Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(141)

I picked mine up and held the cool stem between my fingers, watching the tiny lines of bubbles rising magnificently through the deep golden liquid.

“To us,” Jackson offered, giving me a wink.

“To our partnership,” Declan added.

“To all of us,” I sing-songed, hoping that my words split the difference between them. Whatever kind of silent argument they had going on, it seemed to be far from over.

The champagne burst to life on my tongue at the first sip, practically turning instantly into a cool, fruit vapor. I almost wanted to giggle at the sensation.

“OK, that’s different,” I said breathlessly.

“Hm, yes,” Declan agreed. “Gorgeous.”

I took another sip, pausing for a moment to roll the liquid around my mouth. It was such a complex flavor, it was practically visual.

“I swear I can almost see what this takes like,” I said, then chuckled at the absurdity. “OK, that was a goofy thing to say, sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” Jackson said, tipping the flute back and taking a hearty gulp. I watched his throat muscles working efficiently as he swallowed, tempted to lick his neck from top to bottom. “It’s an amazing bottle. The grapes are grown in about an acre and a half in France in a walled garden. Very picturesque. I could take you sometime.”

I giggled abruptly, then wondered if I was drunk already. “You could?”

“Of course,” he said, crinkling his cheeks in a finely chiseled smile. “Anywhere you like.”

“Can we go sip chocolate out of crystal skulls in Peru?”

“I’m sure I can arrange it,” he grinned.

“OK… wait, can we discover a new alien language in the pyramids in Egypt?”

“I’ll have my people get started,” he said with a lazy, raised-eyebrow sigh.

“Wait, no! Don’t let them get too far, I hate having people unwrap my presents for me!” I objected through my giggles. I could feel a hiccup tightening in my chest. But his sky-blue eyes had me pinned, helpless and happy. Even if I wanted to start acting sane, I didn’t think I could pull it off.

“We can go look for artifacts anywhere you want,” he reassured me, sending out waves of affection with his bright white smile. “Just say the word.”

“OK, yeah, after I’m done with her,” Declan interrupted.

“Ignore him,” Jackson said slyly. “He has no vision for discovery.”

“Really?” I said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I thought he was the acquisitive one. The ‘collector.’”

“Hey!” I heard Declan say from far away.

Jackson nodded and lowered his voice playfully. “Oh, he is, truly. But I sense you’re an explorer at heart, Margot. Like me.”

“Am I?” I giggled helplessly. I found the idea thoroughly flattering.

“Absolutely. An explorer, a witness… In love with the world, with history… Aching to feel a part of it all… Knowing you don’t have to own things to love them…”

“Oh!” I said, suddenly flinching as the truth of his words shot through me like tiny darts. “Yes that’s right!” I gulped, half amazed that he could see that in me.

He nodded again, his smile becoming more brilliant with each passing moment. I felt dizzy and unmoored, as though I was falling into his space.

“Everything I own knows I love it very much,” Declan drawled as he refilled my glass.

“Oh but it’s not about you, Dec,” Jackson said, releasing me from his gaze and straightening in his chair. I nearly fell forward into the void that created and felt remarkably colder from the sudden absence of his presence.

“Not about me?” Declan repeated with a smirk. “Are you sure? Well… OK let’s make it about our lady of the hour then. Margot… Are you planning to tease me all day with those legs?”

“Um…” I started, “tease you?”

He sat back and raised his champagne flute to his lips, his blonde hair just sweeping over his eyes, hooding them slightly.

“I keep trying to not look but…” His gaze dove to my toes then climbed slowly up my shins to my knees. I could feel his eyes tracking over my skin as though he was touching me, and a shiver ran all through me like an electrical current.

As his eyes explored my kneecaps I luxuriated in the electrical, champagne-flavored buzz. Slowly I opened my knees just a touch, reveling in the intense look of interest he shot that exposed inch of inner thigh.

“They’re just legs, Declan,” I demurred.

“If they were just legs, I wouldn’t want them,” he growled.

He sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees and steepling his fingers.