A perfectly shaped brow over one of her cerulean blue eyes creeps up as she cocks her head to the side. “New Orleans is certainly turning out to be very interesting.”
Then, I’ll be damned, her gaze drops to make its way over my body. I’m imagining it’s her tiny hand exploring me and getting acquainted with me before I do very dirty things to her. I can practically feel it sliding over my chest, down my arms, then my hands, to stop at the bulge at my groin that’s getting bigger by the second. Apparently, the perusal was unintentional because her cheeks turn crimson as embarrassment washes over her features. When her eyes meet mine again, a smirk kicks up the corner of my mouth. “We do aim to please, Miss Chavelle.” Because pleasing her would be a very nice way to spend the day. Or night.
“We shall see about that, won’t we?” She makes a quick comeback, getting her feet back underneath her and giving it back to me. “Maybe you can tell me your thoughts about the fires.” She shifts gears and takes control of the conversation. Dominique makes herself comfortable on the stool next to me as her eyes capture mine. Her gaze is filled with strength, but also a small hint of the residual hell she’s recently witnessed. A primal part of me wants to destroy the very thing that put it there.
Hattie disappears into the kitchen, but not before giving us one of those looks as if she knows something no one else does.
My body tenses once again at the thought of Dominique being in the middle of all that horror. I keep my mouth shut because I know if I comment, it would come across as questioning her professionalism. That is something I’d never do. However, I can’t pretend I didn’t see how it affected her. “Absolutely, whatever you need.”
I mean every word.
Because everything about this situation is strange. And not necessarily in a good way.