"Very," Shiloh said wryly, making a rather childish face in Ian's direction. But he took the invitation, wrapping his hand over Ian's with a smile, staring at their hands intertwined for a moment, marvelling at it. No one in the restaurant was staring, well, to be more to the point, no one had noticed, no one seemed to care. New York was as full and bustling as the island, a mass of people crammed into a tiny space but the atmosphere was entirely different, here there was no edge, no looking over one's shoulder, no worry that anything might be taken the right way, might be used against them.
It was wonderful. Part of Shiloh already didn't want to go back, content to sit here with Ian for the rest of forever, if it meant this sort of comfort, this sort of easy happiness.
"Besides," he added, giving Ian a sly look. "Isn't that the sort of things cannibals say? Is there something you haven't told me, Ian?"
