Carved in Her Bones

Peter

I'd debated texting Rhian this morning, but showing up in person had been the smarter move. I got to see the way her cheeks flushed and her lips curved into that reluctant little smile, the kind she didn't even know she gave me. Texts could never have done that justice.

What I hadn't accounted for was the frustration simmering inside me every second she spent in the back with him—Jack. I clenched my jaw as I glanced toward the kitchen, trying not to imagine them together, their easy familiarity. Just friends, she said. But the way he looked at her said otherwise. It sickened me, the thought of someone like him wanting her, hovering around her, waiting for scraps of her attention.

The restaurant was quiet—thankfully empty. It was exactly what I wanted. I needed her undivided focus, needed her to see that I wasn't some fleeting encounter she could forget about by the morning. She'd think about me, whether she liked it or not.

Movement caught my eye, and there she was, walking toward me with that hesitant grace, a glass of water in hand. I watched every step she took, savoring the way her apron clung to her waist, the strands of hair slipping from her bun, the nervous flutter in her eyes.

She set the glass down in front of me.

"I didn't order this," I said, meeting her gaze. She opened her mouth to respond, but I didn't give her the chance. "Sit." The command slipped out before I even realized I'd said it aloud.

To my surprise, she obeyed. She hesitated for only a moment, but it was enough for me to catch the flicker of confusion—and curiosity—in her expression. Then she lowered herself into the chair across from me, her shoulders stiff with uncertainty. I liked that she listened. I liked it more than I should have.

"Did you eat?" I asked, watching her carefully.

"I did. Jack made me..." She trailed off mid-sentence, her lips pressing together as if she'd suddenly realized how much I hated hearing that name. My jaw twitched, and she saw it—understood, too late, what those words did to me. The thought of another man feeding her, taking care of her... it was infuriating.

Her eyes dropped, guilty and cautious. "I did," she said again, quieter this time, correcting herself like she knew the damage had already been done.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming lightly on the table. I didn't need to say anything. She felt it—the unspoken warning, the possessiveness thrumming between us like a live wire. And from the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, I knew she wasn't unaffected.

Good.

That was the way I wanted it. 

"Do you make a habit of showing up unannounced?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me, though there was a flicker of amusement beneath her annoyance.

"Would you rather I told you I was coming? Risk you not being yourself, too busy trying to impress me?"

Her lips twitched in a defiant smile. "Presumptuous of you to think I'd want to impress you."

I leaned in slightly, holding her gaze. "Don't you?"

She bit her lower lip, and something primal flared in my chest. I felt it like a low growl building in my throat.

"Don't do that," I said, the words slipping out harsher than intended.

Her eyes widened, startled. "Do what?"

God, was she really that oblivious to what she was doing to me?

"Bite your lip like that," I murmured, clenching my fists under the table to keep myself steady. I exhaled sharply, forcing the conversation back to safer ground. "So... don't you want to impress me, Rhian?"