“Well, I don’t want to feel left out,” I pout. “Could I get one too?”
“’Course you can, Sweetheart, get whatever the hell you want,”Griffin says, licking his lips as if he’s salivating at the thought of the cake.
“Why do you guys want this cake so badly? Is cake really that good?”
To my surprise, Rage is the one to answer.
“It’s you,” he says, his voice pitched low as he buries his face in the crook of my neck.
“Exactly. Closest thing to us spreading you open on the table and not having to take turns feasting on your dripping?—“
“Okay, okay, I get it!” I squeak out, covering my face as my cheeks flush.
I don’t think I can take any more dirty talk without some action. I’m pretty sure the guys can scent me through my leggings.
My stomach twists and I shift from the discomfort, but I think it’s probably just because I’m hungry.
We order a ton of food. Everyone promises to let me try some of what they ordered, it’s the only way I’m able to make a decision.
I settle on pancakes, because I know I like those. I’d hate to order something, especially from a place I know is pretty expensive, and not like it.
Rage holds me on his lap the entire time Rowan, Ash, and Griffin talk about their match and their upcoming fight schedule. He spends his time with his thumb brushing back and forth on the strip of exposed skin between the top of my leggings and where my t-shirt has ridden up.
It has me melting into him.
“You know what I’ve always wanted to try doing?” I murmur softly.
“Hm?” He asks, lifting his head, his hair falling messily in his face.
“A bath,” I hum. “And that tub in the bathroom looked awful big, do you think you’d fitin there with me?”
He freezes, visibly swallowing as his gaze roves over my face, like he’s trying to gauge just how serious I am.
“Green,” I whisper, offering him a nod of reassurance.
The corner of his lips on the unscarred part of his face tug up in an actual smile.
“I want to try,” he says, nodding. “But food... first.”
My stomach, with comical timing, chooses that moment to growl.
“You’re probably right,” I laugh, throwing my head back and brushing some of my hair from my face.
“I like... green,” Rage says, his eyes darting between my eyes.
“Like the safe word? Or the color?”
“Both. Your eyes... They’re green.”
His hand comes up and cups my face, brushing against my cheek. I melt into his touch.
There’s a knock at the door that has me jolting. I guess I’m not used to anyone knocking. No one ever knocked at the last place.
And at the place before that, Rowan’s old trailer, knocking always meant something bad was going to happen.
“That’s the food,” Rowan says, sitting up. I feel the start of our bond pulse with a wave of reassurance he’s trying to push towards me. “Nothing scary, I promise.”
“Thank you,” I say, flashing him a grateful smile.
