Page 13 of Piercing Eyes

She smiles, blushing sweetly, and Christ, the way she looks at me—it hits me right in the chest. Three words press against my lips, begging to be said.

I love you. Rory, I love you.

But I can’t say it. Not yet. Because what if she doesn’t feel the same way? Or what if it’s too much, too soon? The thought of her pulling away, of losing what we’ve just found, halts the words in place.

“We should get some breakfast,” I say instead, running my hand through her hair. “Let’s go to the best place in your neighborhood.”

“God, yes. I’m starving.” She stretches, the sheet slipping down to reveal more of her gorgeous curves. Then she sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll just take a quick shower first.” As she starts walking away from the bed, she looks back at me over her shoulder, a flirtatious gleam in her eyes. “Want to join me?”

I’m out of bed before she finishes the question.

“French toast is not better than pancakes.” Rory points her fork at me, her eyes lit up with that playful spark that drives me crazy. “You’re objectively wrong.”

“Objectively?” I shoot back, grinning. “Rory, Rory, Rory. You clearly haven’t had the right French toast.”

“I’ve had enough to know.” She takes another bite, making this little moan that goes straight to my cock. “This right here? This is breakfast perfection.”

“You’re cute when you’re wrong.” I reach for a bite of her pancakes, but she blocks me with her fork. God, I love seeing her like this—completely relaxed, completely herself.

Then her whole body goes rigid. The playfulness vanishes from her face, replaced by something that makes my muscles tense. I follow her gaze across the restaurant and spot a guy with his arm around some woman’s waist.

“Is that Michael?” I keep my voice steady, but anger starts burning in my chest.

She nods. “And apparently his new girlfriend.”

I study Rory’s face, looking for any sign that seeing him is triggering bad memories of his harassment. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just...” She presses her lips together. “I really don’t want to deal with him.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Her eyes widen. “Shit. They’re walking this way.”

Every protective instinct in my body goes on high alert. I’ve seen the texts he sent her. I don’t want that piece of shit anywhere near my girl.

“Rory?” Michael’s voice carries enough artificial warmth to make my fists clench. “Hey.”

“Hi Michael.” Rory replies without a hint of a smile on her face.

“This is Jessica.” He squeezes the woman’s waist, clearly trying to show off. “Jess, this is Rory, my ex.”

The woman gives an awkward wave, probably sensing the tension rolling off all of us.

Michael’s eyes narrow when they land on me. I see his jaw tighten as recognition hits—he knows exactly who I am.

I meet his stare head-on, letting him see that I’m not someone he wants to fuck with.

Jessica tugs at his arm. “We should find our table.”

“Right.” His eyes linger on Rory with an intensity that makes my blood boil. “Good seeing you.”

The second they’re out of earshot, I lean forward. “Are you okay? Do you want to leave?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not letting him chase me out of here.”

She picks up her fork again, but her hands have a subtle tremble. Every fucking muscle in my body wants to go over there and teach her ex a lesson about respect, but I also don’t want to makethings worse, so I follow Rory’s lead instead. We try to get back to normal, but the easy vibe from earlier is shot to hell.

When we finish eating, I head to the counter to pay. When I turn back toward our table, what I see makes my vision go red. Michael is standing over Rory, his body language screaming aggression.

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