Page 60 of Done with You

Unsettling and unnerving.

She squirmed where she sat and squeezed her thighs together.

He knew what he was doing, and the corner of his mouth lifted up on one side a barely noticeable amount. But she noticed.

She noticed the way his nostrils flared.

The way his pupils dilated and the color of his eyes went from grass-green to forest-green. A muscle in his jaw pulsed and jiggled, and the slow roll of his throat as he swallowed made her breath catch in her chest.

“All right, I think that’s enough eye contact,” Rayma said slowly. “Like, enough for fourteen years of good sex.”

Oona blinked and shook her head, dislodging the spell or whatever it was Aiden had cast on her and turned to face her sister. “Just following the bride’s orders.”

Rayma grinned.

They dove into dinner, and although sitting beside Aiden and feeling his heat radiating off him in rolling, intoxicating waves had Oona feeling light-headed, despite not even consuming an entire glass of wine, she was in a good mood.

They chatted together, but she made sure to direct her conversation to Jordan and Rayma, ignoring Aiden as best she could, and he ignored her in turn. But that didn’t stop his knee from constantly bumping hers under the table, or their knuckles from brushing when they both reached for a bacon wrapped scallop.

And of course, with each of those little, innocuous grazes of skin against skin, she felt an electric zap that landed right between her legs.

Did the man know what he was doing? Was he wearing some kind of weird electric conductor? Because those things existed. Rayma sent her pictures of one she saw at Taboo last year. It turned the person into a conduit for an electric current, so when they touched another person, there was an electric charge.

Not entirely her cup of tea, but she wasn’t against something like that, either.

With the right person, of course.

And Aiden Lassiter was absolutely NOT the right person.

“Well, Big Lassie,” Rayma said, sitting back in her bar stool and patting her flat belly, “that was extraordinary. You’ve set the bar mighty high.”

Aiden’s smile was small. “There’s dessert.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rayma said, slamming her hands on the table, her mouth opening. She turned to Jordan. “I might be marrying the wrong Lassie. I mean, yeah, you can cook, I particularly like your puttanesca, but you don’t cook like this.”

Jordan cast his fiancée an irritated side-eye, but it was all for show.

“What’s for dessert, Big Lassie?” Rayma asked.

“Tiramisu,” he said, getting up from his seat and taking Rayma and Jordan’s empty plates and bowls.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rayma said again. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“Is it?” Aiden asked slyly as he loaded the dishwasher.

There was no reason for his tone of voice or anything else that he was doing right now to annoy Oona, but it all did. His food was delicious and she would have probably used her finger to lick the bowl clean if it’d been anybody but Aiden who’d cooked it, but that just annoyed her more.

He was sending some kind of hidden message and expecting her to decode it.

Well, she had.

His message was: You’re a freeloader and I’m not. Na-na-na-boo-boo.

Or something like that.

Well, two could play this game. She slid off her stool and gathered more dishes from the table, as well as her and Aiden’s plates and bowls. “I can do this. You’ve already done so much.” She hip checked him out of the way so she could load the dishwasher, barely catching the exchange of glances between Jordan and Rayma.

“It’s really quite all right,” Aiden said. “I just want my hosts to know how much I appreciate them putting me up.”

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