I was.
But not for food.
Alan smirked as if he could read my thoughts, his knowing gaze flicking over my lips, then lower. He leaned in just enough to make my breath hitch. “Behave, little jewel,” he murmured. “Or I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge tonight before dessert.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
I loved the sparkle in his eyes when he was in control, when he knew I wanted him to be.
Like he was proud to have my mind body and soul at his mercy.
Then, as if he hadn’t just made my stomach twist into knots, he relaxed back into his seat, signaling to the waiter.
Moments later, the first course arrived—a delicate salmon tartare with a drizzle of citrus dressing.
Alan took the first bite, nodding in approval. Then, he speared another piece with his fork, holding it out to me.
