Her lips tilted into a slight smile.
“Sometimes. In dreams. But I always wake up before it ends.”
“I hope next time you don’t,” I said. “I’d love to hear it.”
She held my gaze, quiet. Then she nodded, just once and that felt like more than enough.
Elizabeth
Dinner was supposed to be Casual.
That was the story I told myself as I slid into the silk forest green dress that Lillian insisted, I wear. It clung just a bit too perfectly and dipped a little too daringly.
I smoothed my hair down, trying to appear casual while secretly wishing he’d take notice. I shook my head.Why did I want him to notice?
My mind was a whirlwind of heat, wine, and the way Noah was looking at me. He hadn’t touched his meal in what felt like an eternity.
His fork dangled loosely between his fingers, forgotten, as he leaned in, eyes locked on me as if he could savor me from across the table.
His gaze was darker than usual, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Intense. Hungry.
Not just for me.
Because of me.
I shifted in my seat, my heart racing like a drumbeat behind my ribs. My thighs pressed together under the table, and I couldn’t help but revel in the heat curling low in my belly. I licked a drop of wine from my bottom lip, and I noticed his jaw tense.
“You’re staring,”
I murmured, pretending to concentrate on my plate. My voice barely broke through the restaurant's hum.
“I know.”
His words landed like a bold caress. My stomach fluttered—an annoying, traitorous response.
“You should probably stop.”
A smile curled on his lips.
“I should.”
But he didn’t.
Instead, he leaned in closer, close enough that I could feel the weight of his gaze enveloping every inch of me.
“That dress should be fucking illegal.”
I smirked, though I struggled to swallow.
“I’ll be sure to alert the fashion police.”
He set his wine glass down and tilted his head, studying me like he could peer through the cracks I’d worked so hard to hide.
“Why do you always do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Act like you’re not just itching to let loose.”
