Page 117 of The Black Table
Oh. Oh my God.
My pulse races even as my rational mind kicks in.
No,my brain chides me.There’s no way. It can’t be…that.
And thereisno way, right? These guys have…a vow. A whole thing.
They don’t…do that.
Right?
As I stand frozen, the growls turn to words. Thick and choked, breathing heavy.
“Yeah.Yeah. That’s it…”
I shouldn’t be listening. But I am. I can’t help it. More heat is flooding my body, pooling in my belly and lower, deeper, and I’m powerless to stop my gaze from drifting to where I now realize it’s coming from.
The left, to the living room.
And—oh God.
Two bodies. Pressed close, tangled together. Mouths fused, hands skimming,kissing, desperate and intense.
Lanz and Callahan.
Stunned, I step back, trying to get back, slip out as quietly as I came, when my bag hits the floor with a thud.
And then I’m exposed.
Lanz, on top, swivels to me first, his bright eyes blown wide.
“Oh,” he says, “Gwenna.”
He lifts back, his shirt half-buttoned, sweeping a hand through his hair, visibly frazzled, trying to stammer what must be an explanation, while Callahan sits up: his face blank, his jaw tight, his eyes anywhere but meeting mine.
A chill follows the heat under my skin as the full realization of what I’ve witnessed takes over me.
“I didn’t…I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I’m sorry. I—you?—”
I don’t know if I’m addressing Lanz or Callahan or both of them, but it’s Lanz who speaks first.
“You’re…back from class early.” He looks at me, desperate, almost frantic, but then, more intently, at Callahan.
Like he’s checking that he’s okay.
“I’m…”
Lanz gulps in a breath, sits back on his heels a little, his posture awkward enough to make me realizeoh my God, he’s hard..
Jesus. Of course he is, Gwenna. They’re…this is…
“They don’t know.”
Callahan. Simple, strong. Yet his eyes on me aren’t angry.
Only…soft. Neutral, at worst.
Almost…pleading.
