“We only keep him around for the food,” adds Vincent.
Rory leans back, stretching his arms and grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “People gotta eat.”
Something rubs my foot, and I lower my brows.
“Seth, quit playing footsie with mi’Lass.” Rory elbows him. “Eat yer eggs.”
Seth winks at me. I roll my eyes.
“Who taught you to cook?” I ask Rory, noting how the others straighten, their eyes flicking to him.
He stiffens, then leans back, his jaw hardening. “My Gran.” Grandmother. I want to ask where she is now, what she would think of him, but I pick up on the tension. Better not to probe.
He even followed through with the fresh-squeezed orange juice. “Any decent coffee here?” I ask.
“I’ll make some after breakfast,” Rory offers.
“Don’t forget your Scotch,” Vincent mutters.
I lift my brows, and Rory waves a dismissive hand. “Coffee’s best when spiked.”
Hmm…That gives me an idea.
“So, you can cook, Red,” I point out, waving my strawberry-covered fork at him. “Can you bake?”
“Oh, lawwwd!” Seth says with a clump of waffle in his mouth. “You should try his scones.”
Yes, the perfect idea comes to me. When Jude ventured to the bathroom closet to add another bandage, I caught a glimpse of something…something diabolical I could use.
Cupping my chin, I lean far to my left, getting closer to the redhead across from me. He lifts a brow, but his lips tug into a smirk beneath his short beard.
It’s infuriating how good he looks being so damn smug. Dastardly, utterly villainous, but magnetic in a way that makes my pulse jump. Not seductive like Jude, who lures with whispers and silk. No, Rory doesn’t lure you in. Youcrashinto him, and by the time you realize your mistake, it’s too late. He’s already got you.
I imagine him slamming me against the wall, breath hot against my throat, his beard scraping over every inch of myskin like an intense burn. Hands rough and commanding. No coaxing, no teasing—just raw and merciless. The way his lips curl tells me heknowsexactly what I’m thinking.
Smug bastard.
“See something ye like, Lass?” he goads me, pushing up just enough from his chair to invade my space, his hot breath ghosting over my lips.
The others stare at us. The raw tension is so thick, it gets me wet. But the idea of revenge? Yeah, that gets me wetter.
I grin, setting my plan in motion. “I’d like it more if I saw you on your knees begging for forgiveness when I wipe the floor with you in a bake-off.”
A fork drops. But I don’t flinch or look away from the man before me. Seth whistles long and slow. At first, Rory merely smiles…until he tilts his head, his smile growing into a knavish grin. “Sure you want to go at it with me, Lass? There beotherways ye can bring me to my knees.”
“Scared?”
His brows screw low. A second later, he grips my throat.
Vincent gets to his feet, but Raphael raises his hand, stopping him. Because Rory’s fingers aren’t digging in. No, for once, he’s touching me in a way I’ve never felt. His fingers are tender, caressing my skin. My belly should not be somersaulting right now.
When his lips rub my jawline, it takes everything in me not to whimper. But I still betray myself, swallowing hard beneath his hand. “If I win, Firecracker,” he purrs near my ear, “ye’ll be on yer knees for the next five days at every meal, waiting for me to feed you. Buck fucking naked.”
Even if I lose, it’ll be worth it.
“Done.”
He slams his mouth against mine, devouring, feeding, taking. I guess that seals the deal.
