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“Well, you’ll have to thank Helen for me,” Shaun said, reaching over and piling food onto his plate, Charles grinning in response. Nothing he liked better than seeing people appreciate his creations. “This is…” His eyes slid to me, and he smiled. “More than I expected to enjoy today.”
Charles looked at me, cocking an eyebrow as Shaun bent to take a mouthful of the canapes. If an opportunity arose, we were each other’s wingman one hundred percent. He jerked his eyes to the stranger, widening them at me when Shaun let out a groan I could feel reverberating through my whole body.
“Fuck, mate,” Shaun said finally after swallowing the spuds. “You’re like a Michelin star chef or something. This is good shit.”
“Thanks,” Charles replied with a wide grin. “Bec here helped.”
“Yeah?”
Under the table, I kicked Charles fair in the ankle as those turquoise blue eyes came back to meet mine. I wanted Shaun’s attention obviously, but not for something I had absolutely no hand in helping.
“So how did you do it?” Shaun asked, his fork hovering as he stared into my eyes. Well, not just my eyes. They slid down to my mouth, then back up again.
“Um…how did I do what?” I asked, hearing Charles snort again.
Shaun smiled at that, something slow and feline. It wasn’t a totally confident thing, like it’d been a long time since he needed to pull this smile out, but damn, the world was missing out. His eyes had grown heavily hooded, and right now, he looked like pure fucking sex.
“Make oysters taste so good.”
It was right about now I was reminded of all the sexy shit people used to say about oysters. To me, they just looked and tasted like snot, but after loosening the meat, strong fingers brought the shell to his lips and he slurped it down. I just watched the shift of that golden throat, unable to form a response.
“Homemade Worcestershire sauce!” Charles said brightly and got to his feet. He shot me a wink, then said, “I’ve gotta just check on the meat, make sure I’m not overheating it too much. But eat up, enjoy.”
Oh, I was enjoying all right. I watched Shaun demolish a few more oysters before he stopped and offered one to me.
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I said.
“Allergic?”
“Um…no, but—”
“Try one. Seriously, they’re freaking amazing.”
He held out a shell to me, like some kind of golden god offering me a drink of ambrosia, but damn me if I cared that it was slimy crustacean instead. He loosened the meat, made sure mine was brimming with sauce and the tiny shreds of bacon that Charles had carefully cut up, then reached across the table. I did the same, expecting to take it from him and have one for politeness’ sake. Well, that and who could say no to this face? But he held onto the oyster, getting to his feet and towering over me, even with the table between us. So I opened my mouth, didn’t I, imagining allll the ways a similar scenario like this could work back in my room, naked of course, when he put the shell to my lips.
Spicy sauce, sharp citrus, and crunchy bacon all helped mask the unctuous feel of the oyster as it went down my throat, and damn me if I could taste any of the salty snottiness when he just stood there, staring at me. Right up until the door swung open and Charles the cockblocker appeared again with a platter of steaming dishes.
“I’ll just help Charles bring in the rest of the food,” I said, getting to my feet and sailing past my friend’s curious look. I didn’t stop, didn’t listen to what they had to say until I was in the kitchen, the heat and quiet almost welcome. I put my hands on the bench and just breathed for a second, then grabbed a tea towel and mopped my sweaty forehead.
“Ohhh, someone’s getting dick tonight,” Charles said in a low voice when he returned. “That boy, he’s got an intercontinental pussy seeking missile in his pants with your name on it, baby. Here’s your present. Merry Christmas.”
He slapped a box of condoms we sold behind the counter on the table. They were one of our highest selling items.
“I can’t do that. No, no fucking way. How the hell do you fuck someone that pretty?”
“Naked, dickhead,” he replied with a sharp grin. “You do it naked.”
Chapter 3
“Well, I’m stuffed,” Charles said with an exaggerated yawn. I went to help him collect up the plates, but he waved me off, scraping and stacking them with practised ease. “I’ll bring you some dessert and head off to bed. You can just leave the dishes in the sink, yeah?”
“You are?” I asked him through clenched teeth. He was fooling absolutely no one with his act. Shaun sat back in his chair with the dazed expression of someone well fed, well watered and about to be well—
“I got the breakfast shift tomorrow, chick. I don’t get to lie in bed all day.”
“Got the day off?” Shaun asked me. Of course he asked. His eyes had been on me throughout the meal and afterwards, pausing every couple of mouthfuls, watching me eat my food like it was the footy grand final or something.
“Um…yeah. Not much to do out here but paint my nails,” I said, tapping them on the tabletop. He glanced down, spending way too long looking at the candy apple polish that had started to chip.
