Page 44 of Shadowed Whispers

It would be so easy to close the distance, to taste her lips and steal her breath. I want to. Oh, how I want to.

We have a small issue sitting across from us, and I already know Leo doesn’t want me to kill him.

Her big, beautiful eyes blink up at me, the hazel reminding me of a hot summer day. Her entire body relaxes under my gaze, under my touch, and she breathes easier.

Good girl.

“Hmm,” she hums as though thinking about it. “Rain check.” Winking, she turns back to Bishop and mutters some bullshit I’m not listening to.

Instead, I observe her. Words are just meaningless chatter, white noise to cast into the background, but actions? Now that is where the interesting information comes in—like following a small woman home from the bar.

I have no regrets.

“Go on,” he says, leaning on the table. “Or aren’t you dating?”

He’s challenging her again.

I’m going to hurt him, and it’s going to feel amazing.

“I don’t owe you proof of anything,” Frankie retorts, going toe-to-toe with him, and the way she stands her ground is absolutely fucking delicious. Her eyes never waver as she stares him down.

It’s hot as hell.

“My seed is still inside you, firefly,” he taunts her. Eventually, she will snap, yet I feel the energy zapping between them, back and forth. There’s more here than just lust.

“Who the fuck cares?” she snaps just as the waitress sets all our food on the tabletop. Luckily, they shut the hell up and mind their manners until she moves away.

Annoyed by this entire discussion, I turn to Leo because I am not addressing this gnat. “What would her coming on my hand prove?”

Frankie almost spits out her milkshake, but I focus on Leo. His eyes do that slow, lazy roll from me to Frankie. “I think he wants her all to himself and hasn’t learned to share.”

“Share?” she squeaks.

I let my palm slide up her leg until my hand wraps around her lower thigh. She’s so small, I can wrap my whole hand around her leg.

“Please, I share just fine,” Bishop protests.

I ignore him. “So making a woman orgasm is a right of ownership?” I question and slowly turn to Bishop. “Do I have that right?”

“No,” Frankie answers, speaking up for herself.

I squeeze her thigh in appreciation and to make sure she knows I’m not ignoring her.

“I made her orgasm, so yes, she’s mine.” He sits back, smug as fuck.

Too bad he misinterpreted me.

Leo turns in his seat. He’s blocking the aisle, his large body perfectly shielding Frankie. “Consent.”

Dipping my head down, I whisper just to Frankie. “Do you want to come?”

“What?” She nearly chokes on her fry.

She’s adorable. My adorable gothic gem.

“What?” Bishop doesn’t look so smug now, does he?

“Tell me right now if you want my hand to creep any higher.” My hand slowly inches up her leg.

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