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“They’ve seen laps.”

Niko cups his hands around his mouth. “For the record, I support women’s right to choose chairs.”

“Keep chirping,” I tell him, “and you’ll be photographed in a coffin.”

The room laughs, but Lilah does not. Pink climbs from her chest into her cheeks, and fuck, that’s a good look on her.

“There’s space behind Vera,” she says.

“There’s space here.”

“You are enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

Her eyes narrow. Then she crosses the room with her mouth screwed up tight. Everyone suddenly finds something else to be interested in.

She gathers her skirt, then slowly lowers herself onto my leg with most of her weight held away from me.

Ridiculous.

I hook an arm around her waist and pull her fully down.

“Comfortable?” I murmur.

“No.”

“Pity. I am.”

Her hand clamps down on my shoulder for balance. Beneath the silk, her body is warm and lush against me. The room returns to motion in cautious increments.

Niko positions the camera and prepares to hit the self-timer button. “Try to look less like you’re negotiating a hostage release.”

“I am a hostage,” Lilah mumbles.

I move my hand from Lilah’s waist to her hip. Her body shifts against me, and my cock hardens beneath her ass.

She feels it and gasps, just as Niko calls for us to look forward.

I don’t.

At the flash, Lilah is glaring at me, her mouth fighting a smile. I am looking at her like the rest of the room has ceased to exist.

For me, it has.

She slips out toward the kitchen as soon as the photos are done.

I give her thirty seconds.

Then I follow.

She’s standing at the sink with her hands braced on the edge of it. When she hears me come in, she speaks without turning around.

“That wasn’t funny,” she snaps.

She turns. There’s flour on the front of the apron and her hair is coming down out of its arrangement. Her mouth is set in a hard line that isn’t fooling either of us.

“Is everything you do designed to make me lose my balance?”