Page 20 of Crushing Clover

Maybe I could lull them into a sense of complacency then disappear.

“Will you tell me what everyone likes?”

He shook his head. “You’ll figure it out. Try not to take it personally when we blow up at you—especially Saint John. He still has a lot of pent-up anger where Arabella is concerned.”

“Oh. That’s not just his personality?”

He swallowed a grin. “Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?”

“A woman has to be, especially in this day and age.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but chivalry is dead.”

“Chivalry never existed in the first place, unless you happened to be rich and had the means to enforce it.” His tone was flat, as though he knew all about that. “Come on.”

He led me back into the main room, where Saint John was sprawled on the couch with Lucky on his knees in front of him.

I froze in place, watching in fascination as Lucky gave him the sexiest, sloppiest blowjob I’d ever witnessed, complete with eye contact. Heat spread through my core, turning me into a needy, desperate mess.

Hell—had I moaned?

“Should I have warned you?” Rush asked quietly.

I pulled my gaze away to look up at him.

“No. It’s just hot.” I chuckled self-consciously, embarrassed at being caught gawking.

“Watch if you want to, but you might want to refrain from joining in—at least until Saint stops wanting to murder you.”

Saint’s entire body stiffened with his impending release, the muscles in his neck corded and his lower abs flexed impressively. Lucky’s hand was wandering up under Saint’s shirt, sliding over muscle.

“Never watched two men together before?”

“Not in person.” I shrugged as he led me to the kitchen. “In movies.”

“Porn?”

“No. Romantic movies.”

He lifted me onto one of the high stools at the kitchen island, as though I were too short to manage on my own, then started pulling food out of the refrigerator. First came vegetables, then fresh herbs, and a package of meat.

He was going to cook actual food? What was the occasion?

He got busy washing vegetables and then chopping. I did my best to focus on what he was doing, even though I really wanted to turn around to watch what was happening behind me.

Was Saint John making noises of pleasure, or was Lucky gasping for air?

I shivered and shifted where I sat. Unfortunately, I must not have been as subtle as I thought because Rush slanted me a look.

“Not used to being left wanting?”

I shrugged, not answering. My sexual history was none of his business. “I’m still not used to people having sex where I can hear them.”

“That chair swivels if you want to watch. If they wanted privacy, they would have taken it elsewhere.”

Someone—I assumed Saint John—hissed. It was followed by a gagging sound, and I had to force myself not to whip my head around to catch the finale.

I didn’t turn to peek when they were done, or when I could hear them moving down the hall.

Rush continued chopping ingredients I didn’t recognize, let alone know the name for, and I leaned on the counter, resting my head on my hand. The way he handled a knife was terrifying. It was also strangely beautiful, like a dance.

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