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I look up at him and see him give a chin tip to Rogue and Phoenix. They return it and I’m shocked to see something like amusement flash in Rogue’s eyes.
“Why aren’t you more worried?” I whisper hiss at Tristan as he guides me back to the table. “I thought you’d be freaking out about this. Why are you so calm?”
“They won’t tell anybody,” he answers, confidently.
I agree, but why does he know that? I ask him as much.
“Just a hunch,” he says with a mysterious shrug.
I’m saved from answering when our waiter comes back, this time accompanied by two servers carrying steaming plates of food.
“I ordered a few plates to share while you were gone,” he says, as the dishes are placed in front of us.
Warm garlic bread, prime rib, fried artichokes, mashed potatoes. Everything my mum and my brain tell me not to eat.
After what happened at practice yesterday, I can’t afford to cross Coach Krav again. I’ll be back training with him on Monday and I’m sure he’ll want to weigh me again.
Fear and alarm squeeze my lungs so tightly, I feel like I can’t breathe.
I have no idea how I’m going to get myself out of this.
My eyes bounce furtively around the restaurant, trying to find something. My gaze lands on the bar.
Distraction. Distracting him is good.
I place a hand on his thigh. His heated gaze immediately jumps to mine from where he was pouring himself some water.
“What if we roleplay?” I say. I sound breathless, because I am. Stress has my hands clammy and my heart racing. The food smells amazing and I’m hungry, but I can’t. I just can’t. “We could recreate how we met,” I say, suggestively. I glide my hand further up his thigh to cup his cock.
A guttural groan rips from his mouth. He leans closer until only a few inches separate our faces.
“I don’t think so.” His eyes trail leisurely down to my mouth, extinguishing any remaining oxygen in my lungs. “I’m not playing any game that requires you sitting alone and away from me in that dress.”
Tristan brushes his thumb gently over the tip of my nose before claiming my mouth with one hard, animalistic kiss. When he pulls away, he’s breathing roughly and eyeing me with dark, dangerous eyes.
“Eat your dinner, you’re going to need your strength.”
He grabs spoons and tongues and starts adding items on my plate. I try to pass on a couple of items but he explains to me the nutritional benefits of each or says “this one’s simply just fuckingdelicious” before giving me a helping anyway.
“For what?”
“Upstairs.”
Before long, my plate is heaping with food and placed back in front of me. It looks and smells glorious. My stomach grumbles in hunger even as the voice comes screaming through.
Don’t eat it. It’s bad for you. It’s gross, just like you if you eat it.
Push it around your plate.
Think about Monday. Think about if it’s worth it.
It’s not.
Only someone with no self-control would let themselves eat that.
The voice roars so loudly in my head, I’m having trouble concentrating.I’m devolving.
“You got us a room?”
