The dining room smelled of roasted garlic and oak-aged wine, but Marissa barely noticed. Her entire body buzzed from the way Daniel’s gaze lingered on her lips, her neck, her cleavage every time she raised her glass.

He poured the last of the deep red into her crystal goblet, the liquid catching the candlelight. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he murmured, his voice velvet-dark.

Marissa swallowed, her throat tight. “Just… enjoying the wine.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, leaning closer. His smirk was slow, devastating. “And staring at me like you want to drink something else entirely.”

Her stomach flipped, heat pooling low. She laughed nervously, but his eyes never wavered. He knew....