ELI
Iknew Adrian was watching me before I even turned around. His gaze was a silent pressure that warmed my back, a hand I wanted desperately to lean into.
“Let’s go out tonight,” he said from the doorway. “We could hit that Chinese place you like. The one with the red silk lanterns and paper placemats with the Chinese zodiac.”
I blinked. “But you hate that place.”
“I hate the communal pots of questionable condiments,” he corrected. “Every germ-ridden Tom, Dick, and Harry sticking his fork into the duck sauce and spicy mustard.” Casually, he lifted a shoulder. “But the Peking duck can’t be beat.”
His eyes traveled over me, slow and deliberate, and something hot curled low in my stomach. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice, but he made no effort to hide it—not the way his gaze lingered on my throat, or the flush that climbed his ears when I caught him.
A small, stupid part of me puffed up with pride. He still wanted me. Still saw me.
And God, I loved the way that felt.
“Sounds good,” I murmured, sounding breathy and hot. “I can remind you of all the reasons you identify with the rat, even though you’re technically a dog.”
Adrian blinked, amused. “Oh? You think so?”
“Mm-hmm. Sneaky. Opportunistic. Food-motivated. And you get territorial and intense when you’re worked up and care about something. Loyal to a fault, stubborn when it matters, and absolutely relentless when it comes to someone you love.”
His eyebrows climbed higher. “Intense?”
I moved toward him. “Emotionally clingy in a dignified way,” I clarified, dragging my fingers down his throat just to watch his breath hitch. “You fall hard, you stay loyal, and when you get scared, you scramble to control everything. Classic Rat behavior.”
He chuffed—half laugh, half groan—the sound betraying that he wanted to argue but couldn’t, because I had him pegged and he knew it.
“And,” I added, tracing the sliver of exposed skin above his waistband with my thumb, “you hoard the good stuff. Affection, attention, time… you keep it close unless you truly want to share it.”
His cheeks warmed, a subtle flush rising under his stubble, and he dipped his head toward mine.
“Keep going,” he murmured, voice low and hungry.
I smiled wickedly. “You’re loyal to a fault. You don’t let go. Once someone matters? You guard them with every bit ofcunning and care you have. Every step, every plan… It’s for them.”
His breath caught, eyes dark and molten.
“Jesus, Eli…”
“See?” I whispered, nudging my nose along his jaw, letting the words linger. “Rat.”
And the way he kissed me, a fierce, claiming, reverent brand of his lips, proved it better than any words could.
The restaurant glowedwith lanterns swaying overhead, red walls, and golden dragons curling around the columns. The scents of soy, ginger, and nostalgia tickled my nose. We’d eaten here a hundred times, but tonight everything felt sharper, more alive, as if the universe had turned the saturation up.
We made harmless small talk, picking at crispy noodles, trading soft glances across the table neither of us acknowledged.
His foot brushed mine. It was the barest touch, but enough to send a hum through my spine.
Then Adrian shattered the moment.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked suddenly, starkly, as if the question had been vibrating in his chest all night and finally slipped out.
My chopsticks froze mid-air. “Do what?”
“The papers,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “Tell me what you were feeling when you decided to dissolve our future.”
Heat flared in my cheeks—anger, embarrassment, grief—an emotional sunburn spreading under my skin.
