Page 169 of Key of Kink

“Is he hot?”

“For God’s sake.” Quinn buried his face in his hands again.

Jess looked back at me, eyes sparkling. “Don’t worry. We’re mostly harmless.”

I nodded toward the kitchen. “I’ll give you my verdict on that after we’ve eaten.”

Sam laughed.

Quinn shifted closer, his attention focused on me with the same quiet stillness I’d seen at Obsidian.

“Oh.” Jess tilted her head to one side, her gaze shifting between Quinn and me. Then she sat back. “Oh.” She arched her eyebrows. “Well, that answers that.”

I picked up my glass and sipped the water.

At the pub the other night, Quinn had stepped into my world and made himself comfortable among the people I trusted most.

Tonight, I was the one doing the same.

Quinn

Dinner started slightly later than planned.

Maya had insisted the garlic bread required “one more minute,” and Sam had quietly taken over the stove when the sauce threatened to turn into something tragic.

By the time we actually sat down, the table in the conservatory groaned under its weight of carbohydrates.

Maya set the main dish down in the centre of the table and folded her arms. “Right. Moment of truth.”

Jess peered into the dish. “It smells okay. That’s usually a good sign.”

Maya addressed Max. “My housemates have very low standards when it comes to food.”

Sam began passing plates down the table, and Max passed me the serving spoon. I dished out the food.

“Good,” Maya murmured.

Jess blinked. “Good what?”

Maya shrugged and took her seat. “Just checking something.”

I frowned. “Checking what?”

She picked up her fork. “Whether he lets you eat.”

I was so glad my mouth was empty at the time.

Jess burst out laughing and Sam covered his mouth with his hand.

Max raised his eyebrows.

To be honest, the food was okay. The pasta was a bit on the soggy side, but at least it wasn’t burnt. The vegetables veered between mush and just the right side of raw. And the garlic bread was extremely garlicky.

It’s a good thing he isn’t staying tonight.

God, he was distracting. He’d worn a black shirt, open at the collar, and those tight black jeans he’d worn when I’d turned up to be tickled. Not staring at him became my focus throughout dinner, made slightly easier because Jess had seated us next to each other, but I still had to fight the urge to turn my head in his direction.

Sam noticed, of course. He also seemed to find it amusing, and I knew I’d be interrogated once Max had gone.