Esme looked back down at her plate, her stomach twisting. She wasn't really hungry anymore. Not because of the food, but because he was creating a strange feeling to flare in her body, and she couldn't stop the butterflies that erupted, one after the other. Throughout dinner, he rarely talked about himself. Esme would question him, but he would always answer with a shrug of the shoulders or a hum, switching the subject about her. She wasn't a big fan of talking about herself either, but he seemed intrigued by her answers. She would blink rapidly at him, trying to focus on his words. Always getting distracted by his looks. The way he kept gazing at her was alluring her in. She didn't know how he remained so graceful and calm through it all, the complete opposite of her. Each time his tongue left his mouth, a heat would ignite in her belly, flying down towards her core.