Expensive - Amy Bellows Page 0,25

that sweet duck of his head, and my heart expands in my chest.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He relaxes against me, tucking his head under my chin again. “I can’t believe it either.”

13

Andrew

Timber’s big warm arms hold me close as I read to him. The words of the book seem to wrap around me just as tight, until I’m lost in a floaty relaxation that I don’t want to ever end.

But eventually Timber stops me with a kiss and grabs the room service menu from the nightstand.

“What do you want to eat for lunch, baby boy?” he asks.

Now that he mentions it, I am hungry.

“Does anything look good?”

He scans the list of offerings. “I think I’ll have the chicken salad since I plan to laze about in bed with you all day.”

That sounds really nice. Not the chicken salad but spending the afternoon in bed with him.

“I think I’ll have the same.”

Timber raises one eyebrow. “You always order what I order. Why is that?”

It’s a trick I learned from my alpha father when we were meeting with potential mates. I don’t have the refined taste of most Blue Bloods, so it was less embarrassing to order the same thing as everyone else than order what I really wanted.

“I don’t know. Habit, I guess?”

Timber flips the menu over and hands it to me. The children’s selections are listed on that side. “They have grilled cheese and chicken fingers. Do either of those sound better to you?”

They do, but should I admit that to Timber? He’s already seen me eating playdough ice cream and sleeping with Frankie. What is he going to think of me?

He just agreed to be in a relationship with me. I don’t want to mess that up.

I point to the top of the menu. “It’s for people twelve and under.”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Order what you want, baby boy. Whatever you want. You can be yourself around me.”

He keeps saying that.

I want to believe him.

“Grilled cheese and chicken fingers aren’t healthy,” I remind him.

Timber chuckles. “That’s true. How about this? If you order the grilled cheese, I promise you’ll get your exercise this afternoon.” He nuzzles the crook of my neck, near the would-be bond bite. “I’ll make it good for you, baby boy. Make your toes curl.”

Just like that, my body comes alive. It’s such a different feeling from the floaty happiness of reading with him. I no longer want chicken fingers; I want him.

“We could skip lunch,” I suggest, sliding my hand along his hard stomach. “Maybe do other things?”

His eyes burn into mine. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, baby boy. Not ever.”

God, I hope that’s true.

He hooks his hand behind my head and brings me in for a messy kiss, nipping at my bottom lip and diving into my mouth with his tongue. I close my eyes and let myself get lost in him.

Then he stops. “Fuck, baby. I’m having such a good time with you I keep forgetting we need to talk about what comes next. Let’s order lunch, okay? And while we eat, we can plan.”

Without thinking, I pout. I feel a little silly doing it, but the smile that comes to Timber’s lips makes my stomach flip. I think he likes it.

“You made me hard, Daddy.” I grab his hand playfully and bring it to my cock. Watching his eyes glaze over as his fingers close around me is just as thrilling as his touch. He really wants me. That still doesn’t seem real.

He lowers his mouth to the crook of my neck and sucks at the would-be bond bite. I can’t help it. I arch into him, the pain spiking through my body like a live wire. “Oh, Daddy. Please.”

“You’re being so naughty, baby boy,” he whispers in my ear. “I might have to punish you.”

I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. In my fantasies, Timber always said that in a manufactured way. Even when I dreamed of being with him, those dreams only felt good when they were somewhat realistic, and I never imagined Timber would want anything but money from me.

But everything about this is real. I’m teasing my Daddy, and he wants to punish me for being naughty. Not because he’s playing a part for money—but because we really do need to plan, and I’m distracting him.

I lower my hand to find the stiff, smooth shape of his cock.

“Did I