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I let a few minutes pass and when he goes to take a sip of water I place my hand on his jeans, right over his dick. I stroke it and he starts to choke.
“You okay?” Noah asks him.
“I’m fine,” he replies, and I can’t help the laugh that bursts from me at how high his voice has become. I find his zipper, easing it down slowly.
I smile triumphantly when his hand closes around my wrist stopping me.
“Don’t even think about it,” he whispers under his breath. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mia.”
“You started it,” I remind him, barely moving my lips.
He releases my hand and I go back to eating my second roll—carbs are life.
His knife drops on the floor and he bends to retrieve it.
I jolt in my seat when he caresses my leg before sitting up once more.
This is going to be the longest dinner of both of our lives. I’m sure of it.
* * *
An hour later, I’m hot and bothered—Hollis more so—as I clear the table, bringing the dishes to the kitchen.
The rule is the guys have to wash and dry everything. Once I drop the last of the cutlery in the sink, I dash out of there as fast as I can. I know Hollis won’t do anything in front of everyone, but my God I can’t even look at him right now without wanting to combust.
Addie heads upstairs to her room and I join my mom in the family room.
She curls her legs under her, her hair the same shade as mine pulled back in a low bun. A few stray hairs fall over her face. I’ve always thought she was beautiful, and I hope I look as enchanting as her when I’m her age.
She rests her elbow on the back of the couch and her head in her hand.
“That Hollis is a good looking guy,” she remarks.
“He’s okay I guess,” I lie.
She smiles knowingly. “How long?”
I look over my shoulder and back at her with panic in my eyes. “You can’t tell Dad.”
“I won’t.” She raises her hands innocently.
I give her a look.
“I won’t,” she reiterates. “Believe me honey, there’s a lot I haven’t told your father over the years.”
I raise a brow. “Really?”
“Are you kidding me? He’s way too overprotective. If he had his way I’d never leave the house.”
We both laugh.
“So, how long?” she asks again.
“About two months,” I say. “Less if you’re asking when it became official.”
“I haven’t heard the best things about him,” she admits. “But I also know how the media can be.”
“It seems pretty accurate where he’s concerned,” I sigh. “He admits to it, but he’s different with me. We talk. About deep things. Personal things. It’s not like we have sex and that’s it. We’re … a couple. God, it’s weird to say but true.”
