Page 32 of Room Twenty-Seven: Theirs to Punish

It was my idea to invite him over for dinner and for all of us to spend time together. At first, I didn't understand why the three of them exchanged a concerned look. My anxiety basically exploded. I was sure they were lying about him forgiving me.

Only it wasn't that. “He made us promise not to tell you, but it's probably better if you know in advance.” Nik looked worried, which made me even more anxious.

That was when they told me the truth. How he feels about me. That he loves me.

I have to admit, it sort of knocked me sideways. Never once did I imagine him having any thoughts along those lines, but then he didn't while I was living with him. He was never anything but respectful and kind. If anything, that made our betrayal feel even worse. He was so nice.

Now, knowing he kept track of me and fell in love with me, I see him through different eyes. As a man, not as my former stepfather. He really cares about me. He kept an eye on me when he didn't have to. He didn't have to be forgiving or see things from my point of view.

And he's stepped aside for my sake and for his son's because what he cares most about is our happiness.

I can't pretend I didn't have him in mind when I chose tonight's outfit: a short white dress that clings to my body and leaves nothing to the imagination. When I check myself out one last time before he arrives, the sight of my nipples poking at the thin material makes me grin. He's going to go crazy. But that's kind of the point.

I hear him talking with the guys as I step out of the bedroom, then take a deep breath before striding out toward the kitchen. “Dinner should be ready soon!” I chirp, grabbing a pot holder before lifting the lid on a pot of bubbling marinara.

I'm pretty sure Oliver swallows his tongue. I can hear him choking a little while Nik sidles up next to me and places a kiss on my cheek. “You're tempting fate, you know.”

“How so?”

“This dress?” He caresses the curve of my ass with one hand, smirking. “Spaghetti sauce? You’re sure you can keep it clean?”

“Oh. I thought you were talking about something else being tempting.”

“Well, that's another story.”

“I know I'm tempted,” Luke murmurs as he pours wine for all of us. He's clearly having as much fun with this as his friends are. Meanwhile, poor Oliver doesn't know where to look. It's almost enough to make me feel sorry for him and confess this is all a little game for his benefit.

“What do you think?” I ask him, doing a slow twirl. “Do you think I can make it through the night without making a mess of myself?”

He takes a long gulp from his wineglass before answering. “I'm sure if you're careful, you can manage it.”

“But don't be too careful,” Bane growls at me in passing, running a hand down my side before pulling me in for a kiss on my cheek.

The whole time, Oliver’s eyes follow us. He grinds his teeth and stares down into his glass, breathing heavily. He's so jealous, his skin is practically turning green. Again, I want to give in and drop the joke, but Bane and Nik are enjoying this too much. Not in a nasty or hurtful way. It's more like they're playing a prank that they know will end well, with everybody being happy.

We sit down around the table once the pasta is cooked and sauced. There's already a bread basket waiting, salad, and another bottle of wine ready to be corked. Bane pulls out my chair, then leans over from behind to nibble at my neck. Oliver’s tight-jawed jealousy is painfully obvious by now.

“This is a hell of a marinara,” Luke manages to mumble around a mouthful of rigatoni.

“I've learned a thing or two about cooking.”

“A woman of many talents,” Nik offers with a wink.

“You have no idea.”

“I think I do,” he counters.

“I think we all do,” Bane agrees, inching his chair closer to mine.

“Can I please finish my meal?” I ask, shaking my head. “I swear, there is no getting enough. You're all the same.”

Oliver keeps his eyes lowered, spearing a few pieces of pasta and shoving them into his mouth. His nostrils flare, and his shoulders move up and down with every strained breath. He wants me. He’s ready to explode.

“Are you feeling alright?” I ask him in a soft voice. “You look a little flushed.”

“It must be the wine,” he mumbles. “I feel fine.”

“Oh, good.” I glance around the table while he's looking down at his plate. It's obvious the guys are ready to drop the act and get down to what they really want to do tonight. Their lustful gazes leave nothing to the imagination.

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