“I don’t blush.”
“Course not,” I murmur, biting back a grin. And pressing the meat of my palm to her lower back. “Nice?”
Ryan bites her lip, her expression part pleasured, part pained. But then she slides me a look that seems to say,I know your game.
“I think it’s nice.”
“Stop with the tone,” she half whispers, half warns.
“And stop this?” I ask, pressing harder now.
She bites back a groan, and my grin breaks free.
“Don’t be too pleased with yourself,” she protests. “It’s a symptom of this pregnancy. Pink cheeks too.”
“Nothing to do with my magic hands?”
“It’s hormonal fluctuations and increased blood flow.”
I make a low noise. Part inquiry, parttell me more.
“Stop that!” Her blush deepens as her eyes dart away. Though her smile is so wide it’s as if I just reached out and tickled her.
“Maybe I should be the one blushing, because you say thesexiestthings.”
“Hogwash!”
“Stop,” I purr. “You’re giving me increased blood flow myself!”
“Ohmygod.” She slides a lock of hair behind her ear, her words running together as she ducks her head. “You are the worst.”
She might be right.
The worst kind of fool for her.
The food is grand and the whiskey even better. I order a steak, and Ryan has pasta, though we end up sharing our plates. The evening passes in a blur of friendship and laughter. Which, of course, includes embarrassing stories.
“No, no, no,” Mila says, waving her hand as she laughs. “It isn’t Stockholm syndrome. Is it?” Glancing her husband’s way, she takes his face in her hand.
Fin bends to meet her lips with his. “I mean, we were both stuck on an island.”
“And high on shrooms,” Evie puts in. “Maybe what should be worrying you is how he practically stalked you when you got back to London.”
“No,” Fin says, all seriousness. “I didn’t stalk her. It was more like a little friendly ... blackmail. Technically, if you want to blame anyone, blame him,” Fin says, throwing the accusation my way.
“Thank me, more like.”
“What did you do?” Ryan asks, glancing up at me.
“He told me to readBridgerton,” Fin answers for me.
“Bollocks!” I scoff. “Get back to the topic of blackmail.”
“No,” Fin retorts. “Love deserves a sacrifice—that’s what I learned from romance books. That or a diabolical plan.”
“Diabolical?” Evie sends a sly glance Oliver’s way. His answer is to take her hand and press a kiss to the back of it.
“Come on, Evie.” Mila giggles. “Don’t be mad. The man did buy you a menagerie.”
