He leans back slightly, studying me. “That note didn’t scare you in the slightest, did it?”
I cut into a roasted potato and take a bite. “No.”
“Why?”
I talk in between sips of a full-bodied red wine. “Because whoever sent it wanted chaos, and you don’t reward chaos.”
His mouth curves faintly. “You think you know me.”
“I think I understand you.”
Silence settles between us, but it isn’t empty.
He stands first when dinner is finished, and he steps around the table slowly. I remain seated, watching him. “I trust your mind,” he says.
“And the rest?”
He stops in front of me. “That’s still being decided.”
He offers his hand. I take it.
He pulls me to my feet, and this time, he doesn’t stop at distance. His hand slides to my waist. “You were right about the tasting,” I say.
“About what?” His voice is just a murmur, but it’s full of want and warmth and it does strange things to my legs, my stomach, even my heart.
“That you were watching?”
He steps closer. “I’m still watching.”
My hands rest lightly against his chest. His heartbeat is steady under my palms. “Do you always reward good work like this?” I lightly ask, earning a chuckle from him.
“Only when it deserves it.” He tilts his head slightly, studying my mouth like he’s memorizing the shape. His thumb brushes along my waist, slow enough to make it intentional.
“If you’re lying to me,” he says quietly, “I’ll know.”
“I’m not lying about this,” I answer.
“About what?”
“This.”
He doesn’t ask me to clarify. His hand moves from my waist to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair just enough to tilt my face upward. Then, his mouth comes down on mine, hard and certain, and it’s the best thing I’ve tasted this evening.
My hands slide up into his shirt, gripping the fabric. He deepens the kiss, one hand firm at my waist while the other tightens in my hair. My body responds before my mind catches up. I press closer, and he answers immediately, pulling me flush against him.
The world narrows to breath and mouth and hands.
His kiss turns rougher, hungrier, and I match it without thinking. My fingers dig into his shoulders, and his grip shifts lower, strong and claiming.
He breaks the kiss only to drag his mouth along my jaw, then back to my lips.
“Careful,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Why?” I whisper back.
“Because I don’t do halfway.”
I kiss him again before I can think too hard about it, and he responds instantly, lifting me slightly so I feel the strength in him, the control.
