Rose's POV
My eyes snapped open. His gaze had darkened dramatically, the warm candlelight turning his irises almost black with raw hunger. His jaw was tight, fingers gripping the stem of his wine glass so firmly I worried it might snap. The air between us thickened instantly, the easy conversation from moments ago evaporating into something far more primal.
He didn’t say a word. He simply watched me take another bite, his chest rising and falling a little faster, as if the sound I’d made had struck him like a physical blow.
The rest of the dessert passed in a haze of heated glances and heavy silence. Every scrape of my spoon against the porcelain plate felt amplified. Every time I licked a trace of mascarpone from my lower lip, his eyes tracked the movement with predatory focus. By the
