the table still groaning with food. A scowl tangled his face. “You didn’t eat.” Temper flashed as he looked back at me. “Why the fuck haven’t you eaten? Remember what happened last time?”
I squeaked as he grabbed my elbow and marched me toward the deck. Pika chased us, chirping as Sully pushed me into a chair, wiped his hand free of the mixture of sunscreen and sand from my skin, and reached for a scrumptious-looking raspberry pastry. Plopping it onto the empty plate in front of me, he commanded, “Eat. Unless you want to visit Dr. Campbell and his syringes again?”
Grabbing the pastry, I shooed Pika away as he tried to nibble it, and glowered. “I was going to eat. I have eaten. I’ve been…listening to what my system needs, and it needs rest.”
He reached for the remaining wedge of watermelon, unsheathing his teeth and taking a bite so big, pink juice dribbled through his five o’clock shadow.
I froze.
I shivered.
I couldn’t look away as his tongue darted between his lips, catching as much of the fruit juice as he could before he wiped the rest away with the back of his hand. His eyes closed in bliss, his jaw working as he chewed, his throat contracting as he swallowed.
He. Was. Gorgeous.
Drop-dead, fantasy-created perfection.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to leap up and scratch and scar him. To make him as ugly as his chosen profession.
My appetite vanished as my stomach clenched with disgust. How could I find him so appealing when he’d sentenced me to four years of slavery?
He grabbed the chair next to me, sitting tall and selecting a big bowl of tempeh satay skewers dripping in peanut sauce, accompanied with pickled cabbage and carrot. Slipping the entire length of tempeh into his mouth, he placed the empty skewer back into the bowl, his gaze catching mine as he chewed.
Thanks to the shade offered by the large umbrella, I noticed things that the sun had hidden. Smudges decorated under his eyes, and his body seemed leaner, tight over muscles as if he hadn’t eaten in a while. His hands shook slightly as he chose another satay stick and quickly devoured it.
He ate as if he’d been subjected to elixir and all the spiritual, physical, and emotional exhaustion that came with it.
What could that mean?
Had he used another goddess last night after handing me over? Who had been the guest I slept with? I hadn’t seen him around the island, and it hadn’t been the man who’d said he couldn’t wait to be with me when Jealousy and I had bumped into the two guests.
My heart rate picked up, confusion trying to rearrange into crazy conclusions.
“Eat,” Sully muttered, doling out a large ladle of veggie mie goreng onto my plate.
Taking a bite of my pastry, I asked softly, “Why are you so hungry?”
He froze. His gaze snagged mine, turning navy with hesitation. Tearing his attention away, he grunted, “I forgot to eat breakfast.”
“Uh-huh…” I picked a gooey raspberry from the sweet custard of the pastry.
He glowered, hating my disbelief. “I was…I overdid it with exercise last night.”
“And what sort of exercise was that?” I braced myself with acknowledgement that he was busy fucking a goddess until neither could walk straight. I wanted him to admit that whatever this electricity was—that only seemed to increase in voltage between us—meant absolutely nothing to him.
That would give me clear boundaries to stop allowing my body to twist my mind, to prevent my heart from getting involved.