Page 128 of They Are Mine

Orders steak. Medium rare.

Drinks water, no straw.

Reads while eating. Hemingway. A man of taste.

Chews with manners. Doesn’t talk with his mouth full.

Holds his silverware properly.

Oh, thank God. He’s housebroken.

I almost moan.

He cuts each bite precisely.

No exaggerated chewing. No shoveling food into his mouth like some barbarian.

This man…

This man eats like he fucks.

Slow. Intentional. Completely in control.

Oh.

Oh, I think I need him even more than I thought.

I watch him turn a page, slow, thoughtful.

He chews. Swallows. Reads. Adjusts his glasses.

I whimper.

I barely even notice when my own food arrives.

Because Elliot Sterling just became my next love.

And he has no idea.

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