I didn’t decide to walk toward him.
My feet just moved.
One step. Then another. Like my body had already chosen and my brain was scrambling to keep up. I stopped barely a foot away, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him, close enough to see the slow rise and fall of his chest.
Too close. Or not close enough.
“Your sister left,” I said quietly.
He didn’t answer.
His eyes tracked my mouth first. Then lower. Lingering. Unapologetic. When his gaze slid back up, it burned.
My skin prickled.
“The food is ready,” I tried again, because silence was suddenly dangerous. “I made both options. Beef and fish. I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer.”
His tongue dragged slowly across his lower lip.
My pulse spiked.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, my voice softer than I meant it to be.
“Starved.”
