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Okay, most of the time.
Aiden clears his throat but remains silent.
It’s Elsa who grins like a proud mama. “He cooks the best food ever.”
“Maybe he can cook something for the family dinner next time.” Jonathan is speaking to Aiden, but he stares at me over the rim of his glass, and I pretend I’m not the subject of his attention.
“Only if Levi does,” Aiden says.
“Make it a competition, then.” Jonathan takes a sip of his wine. “Aurora and I will be judges.”
Elsa points her glass of wine at herself. “How about me?”
“Your and Astrid’s votes aren’t subjective. You’re forbidden from voting.”
She appears disappointed, but she touches her husband’s bicep. “I’m sure Aiden will win.”
“We’ll see.”
I’m about to reprimand Jonathan for being his usual aloof self, but the sadistic spark in Aiden’s eyes stops me. He likes the challenge his father is throwing his and Levi’s way.
The King men surely think differently. It’s like they bond over battles and wars.
As a confirmation to my theory, after dinner, Aiden does the dishes, then sits with Jonathan around a coffee table on which there’s a glass chessboard. It’s similar to the one at home, where Jonathan has taught me how to play.
Or tried to, anyway. I usually end up straddling his lap or splayed all over the chessboard as he fucks me.
I fight the flush that covers my skin but fail. Thank God for the wine; otherwise, my arousal would be clear.
Both Jonathan and Aiden’s poses are similar, their grey eyes sharpened as they think of ways to bring the other down.
As Elsa and I finish our no-idea-how-many glass of wine, my attention is robbed by Jonathan’s pure masculine beauty. He leans both elbows on his knees and forms a steeple at his chin with his fingers. Those long fingers that I can’t stop staring at — or at him.
It takes them both a long time to make a move because, I assume, they calculate like hell before attempting it. When Jonathan slides a piece forwards, he’s so sure and confident. There’s no question that he’ll win. Aiden might pose a threat, but it’s still too early for him to beat his father.
That doesn’t stop the younger King from trying, though. He grew up to be a force not to be trifled with.
Be proud, Alicia. Your boy is now a man.
“They’re so alike,” Elsa whispers from beside me. We’re snuggled on the sofa opposite them, sharing a soft blanket.
“I know,” I murmur back. “Does Jonathan always come over to play with Aiden?”
“We’ve been living here for fifteen months, and this is the first time Jonathan has stepped foot into our house. I thought he’d never come over, so thank you for bringing him. I know it means a lot to Aiden.”
“I didn’t bring him.”
“Yes, you did.” She grins and it appears child-like, considering her drunken state. “Told you. You’re the colours in his life.”
Am I, though?
After all, he’s been disappointed in me since last night. Even the alcohol isn’t able to make me forget about that part.
We watch them some more as we talk about university and the differences between my experience of it and hers.
When my eyes droop, Elsa leads me upstairs and into the guest room I changed my clothes in earlier.
There’s a bed, a half-empty antique wardrobe, and a tall side lamp. It’s simple, beautiful, and cosy.
