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I lean in and take it, but she doesn’t pull the fork away immediately. Her eyes drop to my mouth before returning to mine, and the warmth that has been building quietly between us shifts. I feel it in the way her knee remains pressed against my thigh and in the sudden awareness that we’re sitting close enough for me to see the tiny movement of her throat when she swallows.

Calliope sets the fork down as I reach for a piece of roasted potato with my fingers and hold it between us. Her eyes follow my hand before lifting to my face, and she leans toward me to take the bite, her lips brushing my fingertips. When I brush my thumb across the corner of her mouth where a trace of sauce remains, her lips part beneath the touch. The same mouth I’ve been trying not to kiss since she walked through my door is suddenly under my thumb, and whatever restraint got me through dinner won’t survive the way she’s looking at me now.

Leaning toward her slowly, I leave enough space for her to close the last inch or leave it between us. Calliope’s eyes stay on mine until I’m close enough to feel her breath, then her hand slides around the back of my neck and pulls me in. Her mouth meets mine, wiping out every version of this kiss I’ve imagined since seeing her again in Charlotte.

I know what kissing her feels like—the softness of her lips and the way she tilts her head when she wants me closer—but none of that accounts for knowing her now. Her name appears on my phone throughout the day. She knows when I’m hurting before I tell her, and she sat beside me tonight, listening as I talked about thirty minutes of practice like there was nowhere else she needed to be. My hand slides into the braids at the back of her head as I kiss her deeper because there’s nothing anonymous left between us to hide inside.

Calliope makes a soft sound against my mouth and shifts closer on the stool, her knee pressing more firmly against my thigh. I turn toward her, trying to get closer without breaking the kiss, until the angle becomes awkward enough that she laughs against my mouth, and I feel the curve of her smile beneath mine.

“What?”

“You’re trying to climb across the island.”

“I’m considering my options.”

Her eyes drop to my mouth again, and I’m already leaning back toward her when she reaches past me instead. I follow her hand to my plate, wondering what the hell she could want from dinner now, but she doesn’t take another piece of chicken. She drags one fingertip slowly through the sauce left behind and lifts her hand between us.

I expect her to bring it to her own mouth. Instead, her eyes meet mine as she holds her finger out to me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

Chapter Twenty

Calliope

Jubal catches my wrist and brings my hand toward his mouth without taking his eyes off mine. The confidence I had when I dragged my finger through the sauce lasts right until his lips close around my fingertip. Whatever reaction I thought I was going to get out of him disappears as he takes his time tasting what I offered, his gaze holding mine while heat rushes beneath my skin. When there’s nothing left, he still doesn’t release me, fingers resting over my pulse like he can feel exactly how much our game is affecting me.

“Is that what you wanted?”

I swallow and try for something resembling the look I gave him before he put my finger in his mouth. “Maybe.”

“Try again.”

My eyes narrow, but pulling my hand away would be an admission I’m not willing to make when I’m the one who started this. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

My breath catches as his praise slides beneath every bit of confidence I had when I held my finger out to him. I heard those words from him in Houston when everything between us was anonymous, but this is Jubal looking at me like he remembers exactly how they affected me and has every intention of using that knowledge. He’s saying good girl to Calliope Quinn now, and my body answers him just as quickly as it did when our names didn’t matter.

His attention stays fixed on my face long enough that I know he saw all of it before releasing my wrist. My eyes lock on his hand as he reaches for the spoon beside his plate, gathering the bit of sauce that remains before holding it between us.

“Open for me.”

I should make him work harder for it after the smug way he made me admit what I wanted, but that thought loses most of its conviction when I see the expectation in his eyes. I want to know what happens next more than I want to win, so I hold his gaze and slowly open my mouth for him.

“That’s my good girl.”

Heat spreads through me as he brings the spoon to my mouth. I take what he gives me without looking away, and the satisfaction that moves across his face makes me want to push him again. He sets the spoon beside his plate and leans toward me, and I meet him halfway.

The kiss gives the sauce back to him as his hand closes around the back of my neck, and I fist the front of his shirt when his tongue catches the sweetness still lingering on mine. I pull him closer, already wanting more before the kiss gives it to me.

As soon as he draws back, I reach for the spoon, ready to turn his own game against him, but Jubal catches my hand before I get there and drags his fingertip through the sauce left on my plate instead.

“My turn.”

I go still when he brings his hand to my mouth and traces my lower lip, leaving the smallest taste behind. The smug satisfaction on his face makes me want to wipe it away, so I let my tongue follow the path his finger took and watch his expression change when he realizes I won’t make this easy for him either. His attention drops to my mouth before returning to my eyes, and the tightening of his jaw gives me exactly the reaction I wanted.

“Look at me, Pea.”

I lift my eyes fully to his and keep them there as I close my lips around his fingertip. This time, there’s no pretending I don’t know what I’m doing to him. The sound that catches low in his throat sends a curl of satisfaction through me, especially when his jaw tightens like he’s trying not to give me anything else.