He raises his eyebrows in response, flicking his attention up to his brother before twitching his chin in a subtle negative.
Emboldened by the knowledge that Fox is nowhere near his limit with me, I continue, “You know fun, Fox? That thing that people have in moderation? Particularly at parties, like the one we’re at now? You’ve heard of that before, right?”
We both know he has. His years off sowing his wild oats orwhateverprove that. Since he’s been home, though? Dud. Total freakingdud.
“I know what fun is, kit,” he growls. “What I don’t know is why you insist on playing withmewhen there are plenty of people here who would actually want to be around you.”
I grimace, and even Wolfe flinches.
Fox curses again. “That’s not what I meant.”
“The words that came out of your mouth and have limited possible interpretations—that limit being one—are not what you meant?” I ask, nose scrunched.
“There’s more than one interpretation,” he claims.
I roll my eyes. “Enlighten the class, then. We’d be thrilled to hear you plead your case.”
His fingers dig into my sides, not quite on the wrong side of bruising.
My stomach dips, my attraction to the infuriating man betraying me as stupid little butterflies take off even as he isactively insulting me.
Bodies are stupid.
“Fox,” Wolfe warns, scrutiny sharp on his brother’s hands. “She’s little.”
Fox and I both protest that.
“She’s not fragile,” he grunts. “And she’s not trying to get away from me. She’s fine.”
“I am notlittle,” I gasp, firmly ignoring my body’s dumb, dumb, dumb reaction to hot man hands touching it in order to address a much more pressing issue. Priorities matter, after all. “I’m nearly average height!”
“Many women wouldn’t struggle when a man a foot taller than them and significantly stronger has them in an uncomfortable position. It doesn’t make it okay.”
“Many women are notPoem,” Fox replies. “I’ve not crossed any of her boundaries.”
“I’ll have you know, five-two is a perfectly reasonable height to be. It’s not my fault you all are giants.”
My hands land on my hips, directly below Fox’s grip on me.
Our fingers brush.
The butterflies threaten to take hold of my attention, despite the very real threat to my average height reputation.
Seriously. Bodies. Are. Stupid.
“You’re insulting her, cursing at her, looming over her, and your hands on her are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping,” Wolfe points out. “I can’t imagine that would be a comfortable position for any woman.”
“Expand your imagination, then,” Fox suggests. “And, while you’re at it, butt out of my relationship with Poem. If she has an issue, she’ll tell me, loud and clear. She doesn’t need some big bad white knight coming in to save her fromme.”
“Rudegiants,” I mutter. “Who think they can call me little and then ignore me while they have a whole conversation about me as if I am not standing right here, able to speak for myself.”
Wolfe’s focus shifts to me, and he frowns. “I’m sorry, Poem. You’re right. You are right here and able to speak for yourself. I meant no offense, only to help in a situation where a lot of women wouldn’t feel able to do such a thing.”
How very see something, do something of him.
“I appreciate that,” I reply. “And if it were any man but Fox, I’d be kissing your feet for being my ‘big bad white knight’. However. ItisFox, and I’ve got no problem making it clear when I have a problem with the way he’s treating me. If I have an issue, I’ll say so.”
Wolfe nods his understanding as Fox’s flutter-inducing fingers twitch and his chest pulses against my back.
