Page 56 of The Aries Alliance
“Bon appétit.” We said the words simultaneously, lifting our glasses to toast.
After several minutes, I met War’s eyes.
“You good?” I twirled noodles on my fork.
War studied my face, answering once he swallowed his food. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his paper napkin.
“Yes, just enjoying watching you as much as I like this meal.”
I blushed at War’s words. From the fragrant aroma of the food to the unconscious flexing of his biceps, all of my senses woke up in his presence. I cleared my throat to refocus.
“You move in and out of your Warrick and War personas with such ease.”
“Do I now?” War’s pretty eyes lingered on my breasts before he swallowed his forkful of broccoli.
“You know you do.” I patted my hair, which I placed in a loose, high ponytail, unable to take my eyes off War’s chest.
Like a muscular god with the grace of a male ballerina and the big dick energy of a mafia boss, he distracted and aroused me.
“It’s hot in here.” I lifted my hands to fan myself.
The front of my caftan gaped again, exposing parts of my inner breast and areola. Although I had been taught better than to go braless around company, I felt liberated around War.
He lifted a forkful of noodles to his mouth, tracking my movements like a lion sizing up his prey. His eyes rested on my nipples, which hardened under his intense gaze. When I caught him staring, he bestowed a charming smile on me and studied my face.
“Before I interrupted you, what were your plans for the rest of the night?”
Since War and I stopped playing games with each other a while ago, I answered truthfully.
“Reading, journaling, and oiling my body to relieve tension.” I kept my face neutral, despite my suggestive words.
“I see now.”
“What do you see?”
“That you needed me to come over here and feed you food and this dick.” He placed his fork on the edge of his plate and rose from his seat.
My body stilled as he took a couple of big steps toward me. When he lowered his hands to my waist, I bit my bottom lip to hold back a moan. He turned my chair around before kissing the tip of my earlobe.
Although I wanted exactly what War offered, my mouth gaped at his words. He reached inside my caftan and squeezed my ribcage, making my heart skip several beats. When I sucked in my breath, he released me and lifted his hands.
“If you want it, of course. My primary reason for reaching out was to check on you after today.”
War’s casual, no-pressure kindness made me want to nestle up under him like a puppy and enjoy his covering, even if it didn’t end in sex.
“Of course I want to climb you like a tree and hike my leg up like a dog in heat, but finish eating.” I nodded toward his plate.
War’s deep belly laugh had me chuckling right along with him. He stepped back and sat down, returning his attention to his plate, where he low-key pouted before forking broccoli and cabbage with his utensil, then placing it in his mouth.
“I also want to talk to you about what happened at work,” I said.
“Okay, but before we do that, I have a confession.” He spoke the words with such seriousness I worried for a moment.
“What is it?”
Was our utopian bubble about to burst?
The question barely left my mouth without my heart skipping a beat. Catastrophizing situations was part of my trauma too.
