Page 227 of Darling Venom
The corner of his lips rose in that lopsided grin. We were in safe territory when we bantered, which I suspected was why we did it. Sometimes, you just need to smile and laugh. Even if it’s at yourself.
His eyes dipped to my palm, whic
h cradled my stomach. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
Not.
I’d lost my appetite around the time he admitted to remembering the night before. The second I noticed his intoxication, I let my guard down and said things I wouldn’t have otherwise.
And you warned him about drunk words?
Should’ve warned yourself about sober ones.
He powered his desktop off, pinning me with his full attention. It hammered me down. I sank into the tough pleather like a nail.
“Now who’s lying?”
“I’ll eat when I get home,” I promised.
Starvation was not in my arsenal of self-destruction.
Accidental orgasms, painful memories, and putting myself through Tate’s predictably unpredictable mood swings, on the other hand?
Check, check, check.
He peered inside each takeout lid before selecting a dessert with coconut, mango, and condensed milk. “At least eat this.”
I picked up the chopsticks and ate on autopilot without paying attention to the food. It was hard to with Tate watching me, reclined like an emperor in his oversized luxury chair. Pure full-grain leather. The kind that sold for thousands and offered a painless sitting experience.
Meanwhile, I fidgeted in my seat. Made of some synthetic blend with a talent for extracting sweat out of my thighs. It was so like him to make the people around him as uncomfortable as possible without even trying.
After my last bite, he emptied rows of bottles from the mini fridge in the corner and replaced them with the remaining takeout containers.
“There’s something different about you today,” I noted.
Tate set a water in front of me. “Perhaps my sudden optimism?”
I snapped my fingers when I figured it out. “Gratitude.”
He gave me a look that suggested he thought I was dumb and pitied me for it.
I continued, undeterred, “Are you touched that I’m here?”
I brought my hand to my cheek. A grin eclipsed my face. I must’ve looked stupid, smiling at him like I was auditioning for Jack Torrance’s role in The Shining.
His silence said it all.
“You are,” I whispered, awestruck and childish enough to tease him about it.
Those softened eyes. I should’ve noticed them the moment he caught sight of the food and avoided staring at me.
More silence.
I tapped my fingers against the armrest, waiting. I had no intention of making this easy for him. Finally, Tate offered a simple thank you, but I accepted it like I was on the receiving end of an Olympic gold medal.
Minus the grace.
