Page 7 of Moonlit Temptation

Did he see my thoughts play out behind my eyes?

He cleared his throat again. “Madelayne?—”

“Would you like to try any of the house wines?” A waiter appeared, breaking the silence but not the tautness that wrapped around my limbs in a vise grip.

Saint rattled off one of the names from the small menu the waiter handed over. Once he passed it back and the waiter walked away, I looked at Saint ardently. “Should I expect you to order for me for the duration of this meal?”

“You’ll enjoy it,” he promised through a chuckle, unrolling the cloth napkin and placing it across his lap.

Movements that were supposed to be casual but were wielded in stiffness.

“Now I’m determined not to.”

Brat. His dark green eyes danced with amusement.

“Don’t be like that, Madelayne. Let it be my gift to you.”

“I guess.” I sighed, dramatically, while on the inside I was giddy like a schoolgirl over Saint giving me something. Even if it was a wine I wasn’t going to like. “If you insist.”

“Appreciate that.” He rolled his eyes at me, but amusement danced across his sharpened features.

The waiter came back, showing us the label of the bottle, which meant little to me, before pouring it into our glasses with an exaggerated flourish.

It wasn’t my first drink ever, far from it actually. I’d been to plenty of field parties back home where I got drunk on cheap beer and had snuck spirits into my drinks at my father’s functions, so my tolerance was pretty high for a girl who only weighed a buck twenty when soaking wet.

But I didn’t like wine. Had tried it on a few occasions and the taste left something to be desired.

Saint didn’t take his eyes off me as he lifted his glass, almost challengingly, in a silent toast.

I followed suit, eyeing the red liquid in the glass as they clinked together.

Taking the smallest sip possible, I tried my best to keep my features schooled as I set the glass back on the table.

I think I failed by the way Saint rolled his lips together before taking another sip and asking, “What do you think?”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. Those dark eyes didn’t waver from mine. He could smell the bullshit, but wouldn’t call me on it.

Instead, he took another sip from his glass and I watched his throat work with a bite to my lip that I released as he finished with a satisfied aaah.

The way his throat worked, that Adam’s apple bobbing. I sat on my hands. My thighs warm on top of them.

Setting the glass down, Saint watched me intently.

A look that seized my lungs in an iron grip.

A look he’d never given me before.

That wicked gleam that was always present in his eyes shone darker, a little hungrier. And not for the food we had yet to order.

But then he blinked and it was gone. Like it was never there to begin with.

I wanted to stab my thigh with the fork on the table.

Nothing was different in his gaze; my mind was trying to romanticize the night. Just like every other night I’d spent with Saint where he’d shower me with sprinkles of his attention.

Brother’s best friend.

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