And it's working.
Heat flickers low in my belly, sharp and sweet, and I swear my panties is doing the equivalent of waving a tiny white flag. The room feels warmer too—like someone dimmed the lights just for us.
"Zach..." I whisper, breath catching.
"Come upstairs with me," he murmurs back, voice a deep, sinful rumble that shoots straight through me. "Please."
I'mthisclose—dangerously close—to saying screw it, let the twins babysit Lucy, who cares—
But I manage to choke out a laugh.
"We... we can't."
He jerks back just enough to look at me, betrayal written all over his gorgeous, ridiculous face.
"Why not?"
I tilt my head toward Lucy.
He follows my gaze...and see both Archer twins leaning in toward her like synchronized devils, elbows on the table, grinning like they're plotting her abduction.
Lucy is pink.Pink.Hands in her lap, twisting a napkin like she's trying to strangle it. She keeps darting her gaze between them, smiling so hard and so nervously she looks like she's about to pass out. Luke says something. Liam winks. Lucy visiblydies.
Dear God.
He instantly groans, pressing his forehead into my shoulder.
"You're right," he mutters, voice muffled against me. "We can't leave her alone with those two. They're—"
"—boneheads who only think with their dicks?" I supply.
He raises a finger in the air without lifting his head. "Exactly."
I laugh quietly, smoothing a hand over the back of his neck.
He sighs dramatically—full body, shoulders slumping, forehead falling right back to my shoulder like someone just stole his childhood dog.
"I'm suffering," he whispers.
"You'll live."
"No, I won't," he groans. "Baby, I'm dying."
I rub slow circles on the back of his neck, trying not to laugh. "You're not dying."
"Then why does itfeellike I'm dying?" he mumbles like someone stole his favorite toy.
I press a kiss to his hairline.
"Because," I whisper, leaning close, "you're being dramatic."
His head snaps up, eyes narrowed in mock offense. "Is this really dramatic for you?" He guides my hand beneath the table, pressing it against the hard ridge straining against his jeans.
My breath catches.
Thank God the table shields us from view. My lips curl into a wicked smirk, my mind already racing with dirty, filthy ideas. Without a word, my fingers slide to his zipper, teasingly slow, like I'm savoring the moment.
Zach's eyes widen, his jaw dropping slightly as he realizes what I'm about to do.
