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We sit like that for a moment, and then he takes another piece of bread and extends it to me. “Eat.”
It’s another order, but somehow, I don’t mind. I’m getting the impression this dominant attitude is how he shows his care.
I accept the bread from his fingers, and his smile takes on a dark edge that makes heat rush through me and sends my insides quivering all over again.
“So, um… your tattoo. What’s that of?” I turn back to my plate, trying to remember that this dinner is still about getting to know them and not about what being near them is doing to me.
No matter how much Phineas appears to be working toward that result anyway.
“A protective sigil,” he replies. “One from my family history.”
I nod, but as fascinating as that is, I can’t bring myself to look at him again for fear of losing control of myself entirely.
Maybe later, though. When I’m calmer. And when I have more than a few feet of distance from that incredibly attractive, dominant Jekyll.
I push onward. “And, uh, Zeb. That law firm you said you worked for. Is that real?”
Silence follows for just long enough that I can’t stop my eyes from darting to him. Zeb smiles back at me, but I can tell somehow he isn’t unaffected by the previous conversation. There’s a serious note to his normally devilish expression. “Yeah. It’s the family firm out in Boston, with offices in New York, Chicago, and San Francisco too.”
I nod, trying to think what else to bring up that’s not them fucking me on the table right now.
“Mabel?” Huck says.
I glance up.
He’s holding a bowl of soup with a spoon in one hand and a hopeful look on his face.
My heart melts a little. I lean over carefully to take the spoon in my mouth, and he comes to meet me.
But he moves too fast and a little of the soup spills on my thigh.
I flinch, hissing through my teeth at the hot liquid on my skin, and Huck gasps. “I’m so sorry!” He grabs quickly for a napkin.
“It’s okay,” I assure him, but he’s already crouched down, dabbing frantically at the splattered soup and lifting my leg a bit to get at the drips rolling down my thigh.
Which is when we both realize where he is.
Huck freezes, his expression mortified. He’s still holding my leg. I’m suddenly so aware of the fact I’m in a skirt and how close he is to slipping beneath it.
Tingling runs through my skin, same as it did when I held his hand before. It’s hot and enticing and though I struggle to find my voice to tell him it’s fine, just move away… I can’t.
My core throbs. My brain short-circuits.
And my knees inch a tad farther apart.
A tiny breath escapes Huck. His fingers move ever-so-slightly back and forth on my leg, almost as if he’s testing to make sure this is happening and that I won’t freak out. He’s not looking at me, even while I can’t take my eyes from him, but I can feel the pressure of the others’ stares.
They don’t say a word.
Barely seeming to breathe, Huck lets the napkin fall. Slowly, he slides his hand higher, his fingers drifting toward my inner thigh.
My clit aches, pulsing almost painfully in time with my heartbeat out of need for this.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
I make a breathless sound of agreement.
His fingers roam higher. Brush my panties where they cover me.
