Not to mention, everyone would know if they started having sex. He didn’t fancy having to explain to Cam how he’d essentially tricked Daryl into a potential bond.
As Daryl’s hand closed around his forearm, grip firm and reassuring, Jason sighed. He had to tell Daryl the truth or keep his hands to himself later.
The outcome was likely to be the same either way.
Daryl leaned against him, steering him towards a table. A wave of his scent hit Jason full force and he let out a growl of frustration.
This was going to be torture.
WHETHER IT WAS his imagination or not, Jason spent the whole of dinner feeling the weight of everyone’s gazes. They’d sat with Rachel and Jenn again, and although it was natural for them to look at him as they spoke, it unnerved him not to be able to see them in return.
The scrape of cutlery caught Jason’s attention.
“It’s cottage pie,” Daryl informed him. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Jason licked his lips in anticipation. Nerves warred with hunger, and he had no idea whether he’d actually be able to eat anything or not.
His heart rate increased, palms sweaty where they rested on his thighs, and the moment seemed to stretch out forever.
“Open your mouth.” The words were so softly spoken, it took a second for them to register.
Jason complied, pulse loud in his ears as his lips parted.
A mix of meat and potato hit his tongue—warm and rich in flavour—and Jason moaned without thinking.
Silence seemed to settle around him, then Rachel’s muttered, “Mine doesn’t taste that good,” had him blushing again.
He sensed Daryl grinning at him, though he couldn’t be sure, and had to fight the urge to reach up and touch his mouth.
Did he feel like this?
Somehow he couldn’t imagine Daryl wanting to touch his face to see if he was smiling.
He managed to get through the rest of the meal without making any more embarrassing noises, but he’d experienced a low level of arousal ever since Daryl put the blindfold over his eyes. Was it enough for others to detect? Initially he’d thought not—he couldn’t smell it himself—but maybe he was wrong. Maybe that was why everyone was staring at him.
Could Daryl smell it?
Jason fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable. For something to do, he slowly moved his hand across the table searching for his water glass. A warm hand closed around his, and his heart stuttered.
“Here.” Daryl pushed the glass against Jason’s palm and curled his fingers around it. “I’ll be back in a minute. Ask Rach or Jenn if you need anything.”
“Okay.” He heard and felt Daryl get up from the table, instinct making him turn his head to track him.
The clearing of a throat caught his attention. “Everything okay, Jase?” Rachel asked.
With Daryl gone, maybe he could ask the question—or one of them anyway—that’d been bugging him. Hoping they didn’t laugh at him, he leaned over the table in what he hoped was the right direction. “Is anyone listening,” he whispered.
Silence.
He pictured Jenn and Rachel looking around at the other tables.
“Some,” Rachel answered, voice as low as Jason’s. “Behind though.”
Right, so they wouldn’t be able to see his mouth. Hoping either Jenn or Rachel was good at lip reading, he swallowed his dignity and mouthed, “Do I smell of—” He waved a hand in the vague direction of his cock and prayed they got the hint. Judging by the muffled laughter, he guessed they did.
Heat flooded his cheeks. “Well?” he prompted, wanting to get this over with before Daryl returned.
“Not really.”
