Page 100 of King of Pain
I chuckle softly. “You act like that’s a bad thing.”
“Never,” he says, pointing at me with his fork. “But I’d like my pants to continue fitting.”
“I’d say they fit just fine,” I say, waggling my eyebrows at him. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about having a hard time keeping them on.
I laugh again, watching as he pops another piece into his mouth. The sight of him so happy, so at ease—it feeds my soul.
When he sighs and says, “I can’t believe break is almost over. I’m not ready to go back to the real world,” I find myself reaching under the table, slipping my hand onto his leg.
Chance stills, his gaze snapping to mine, and I squeeze gently, meeting his eyes. “I’m not ready either,” I admit. “This break. You. It’s all been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
His expression softens, those brilliant blue eyes warming as they explore mine. “Me too.”
Chance’s eyes remain tethered to mine, and I feel his hand slide down under the table until his fingers slip between mine,locking them together against his thigh. My thumb instinctively brushes over his knuckles. It feels so natural. Soright.
The waiter arrives, setting down our entrées and pouring the wine. We reluctantly release our hands to clink glasses and dig in.
It’s incredible. Every bite is heaven, and judging by the blissed-out look on Chance’s face, he agrees.
“This chicken marsala is insane,” he says, cutting into another piece.
“Filet’s is too,” I counter, slicing off a bite. “Here, try this.”
I spear the piece and hold it up to his lips. His brows raise slightly before he smirks, leaning forward and taking the bite right off my fork. His eyes close as he chews, a low sound of pleasure escaping his throat.
“Okay, yeah,” he groans. “That’s ridiculous.”
My dick twitches watching the way his tongue darts out to catch a stray bit of sauce. “Told you,” I murmur.
“I saw they have scampi on the menu. I bet it’s good. Maybe next time.” Chance says while cutting another bite of marsala.
I give him a slow smile. “It’s very good. I would have ordered some with our appetizer, but…” I pause, waiting for his lips to close around his fork before I add, “I was trying to avoid anything with too much garlic tonight.”
His head hits the back of the booth, rolling side to side as he groans. “Fuck, Ant.”
I just sip my wine, smirking.
After our plates are cleared, the waiter returns, carefully setting down a massive slice of rich chocolate cake. There’s an actual sparkler in it, the tiny flames dancing in the dim light. The wordsHappy Birthdayare piped elegantly in chocolate on the plate. No clapping. No embarrassing sing-along in a place like this. Just pure indulgence.
I push the plate toward him, leaning in. “Make a wish, sexy.”
Chance smirks, his eyes darkening as he stares at me. The candlelight flickers over his face, highlighting the sharp edges of his jaw, the curve of his lips. And then, those full lips part, and he blows the candle out, his gaze never leaving mine.
My dick twitches again.
He takes a slow, deliberate bite of cake, moaning as he licks a bit of chocolate from his fork. “Aren’t you going to ask what I wished for?”
I shrug, reaching for my water. “Pretty sure I already know what it is.” I set my glass down and smirk. “Why don’t you eat your cake so you can take me home and make it come true,boyfriend.”
Chance’s fork slips from his fingers, clattering against the plate loud enough to draw a few looks from the surrounding tables.
Pretty sure he doesn’t give a fuck.
“Check, please,” he calls, voice firm. Then, turning back to me, his gaze dark and heavy, he leans in and says, “Now.”
After shoring up the bill—thank you, Jen—we step out into the crisp January night air, our bodies warm from good food and laughter. Chance moves toward the passenger side of the car while I casually lift the key fob, making sure he sees me press the unlock button.
He reaches for the handle.
