Page 163 of Should Our Stars Collide

Kieran takes his sweet time chewing.

“My anger issues burn a lot of calories.”

“I can see that.”

He doesn’t know what face he makes, but Kieran’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s something. Just spit it out. I have a spoon and I know how to use it.”

“I just thought—”that I could kiss you“—that you have quite a big mouth.”

Kieran pauses, as if his brain is working on interpreting the comment. “I’m sure you meant that metaphorically,” he says, lips twitching.

“Of course.”

Maintaining eye-contact, Kieran slides the spoon into his mouth before pulling it out through the tight seal of his lips. It makes a smacking sound as it pops free. Then, the little shit smirks.

Ash watches it all in slow motion, as if in a trance. His dick is threatening to burst through the zipper, and Kieran’s eyes sparkle like he knows.

Ash has no idea where all that confidence is coming from, but fuck, he’s loving it. With a sigh of defeat, he reaches over to wipe away the stain in the corner of Kieran’s mouth. And if his touch lingers a little longer than necessary, who can even judge him?

“You’re a menace.”

Kieran licks his lips, shy of getting Ash’s thumb.

“I think you like it.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

It’s how much he likes it that’s the problem. He’s not used to this, to not having a tight grip on his feelings. His whole life has been about control, about conquering his mind, and sometimes the minds of others as well.

Look at him now; he can barely glance at the man in front of him and not lose himself.

Regretfully, he withdraws his hand, but Kieran catches him by the wrist. Their eyes lock, Kieran’s full of heat that threatens to burn down whatever is left of Ash’s restraint. As much as he’s tempted to slip into Kieran’s mind, he doesn’t. He already knows what he’ll find, and that would be the final straw.

“Should we order dessert?” he asks, just to have something else to focus on.

“I thought you weren’t hungry.”

“I always have room for dessert. Plus, you’re paying, so I’d like to take full advantage.”

“Self-absorbed dick,” Kieran mumbles, hiding a smile. He lets go of Ash’s wrist, flicking through the menu. “What do you want?”

It takes a considerable amount of effort not to turn into a cheesy romance character and answer with an even cheesier “You”. Somehow, Ash manages to hold back, and absentmindedly selects a random item from the dessert menu. Kieran will probably eat most of it, anyway.

They leave the restaurant an hour later. Ash did, in fact, only manage to get a couple of bites in before Kieran got his paws on it, complaining Ash is way too slow of an eater. True—Ash doesn’t eat like a war is about to break out, but his snail pace was simply because he didn’t want to leave yet.

He still doesn’t, but he forces himself to face Kieran and bid him goodnight.

“Thank you for?—”

“I want to show you something,” Kieran cuts him off, his fingers pulling on a loose thread on the pocket of his jeans. "Or do you have a curfew?”

“My goldfish is waiting for me.”

Kieran scowls, and fuck, he looks so damn pretty like that. “It will survive without seeing your stupid mug for a couple more hours.”