Page 56 of Stars in Umbra
She tried to hide it with a simper of her own, but her cheeks betrayed her, pinking in the candlelight.
‘Sante,’ she murmured, remembering her manners, smoothing a hand down her thigh. ‘You clean up all right, too.’
Damn, he was beautiful, in his dominant male energy; the luminous lighting kissed every hard line of his body.
He wore a tailored black shirt with the top buttons undone.
His throat was bare save for the glint of a singular chain.
Its sleeves rolled up to reveal his sinewed forearms, inked with glyphs that pulsed with a faint, internal glow.
His trousers were dark gray, knife-creased, fitting his massive legs like they’d been cut for him alone.
His premium leather boots were tapered and matte, stylish yet understated.
Still, it was his gaze that she locked onto, her body thrumming, wondering how he was able to ruin her with just a look.
Worse, his scorching focus made it clear he might like to worship her body, too.
He gave her that crooked smile, packed with roguish mystery, and her pulse misfired again, in a frantic rhythm that pulsated through her veins.
Dinner arrived steaming, aromatic, and sinfully plated.
The grilled fish was basted in a delicate citrus-ginger glazethat shimmered under the ambient light, its skin crisp and golden.
Truffle-dusted greens curled beside it, while on a second platter, lamb ribs glistened with a honeyed dark sheen.
The scent alone was mouthwatering, promising a feast for the senses.
Rina’s eyes widened as the server uncovered each dish, her breath catching in her throat.
‘This looks insane,’ she breathed.
Mo’s eyes never left her, a slow, intimate quirk on his lips.
‘Savor it first,’ he murmured, his rough utterance vibrating through her.
He sliced a delicate piece of the fish and lifted it to her mouth with the edge of his fork.
It was a gesture so gentle it was at odds with his formidable size.
She hesitated, needing a second to steady herself.
With a smile, she leaned in and bit in. The flavor was sublime.
Layers of spice, heat, and citrus bloomed across her tongue in a perfect symphony.
‘Fokk,’ she whispered, swallowing, her eyes dilated with genuine pleasure. ‘I wasn’t even hungry. Now, I want to devour everything in sight.’
Mo’s laugh was a rough, velvet soundscape.
He poured more wine into her glass with one hand, never breaking eye contact, as if their connection was the only thing that mattered in the world.
‘You’re quite the host.’
‘It was my primary job atThe Osirianto nurture the needs of our clientele, even though I was guarding them. Can’t get rid of old habits.’
She tilted her head, eyeing him through her lashes, a new wave of fascination washing over her. ‘You make it feel like a ritual.’
