Page 59 of Strelitzias in Spring

I cringe at the nickname, not hiding my distaste. “Like I said, it’ll only take a minute.”

“Jack.” Her tone is cutting, brokering no argument. I smirk at her assertiveness and keep my eyes on her as she slides out of the booth, striding past Jack to stand in front of me. “Well?”

“Watch the tone, princess,” I lower my voice, whispering the words so that only she can hear. Clearing my throat, I nod my head and place my hand on the center of her back, right where the tattoo I designed is going. “There’s a hallway in the back. It’s private.”

“Oh good, exactly what I want. To be in private with the man who fucked me last week, left like he was embarrassed, and then interrupted my date. Sign me up.” I stop mid-step, looking over at her tight expression.

“We said it was one time,” I say softly, trying to lessen the sting.

“I know. I’m not looking for more, but a goodbye would have been nice.”

“Sorry,” I offer, surprised to hear the hurt in her voice.

“Fine, fine.” Serena walks ahead of me, giving me a view of her silhouette. While I can appreciate that she’s hot and looks even better without clothes on, that’s not the sole reason why I can’t help letting my eyes wander over the curves and lines of her body, a walking work of art. She’s grace personified; it’s in the movement of her hips as she walks, the curve of her neck as she observes. She reaches the hallway before I do and spins on her heel, glaring at me. “Now, what do you want?”

“Are you oblivious or just a good actress?”

“Huh?” Her face scrunches, genuine confusion marring her features.

“I’ll ask you again. Are you oblivious? Did you not see Ava and Celeste sitting in the corner with Dante, Greyson, and Lincoln, dressed like cabaret dancers?”

She rears back. “They’re here? I told them not to come.”

“And you believed that they would listen?”

“Well, I mean. I don’t know. I thought, maybe. I—” She breaks off, shaking her head at the news I just dropped on her. “How long have they been here? How long have you been here?”

“I got here thirty minutes ago and haven’t been able to drink my goddamn beer since the Muppets got here right before you came.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘Oh.’ Now, I asked you back here because I saw that slimy fucker try to kiss you. You backed away.”

“Very observant,” she mumbles, averting her face so that I can’t see her eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” I cup her chin and turn her face toward me, tilting it up until her neck is arched and she’s straining against my light hold. “Did you want his lips on you?”

“No.”

“Join us. Don’t be alone with him.”

“We’re on a date.”

“Make it a group fucking hang. Make him understand that you’re not letting his hands on your body.”

“Wolf, I—”

“Nope. You don’t like him.”

“He’s a nice guy,” she argues, making my insides burn.

“He’s not a nice guy if he tries to attack your mouth while you’re reading about the goddamn spinach and artichoke dip.”

“You can’t make decisions for me, Wolf. If I decide to go back to my table with Jack, that’s my prerogative.”

“You’re right; I can’t make decisions for you. But if he’s already trying to skirt around your boundaries when every vibe I’ve seen is closed off and disinterested, then he’s an asshole. I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’m worried about you and don’t like the idea of you alone with that prick.”

She stares at me, squinting her eyes as though she’s peering through my soul. “Are you jealous?”

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