Page 165 of Killaney Fire

"Whatever you're having."

"Wine it is," I say, grabbing two glasses from the shelf. The crystal clinks softly as I set them down, and I reach for an expensive bottle of Bordeaux I keep tucked in the corner.

I use my electric wine opener, and the cork comes free with a soft pop. I pour slowly, watching the dark liquid swirl into the bowl of each glass. I can feel Octavian's gaze on me.

I glance over at him. He looks... yeah. Exhausted and beautifully handsome.

I hand him his glass, and our fingers brush. Heat flares where our skin meets, spreading up my arm and settling low in my stomach.

"Octavian, Octavian, Octavian," I sigh, taking a sip. The wine is rich and velvety. "What am I going to do with you?"

He smiles, that rare, devastating smile that makes me want to forget the world.

He takes a sip of wine before speaking.

"You know I meant everything I said," he says, putting his glass down. His voice is low. "I do love you, Keira."

His eyes drop to my lips. "You've taken over me, you know. My thoughts. My feelings. My discipline."

I smile, warmth blooming in my chest despite everything. "Go on."

He smirks.

"I once counted how many times you laughed."

I blink. "What? Really? Why?"

He shrugs. "It made me feel good to hear you do it, but not when," he stops and points at me, his expression sharpening, "it was from another man, though. That had the opposite effect."

I laugh, the sound bursting out of me before I can stop it.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I only like laughing with you."

He shakes his head. "Well, I still don't like it," he says, smiling into his glass as he drinks.

We fall into a silence that isn't awkward. It's charged and magnetic, almost. My stomach coils tight.

He watches, and he swirls the wine in his glass.

"What's on your mind?" he asks.

"About what Calli always tells me."

"Which is?"

"To be vulnerable. Stand by my decisions. Get out of my head. Don't let anger control me." I stop and take a sip, the wine warming my throat. "She tells me a lot of things, actually."

"All good things, I suppose."

"Yeah," I say, pressing my lips together. "Yeah."

I lean over and grab his hand. His fingers close around mine immediately, squeezing, and I feel the strength in his grip. He looks at me, and something in my chest cracks open.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask.

"Anything."

"When you look at me like that, what are you thinking?"