Chloe’s pov
Nash tore into his steak like a man who hadn't eaten in days, and I couldn't stop watching his mouth.
We sat at opposite ends of a table long enough to seat twelve, candlelight throwing shadows across the space between us, close enough to talk and far enough that neither of us had to pretend this was anything but obligation.
Every time he finished a bite he dragged his tongue along his bottom lip to catch what he'd missed, like he had no idea what that small, careless motion did to the room.
I told myself it meant nothing. I told myself that twice more before I gave up and just watched, my own fork forgotten halfway to my mouth, my appetite for the meal in front of me quietly losing to a different one I didn't have a name for yet.
"I heard you don't have a wolf." He said
