Page 12 of In Deep

The waitress arrives again, balancing a tray by her shoulder, and starts to place dishes in the space between us on the tabletop.

“This was meant to be one drink,” I tell him, quirking my eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, I’m starving and the food here is amazing.”

I stare down at the dishes, a combination of breads and vegetables and dips. The aroma reaches my nose and my stomach grumbles.

He tears a piece of bread between his fingers and plunges it into the wet-looking puree. “Try this one.” I can’t resist. I haven’t eaten dinner yet and my stomach rumbles again at the thought. Zane grins. “Are you hungry or growling at me?”

“Hungry,” I admit.

He smothers the other half of the bread in the dip and lifts it to my mouth. “Try it.”

The smile fades from his face and his eyes are locked on my mouth. I suddenly feel hot. I should push his hand away and make a joke. This can’t go anywhere. It’ll only end in disaster. But I want him to place the food in my mouth. His eyes are intense. I can’t drag my own gaze away from his face. I open my lips and carefully he slides the flatbread between them. His thumb brushing the wet side of my mouth. My stomach swoops and I’m sure my eyelids flutter.

We’re frozen like that, the bread resting in my mouth, his fingers touching my lips, and my pulse starts to drum in my throat.

“Eat it, Omega,” he whispers and I obey, closing my mouth. For a fleeting second, I capture his thumb between my lips, and then I chew, the flavour savoury in contrast to the fruity drink and strongly infused with garlic. “Good, right?”

I swallow and nod. Then, quickly, I grab a handful of what look like vegetable fritters.

He takes one too, snapping it in half between his sharp alpha teeth. “Where are you from?” he asks me.

“A little town just outside Manchester. Can’t you tell by my accent?”

“I had an inkling. I like your accent. It’s cute.”

I ignore the compliment. “How about you?”

“London. My parents are both bankers so it’s the only place to be unless you’re gonna live in New York or something.” He takes a long draw on his straw. “And what do you do for fun, Rosie?”

“Fun?” I crinkle up my nose. I’ve been working so hard to keep up with my course, there hasn’t been a huge amount of time for fun. “I guess I hang out with Sophia. And back home I used to hang out with my sisters.”

“Sisters?” he says, emphasising the plural.

“Yeah, there’s five of us. I’m the oldest.”

“Sounds intense.”

“No more than four alphas living together, I’m sure.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

I lean back in my seat and chew on the fritter as I look at him. He’s wearing a casual Ralph Lauren shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and trainers. I’m sure his outfit costs more than my rent.

“What?” he asks me, jerking his chin in my direction.

“Just trying to figure you out.”

He peers down at his watch. “Well, you’ve got five minutes. Then my time is up.”

Wiping grease from my fingers, I take a long gulp of my drink and then I slide out of the booth. “That was incredibly yummy. Thanks.”

He hurries to stand up. “You’re seriously leaving?” Amusement dances in his eyes.

“I’ve got somewhere else to be.”

“You going to let me take you on a date again?”