Not deflecting.
Just there.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That part matters.”
The kitchen falls still around that.
Just for a second.
Sea beyond the windows.
Coffee cooling.
Breakfast half-finished.
And something unspoken settling a little deeper between us.
Chapter 11
Mark
Philip is still lookingat me when I lean across the breakfast bar.
I kiss him because it feels easier than sitting inside that look for too long.
Slow this time.
Not the quick amused brushes from earlier.
Something quieter.
His mouth melts against mine almost immediately, warm coffee on his breath, one hand coming up to rest against my wrist.
I let it linger.
Long enough to feel the shift of his breathing.
Long enough that when I pull back, his eyes stay closed for half a second before opening.
My heart gives a stupid little stutter at that.
“The upside of all the engineering nonsense,” I say, because I apparently cannot leave a moment alone, “is that I can now spend unreasonable amounts of time hiding in a garage with old cars and call it work.”
Philip huffs a laugh.
“A noble use of global success.”
“I think so.”
“You’re basically a very wealthy grease monkey.”
“That feels rude.”
“It was affectionate.”
I chuckle and reach for my coffee.
Philip picks up another hash brown.
