Page 85 of A King’s Obsession

I stare at my phone.

Ezra laughs from across the table.

“She’s hiding something,” I mutter, setting the phone down beside my plate.

“Probably.” He reaches for his fork like he hasn't just said something suspicious.

My eyes lift. “What do you mean, probably?”

The man suddenly becomes extremely interested in his food.

“Ezra.” I narrow my eyes, watching him avoid looking at me.

“I don’t know shit.” He answers too quickly, barely giving me a chance to finish saying his name.

He says it too fast, which tells me all I need to know. Whatever Ashlynn is hiding, Ezra knows something about it.

I’ll deal with both of them tomorrow.

Right now, I’m full, a little tipsy and enjoying myself too much to ruin my own night.

When I push my chair back, Ezra stands and tells me to come upstairs. I remind him that I know exactly where my room is, but apparently he has other plans.

“You ain’t going to your room.” He waits for me beside the stairs, giving me that look that says he isn't interested in another argument.

I should go straight to the guest room just because of his attitude. Instead, I follow him upstairs.

I’m starting to see how this man keeps getting his way.

Ezra opens his bedroom door, and I stop when I see candles burning around the room, music playing low and a massage table set up near the bed.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, looking from the table to him.

“What it look like?” He steps farther into the room, acting like the answer should be obvious.

“I know it’s a massage table, smart-ass. Who’s massaging me?” I fold my arms, waiting for him to explain himself.

He starts rolling up his sleeves. “Who the fuck you think?”

I laugh. “You?”

“Yeah, me. Take that shit off and get on the fucking table.” He nods toward it, looking completely serious.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Is that how you talk to somebody after setting up candles?”

“Jru, I done fed you, bought your ass a car, and got candles burning all through my damn bedroom. Don’t start acting difficult now. Take that shit off and get on the fucking table.” He gestures around the room, looking offended that I'm questioning his version of romance.

“You really don’t know how to be romantic.” I shake my head, trying not to laugh.

“Apparently I do. You still standing here smiling.” He gives me a smug grin, clearly convinced he's won another argument.

I tell him to turn around, grab a towel and disappear into the bathroom before he can say anything else.

The second the door closes, some of my attitude disappears with it.

I’m nervous.

I’ve kissed Ezra. I slept beside him in Miami and woke up on his chest, but tonight feels different. I can feel it even while I’m telling myself not to overthink it.