Page 14 of The Sweetest Revenge

She smoothed her already-perfect hair. "Of course, you can, dear. I just wanted to do something nice."

I shook my head and forced a smile. "Great." I didn't have time to argue if I was going to be dressed and downstairs before Zaiden got home. "I'll be down for dinner in a few."

I took the stairs two at a time and burst into my bedroom. The lock clicked into place behind me, not that it mattered in this house. Last night's bathroom incident had proven that much.

My gaze landed on the dress my mother had left.

"This is what we wear to dinner?" I shook my head. The dress was beautiful, but it belonged on a beach date, not a family dinner.

It was a short white summer dress with a lacy V-neck top and spaghetti straps. I snatched the dress off the bed, a pair of sandals, and a white lace thong and bolted for the shower.

It took me exactly seventeen minutes to shower, dress, do my hair, add a little bit of makeup, and race down the stairs, and I managed to do it all without interruption from Zaiden. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I squared my shoulders with a grin, feeling like I'd won a round. It sounded stupid, but I'd take even the smallest win right now.

I strolled through the living room and stopped in the entranceway to the large dining room. My gaze landed on Zaiden standing next to the eight-person mahogany dining table with only four of the eight chairs around it.

Fuck.

That meant Mommy dearest already had our seats picked out, and I was almost positive mine would be next to Zaiden.

Zaiden stood in black joggers and a white WBU Predators hoodie, casual, like he'd walked in from practice. So my mother only dictated my wardrobe. Great.

His eyes found mine.

I tried to look away. Failed. His greyish-blue gaze held me for a beat, then dropped, raking over me with deliberate slowness.

He licked his lips.

Like he was starving.

Like I was his snack.

He stepped forward but stopped when my mother appeared from the kitchen. "Oh good, you're here," my mother smiled, setting a water pitcher on the table. "You and Zaiden will sit there." She pointed to two chairs side by side, directly across from where my mother and Dennis would be sitting.

He obviously didn't want to cause a scene in front of our parents, so I thought I was safe through dinner anyway. I stepped forward, wrapping my hands around the outside of the chair as my mother disappeared back into the kitchen.

The heat of Zaiden's firm body surrounded me as he pressed his front to my back, and I froze when his hands curled around my hips. His masculine scent wrapped around me, and I breathed him in. "You look like you want to be bent over this table and thoroughly fucked," he whispered against my ear.

"I do," I smirked, pulling my chair out and bumping him off me. "Just not by you." Sliding around the chair, I sank into the seat, pretending to be completely unfazed by him.

"Is that so?" He slid into the chair beside me, one eyebrow arched, mouth curling into a dangerous grin. "Do you have someone in mind?"

"Someone whocanfuck me thoroughly." I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. "So I guess anyone other thanyouwould do."

A low laugh rumbled from his chest. "That sounded like a challenge, baby girl."

I rolled my eyes as I reached for the water glass.

"Keep your hands on the table tonight." The command came out in a rushed whisper.

My gaze snapped to his. "Where else would I?—"

"Dinner is ready!" My mother appeared in the doorway, her smile fixed in place. "Dennis?" She leaned toward the living room, her voice sharpening. "Dennis?"

Zaiden's father appeared from the living room entrance into the dining room and slid into his seat without looking up from his phone. Dennis was significantly older than my father. He was tall like Zaiden and had similar facial features, but his hair was salt and pepper with more salt than pepper.

Everyone passed around the decorative ceramic dishes, loading their plate with food before taking the next one. My mother was a terrible cook, but there was one thing she'd always made well because it was something that she and my grandmother made once a week: pot roast with mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. It was the only meal she made that was edible.

"This is so nice, isn't it?” My mother paused for effect. "Having the whole family together in one room."

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