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Clover snorts. “That’s a can of spiders I never want to open.”
“Worms. A can of worms,” I tell him.
Clover gives me a cute frown. “Why wouldn’t I want to open that? Worms are harmless.”
I chuckle, hearing Michael do the same.
“You’re absolutely right, Clover.” Michael tells him, while I grab a wet cloth from the edge of the sink and move close to Clover.
Some honey from the cookie he’s holding drips on the counter between his spread legs. How can a guy so agile and light-footed be this messy? He’s getting all sticky.
Rague chooses that moment to walk in. He’s holding at least five bags in each hand and his gaze focuses quickly on us—specifically on my hand between Clover’s thighs. His jaw ticks. Not a good sign. He only does that when he’s horny—which is very improbable at the moment—or pissed off. But I can’t find it in me to care. I have conflicting emotions inside me. I can’t stop myself from feeling hurt and pathetically hopeful.
He drops the bags at the entrance, and in three strides, he’s on me. I open my mouth to give him a snarky retort with maybe a hint of vitriol—but his big arms lift me, and he kisses me. Not a light peck, but a full-on, claiming, whole-tongue kiss. And I cannot resist. His musky smell, rough manhandling, and hard body against me, it’s the devil’s ultimate combination.
When he pulls his head back, I’m out of breath. I hear a whistle, which reminds me there’re other people with us. And I realize that my legs have wrapped themselves around Rague’s waist at some point and that we are standing near the dining table now. Five feet away from the island where Clover is rolling his eyes, not even a little intimidated by Rague. It seems nothing intimidates the little guy.
“I got it, he’s yours,” he tells Rague. My body turns rigid, remembering Clover’s earlier words and that damn phone call. “Stop the jealous shit. Ollie’s not even my type.”
“Hey! I’m everybody’s type.” I sound affronted, and I am. Even though Rague is using me to get information on Lenny…probably. Most likely.
“Not when your huge boyfriend is ready to incinerate whoever stands within a seven-foot radius of you.” Clover hops down off the island like a graceful cat and goes to wash his sticky hands at the kitchen sink.
“Boyfriend?” Michael repeats.
“Rague just sucked his face off. That guy is definitely his,” Raph huffs annoyedly.
Thatguyis me, right? Again the wordboyfriend.I just acknowledged that I have feelings for him and he probably doesn’t feel the same about me.
I drop my legs from Rague’s waist and try to take a step back, but his arms are like steel poles around me. I glance up, but his eyes are focused on Clover.
“Ten feet,” he growls, pulling me even closer to him. “Ten-foot radius.”
Damn. I like it. This crazy possessiveness of his. I want it. But I remind myself that he lied to me, if not about the way he feels about me, about everything else.
“Let me go,” I breathe on his chest and squeeze my grip on his biceps.
He doesn’t. I know he heard me because he stiffens against me.
“Rague, let me go,” I repeat, putting more conviction in my voice.
So very slowly, he obliges, and I can finally take a few steps back. I don’t like the sudden distance, and from the look of his balled-up hands and the throbbing vein on his forehead, Rague doesn’t either. But I need to have a clear mind when we talk.
“I didn’t find anything in Lenny’s office. I still took pictures and sent them to Rami. I also planted a couple of bugs. You have ears now.”
Rague doesn’t stop Clover from revealing their schemes. He just grunts, but his searching gaze is on me, probably trying to read my reaction. I keep my face blank, but I know my eyes are betraying my emotions.
Is he a PI? Who does he work for? Raph and Michael don’t seem surprised by any of this. Are they involved, too? Fuck, I need answers.
“Next time, let me find some good snacks, or I’ll stop my house calls,” Clover complains while heading for the front door. No goodbye, then.
“We all wish you’d stop those house calls,” Raph grumbles.
Michael’s eyes go from me to Raph, before he jumps off his fiancé’s lap and pulls him toward the door. “We are going, as well. Ollie, a pleasure. Rague…good luck.”
The click of the front lock lets us know we are alone now.
“Are you an undercover cop or something?” I cut straight to the chase.
