Page 792 of Filthy Elites

ChapterNineteen

Oscar-style doesn't just meanjumbo lump crab meat in a béarnaise sauce. There's also asparagus, and honestly, I don't know what my favorite part of the meal is. The steak is cooked and seasoned to perfection, perfectly medium-rare, pink but warm throughout, and the lobster mac and cheese has me moaning out loud. Normally, that would make me all self-conscious, and I would make a joke to play it off, but from the way Declan is staring at me, I figure he enjoys watching me indulge, which only serves to give me hope that soon enough, he'll be indulging my every sexual whim.

Kyle comes over once we're finished. "Can I tempt you with one of our delectable desserts for two options?"

“How does the loaded mouse sound?” Declan asks as Kyle hands me the dessert menu.

It's the last option listed. Peanut butter mousse with toasted peanuts, peanut-butter-covered pretzels, brownie bites, and whipped cream.

That does sound divine, but I’m starting to wonder if this is a spot where Declan takes all of his girls. He’s been training at Rumble Dojo for years and years, working there, so he’s from the area. This very well could be his local haunt.

It shouldn't make jealousy burn inside me, but it does, for whatever reason, and I can't bring myself to commit or not.

“We’ll take it,” Declan declares. “Whatever we don’t finish, I can take it home with me, or you can have it. How does that sound?”

“That works.”

“Which option?” he asks, and I force myself to meet his gaze. His light brown eyes look like melted pools I could get lost in.

What had he asked?

“Doesn’t much matter, does it?”

"Nothing much matters," he agrees, but his eyes disagree.

As it turns out, I take one bite of the dessert, and I’m moaning again. I’m careful to only eat my half, although Declan is a perfect gentleman and offers to let me have more than my fair share.

Soon enough, we’ve polished the entire dessert off and just need the check from Kyle.

“Do you want to head to my place?” Declan asks nonchalantly.

His tone, the way he’s not looking at me now all of a sudden… has he changed his mind? Gotten cold feet?

“I have mats,” he continues. “We can grapple. Try to work off some of this heavy meal.”

Grappling. Me flat on my back, working to get my legs around him. Maybe letting our pelvises touch "accidentally."

“I could go for that. A little bit of exercise never hurts any, right?” I murmur.

“Never,” he echoes, and there are those hungry eyes of his again.

He pays, and we leave, heading back to campus. The freshmen guys’ form is called Thorn House. I still find it hard to believe he’s a freshman.

Declan parks right up front, and the few guys walking past all wave to him.

As soon as he turns off the car, I open the door. This isn’t a date. There’s no need for him to open my door for me. No mixed signals. None.

Still, we walk rather close together as we head to the elevator. His dorm is on the third floor, number 301, as it turns out.

“You have mats in the college dorm?” I blurt out.

“Ideal? No, but having a limited space to fight will make you a stronger fighter because everything you do must have a purpose behind it, or else you’ll be backed into a corner with nowhere to turn.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur.

He not only shuts the door behind us, but he locks it too. I almost wonder if he put a tie on the knob or something to let his roommate know not to come in. Who knows? Maybe Declan’s into being watched.

Or maybe I’m getting my hopes up. He wants to grapple.

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