After we finished the meal in a silence thick enough to cut with a knife, he slid a dessert plate in front of me—a rich, decadent slice of chocolate pie. The aroma was sweet, almost intoxicating, a stark contrast to the tension that hung between us. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady, waiting, like he knew I wouldn’t refuse.
“Eat,” he commanded. But there was a flicker in his eyes, something darker, more intimate.
As much as I tried to ignore it, I was fatally attracted to that darkness in some sense.
I picked up the fork, and took a small bite, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on my mouth. The chocolate melted on my tongue, warm and rich, and I fought the urge to close my eyes, knowing he’d take it as some kind of conquest.
“Good?” His voice was low, his fingers tr
