“We do not eat our guests,” he chides, tugging the goat back by its leather collar.
Biscuits blinks at him, then turns and does these silly little leap-kicks on his way to a bush instead.
Maddox appears too engrossed by the list in his large,callousedhands to notice my gawking.
Heavens above, am I actually attracted to Maddox Finch?
Surely not. It’s one thing to find him attractive, but another entirely to be attractedtohim. I’m smarter than this; I will not fall for a man who is emotionally unavailable.
By the time he glances up, I’ve composed myself once more. “I need to ask about this one as well. Number eight.”
Eight? I could’ve sworn I only wrote seven items on the list. Perhaps I miscounted. Heaven knows there was enough alcohol in my system for that sort of mistake.
He drags his thick finger along the bottom of the page. “Make sure she finishes first.”
Oh no.
No. No.No.
Tell me I didn’t accidentally add one of Kerris’s ridiculous suggestions to the list I gave this man. The one about large hands would’ve been a hundred times more preferable to this one.
“Finishes what?” Maddox asks, his gaze imploring and head tilted, making his dark hair fall over his cheek. “Dinner? I am a very fast eater. What if she is very slow and I am very hungry?”
If only the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
“I think maybe you should ask Everett that question.” It is good advice butnotthe sort I had planned on handing out.
Maddox’s teeth scrape his lower lip. “The king is very busy with more important matters.”
That’s probably true. But how am I supposed to speak about something so intimate when he’s looking at me like that and my stomach won’t stop tripping and flipping and fluttering?
Come on, Nia. Get ahold of yourself.
We’re both adults, aren’t we? Mating is a natural act, nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll say it straight out, and then he can use the information how he pleases.
Or, more accurately, how his Unseelie woman pleases.
“It’s not about dinner, Maddox. It involves the act of mating,” I manage to say without bursting into flames. Barely. “When it’s . . . um . . . coming to a conclusion. When itfinishes.”
I swear I can see the wheels of his mind turning and the exact moment when my words finally click.
His eyes widen. “You mean when the male spills his seed?”
Add that to the list of things I did not expect to hear Maddox Finch say today.
“Gryffin says to be sure not to spill inside the female unless you wish to become a father.”
It sounds like Gryffin is the one he should be speaking to about this. Not me.
Gripping my skirts, I force out a breath in an attempt to keep my response from giving away the tension coiling low in my belly.
If he can speak so plainly, then so can I. “Women can experience the same pleasure.” If I survive this conversation, I deserve extra dessert. “Have the women you’ve been with not mentioned this?”
The tips of his ears darken beneath his earrings, and he glances down at the grass beneath us, his sharp teeth dragging along his lower lip. “Oh, yes. They have all spilled many seeds. I was only confused about the word you used. ‘Finish.’” He taps his temple with a quick nod. “It did not translate into my own language.”
I don’t believe for a second that this is about the language barrier. He’s never had difficulty understanding me before.
There must be more to this story. “Maddox? Have you mated with anyone?”
