Page 140 of They Are Mine

When the waiter disappears, I take a slow, indulgent sip of water.

Elliot’s book lowers. His eyes settle on me.

Checkmate.

The waiter sets the two desserts down, one in front of me, the other across the table.

An empty seat.

A silent invitation.

I pick up my spoon and dip it into the creamy decadence, closing my eyes just for a second as I take the first taste.

When I open them, Elliot is still watching me.

I tilt my head, glance at the empty seat, then back at him.

One heartbeat.

Two.

He sets his book down.

Slides his chair back.

And stands.

My pulse skips.

I school my features, keeping my expression composed, even as my entire body thrums with satisfaction.

He steps toward my table.

Pauses.

“Would you like some company?” he asks, voice deep, silk and smoke.

I lift my spoon, tapping it once against my lips, considering. Then I gesture toward the dessert across from me, my voice soft, warm, triumphant. “Yes.”

Elliot moves with slow, measured steps as he rounds the table, pulling out the chair across from me.

I watch his fingers as they brush over the linen napkin, unfolding it with practiced ease before settling it in his lap.

He doesn’t rush.

The kind of man who’s never had to raise his voice to command a room.

The kind of man who could tell me to kneel, and I would.

I swallow, shifting slightly in my seat, pressing my thighs together as he lifts his spoon and dips it into the dessert I ordered for him.

“Was this for me?” he asks, voice smooth, effortless.

I blink. My thoughts had wandered too far, too fast.

“Oh,” I murmur, soft, sweet. Innocent. I let my gaze flick to the untouched dessert in front of him before meeting his eyes again, playing it coy. “You looked like you might indulge.”

His lips curve slightly. It’s not quite a smirk. Not quite a smile.

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