“I think this is what we had last time,” Bridget said, wrinkling her nose. “Oh wait, my mistake. Last time we had burritos from that place at the bottom of the hill.”
“I could see how you’d mix that up,” I nodded.
Bridget sighed and plucked a small tomato from the bowl, popping it in her mouth. I watched her chew out of the corner of my eye as I placed my napkin in my lap. Choking to death would be exactly the sort of drama she would think up. Everybody else underestimates just how diabolical she is really willing to be. Not me.
“Oh, hey,” Declan said to Anneka, “I think your drink is still at the bar.”
He stood and walked behind Bridget to cross the living room. I watched Bridget inspecting his ass muscles clenching in his dark-washed jeans.
“Even his feet are sexy!” she whimpered.
“So what kind of crab is ‘dungeness,’ anybody know?” I yelled out over her, and lifted my fork with a rigid smile.
As the dinner progressed, my nervousness dissipated. Declan began talking to Bridget about some sculpture he’d bought from her years ago, and Anneka began telling Kevin about Holland’s extensive dam history. Jackson kept one knee against mine under the table, and every so often he stroked the inside of my calf.
This was nice. It was urbane. And it felt sort of delicious to have such a naughty secret under my dress.
“This is really nice,” Jackson said affably.
I nodded. “I was just thinking that.”
Mike came in with the dinner course held grandly in front of him. “Lamb with a sweet cherry reduction and potatoes Anna,” he intoned smoothly.
As the dishes were set before each person, everyone congratulated him on a beautiful plate. The peppery, deeply savory aroma wafted into my face and was almost satisfying by itself. I’d never smelled anything so good.
Even Bridget shoveled it down with gusto. Usually she expressed her disdain for my cooking by pinching off tiny pieces of bread all night while her dinner cooled on her plate like a museum specimen. But tonight she had even eaten the curling pea shoots without a complaint. I felt like I’d won something. Watching her flirting coquettishly with Declan, rolling her eyes like a silent movie star, I could see she had worked up a stellar appetite.
“Oh, poo,” she whined. “The malbec is gone.”
“I think Mike paired a syrah for the dinner course,” Declan suggested gently.
“But… Malbec,” she said as though his words made no sense.
“I have more in the cellar,” I replied automatically. I didn’t want anything to spoil her evening.
Jackson immediately stood as well. “Let me help carry,” he offered.
“You’re a peach,” I smiled. “Back in a jiff!”
Jackson followed me to the kitchen and I walked as modestly sexy as I could, feeling his eyes on my thighs. We avoided Mike’s pointed glare about daring to bring wine to the table and I led Jackson around the back wall, through the butler’s pantry that led to the cellar.
“It’s just there,” I said, gesturing to the cellar entrance.
Suddenly he was pressed up behind me, his face in my hair and his hands on my hips. I bit back a gasp as he pulled my ass onto the front of his jeans, already rigid with his erection.
Silently, he leaned down and mouthed my neck, hard, with his lips over his teeth. I marveled at his cleverness. That wouldn’t leave a mark.
He pushed me toward the bathroom and we walked there together. I was breathless with fear and excitement. He pushed me gently toward the sink and spun me around so my ass rested on the edge, closing the door behind him.
“Jackson, there are like nine people behind that wall!” I whispered, but my body was already on fire.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, brushing my hair back from my face and staring into me. He raised my chin to kiss me but I held up my hand.
“Lipstick,” I explained apologetically. The last thing I wanted was for us both to be wearing ruby red when we went back to the party.
He nodded, grinning slyly. “I have to kiss you,” he said, and slid his hand down the back of my thigh to my knee, then he raised my knee and hooked it over his hip. I leaned back on the sink.
“I want you to kiss me,” I said in a plaintive whisper. “But if we don’t get Bridget her wine she will start giving Anneka fashion advice or something.”
“No,” he shook his head with a smirk. His eyes danced. “Now.”
I almost started to object when he suddenly fell to his knees in front of me, draping my leg over his shoulder. I bit my lip, hard, as he dove straight for the crotch of my lace thong, mouthing my swollen, wet lips through the fabric.