Page 49 of Exile

“This is good,” I finally said, just to fill the space. “Almost as good as the food you make.”

Caspian huffed out a laugh, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Flattery will get you nowhere. But keep trying. I enjoy the effort.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “I mean it. I like your cooking. And you liked the cake I baked for you. We’re compatible.”

He responded with a simple nod, not taking the conversation further. He was trying his best not to give in to the tension. The urge to touch each other was irresistible for both of us, but we had to stay away until we were alone.

But as hard as I tried, as much as I wanted to keep what was growing between us a secret, I had this strong urge to not give a shit.

The idea of trying not to get caught was thrilling.

I reached for my drink, taking a slow sip before setting it down and daring to shift just a little closer. Caspian immediately tensed again but didn’t move away or glare at me. He let the right side of my body press against his left.

“There’s a thin line, and we won’t cross it,” he said, his voice a low warning.

“I’m pretty sure we crossed one very thin line last night already,” I replied, amused.

He grunted. Though he was frowning, the moment felt light.

The bar had grown busier while we finished eating. The crowd thickened, conversations growing louder, but it was like we were in our own little world. At least, that’s what it felt like to me. Caspian’s fingers flexed on the table, and then, under the cover of the dim lighting, his knee pressed against mine more cautiously.

I didn’t pull away.

Why the hell would I, anyway? I was enjoying every moment. Every little touch. Every small sign of his that told me he wanted me close.

I let my fingers slide down to my lap, brushing against his hand beneath the table. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull back. Instead, his fingers curled around mine. Carefully yet determined. We were touching in a place filled with people who would frown and grimace at us if they knew what we did and who we were to each other.

My breath hitched slightly, and I glanced at him, my pulse hammering in my throat. His eyes were dark, steady, filled with something unreadable but undeniably intense.

His jaw clenched. “I can’t fucking stand not touching you. Thought I could handle it, but apparently, I can’t.”

My heart skipped a beat, and my breathing quickened. “Then touch me.”

He squeezed my hand and shook his head before gazing at the empty plate in front of him. “Touching is not enough.”

My body tensed, and I skimmed the crowd with my eyes before they landed on the narrow hallway. The idea of fucking in the restroom was exciting, but I knew he would say no to that.

Way too risky, and I didn’t want to get kicked out of this bar.

I had another idea.

One I was sure he would say yes to.

I looked at him again, licking my lips and studying his face for a moment before asking, “What if we just pay and leave? Head back to your place?”

He eyed me closely as his hand squeezed mine. I couldn’t quite read him. He was thinking hard as if what I had asked was the toughest question ever. Even after a moment, his answer still hadn’t come. He kept watching me, and his hand moved to my thigh.

“Can you be quiet?” he asked, surprising me.

“Depends—”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes,” I said, my voice a faint breath.

Only when he wrapped his hand around my left leg and lifted it over his lap did I understand his plan.

“Are you sure?”

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