I reach for his hand resting on the table. “Really? I don’t believe you. With a sly tongue like yours, there’s no way no one has ever called you out on it.”
He bites his bottom lip, flinching away from my touch. “People don’t dare speak ill of me directly to my face.” He looks away at the people dining and laughing around us, lost in thought.
I want to climb into his mind and bury myself into whatever words and meanings soar through that thick fog. “I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way.”
“I know. You’re just gutsier than most people I know. I can’t tell whether I dislike it or not. Maybe I should consider suing you for defamation after all.”
I smile and skim his outfit. “That’s so unlike you.”
He lifts a brow, biting the inside of his cheek. “How would you know what is like me?”
“You’re perfectly aware of your beauty and power. You don’t need to sue anyone to get what you want. You know you’re breathtaking.” I smirk, giddy from the subtle blush on his cheeks. “It must be unsettling to have men at your feet with a snap of your fingers.”
“You forget yourself.” His tone is sharp, but his foot grazes my leg, lingering against my calf, and slithering higher.
Maybe subconsciously. Or definitely trying to seduce me.
Either way, I’m already his. His seduction is only feeding my desire for him. Throwing oil on fire. Does he know I crave him? Can he sense the burning ache under my skin?
“Tell me. How does it feel to have men on their knees for you? To hold so much power over someone, to know that one touch, one word, is enough tobreakthem.”
His foot moves away from my leg, and he sighs. “You’re assuming a lot here. Gettingcomfortable. Consider watching your mouth. Playing with fire will get you burned.”
I almost grin at his provocation.
Anyone else would think he’s annoyed by my probing but if you pay attention to his body language: The blue of his irises darkening, his body directly facing mine, his tongue wetting his lips and his foot seductively grazing mine.
It’s obvious he wants me back. He enjoys that I’m head over heels for him, that I’m provoking his hidden side–the part of him he refuses to show and buries under a mask of elegant poise.
“Should we order some more wine?”
“Sure, if getting me drunk is your goal.”
“I would never,” I tease.
“You’re such a fox.”
“Yourfox.”
I raise a hand to call for a waiter and order a bottle. Minutes later we’re laughing, drinking, and talking about nonsense that makes Aoi beam. He doesn’t hesitate to pour himself another glass, which is slightly worrying me, to be honest.
We manage to get through an entire Château Lafite Rothschild in less than an hour. I don’t mind spending my entire net worth on him, but does he genuinely want to get drunk here? He isn’t someone who finds comfort in letting loose around prying eyes.
Unless that also changed in the past eight years.
He snorts and it’s possibly the most adorable sound I’ve ever heard. “You’re impossible. How hard can it be to care for a Peace Lily? It’s literallytheplant recommended for first time plant owners.”
“I’m convinced it hated me.”
Aoi’s cheeks flush, making him resemble a summer sunset. He’s prettier though. “A plant can’t hate you.”
“Well, that one did,” I assure, letting the warmth of this moment ease into my heart.
Aoi laughs so brightly that I nearly wait for the sun to rise behind him.
I missed how easy life could be when I’m with him.
He’s an entirely different person than he was eight years ago, and yet I still love the current version of him. Everything about him is so perfect. He’s still as beautiful as he used to be. His laughter hasn’t changed either.
