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Chapter Eight
The guy is freakin’ huge! More so, as I’m sitting. It makes me feel small and...breakable. Deliciously, wonderfully breakable.
I’m staring. I know I am. I think I may actually be drooling this time. Shit, Jas, say something!
“Ex-excuse me?” I stammer, eyes wide.
“If you’re leaving to have sex with anyone, it’s going to be me.”
My mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out. I look like I’m playing charades and masquerading as a guppy. Fuck my life.
“Mind if I join you sweetheart?” he asks. Does he mean in bed—because that was just a joke—or at the table?
“At the table,” he clarifies while I just stare at him, mute.
“Aww, I think our Jasmine has a little crush!” Linden laughs. I shoot death rays at him with my eyes but he’s oblivious. Maybe I should use a hex on him that will make his nose hairs grow uncontrollably. Into his mouth.
The four guys size each other up for a moment before falling into easy chat about their time in Silver Springs, their work, hobbies and interests. I’m happy to sit and listen to their surprisingly easy banter, but I have to wonder why no-one is addressing the elephant in the room.
“You okay, Jas?” Rowan asks gently.
“Yeah, I was just wondering…”
“Yeah…” he prompts.
“Well, obviously you and your brother are fae…” I hedge.
“Oh! She wants to know what we are, not who we are as people,” Linden crows.
“That hurts,” the bouncer grumbles.
“Indeed. I’m wounded.” Ash clutches his chest like I just shot him but he’s smiling good naturedly. “And you know what I am. I told you; I’m a Fennec Fox.”
“Shifter?” I confirm.
“Shifter.” I knew he was, but I’m glad he clarified.
“And...you?” I ask the bouncer, suddenly embarrassed not to know his name.
“You don’t even know my name and you’re asking all kinds of personal questions, Little Miss.” He tuts, shaking his head.
“Well they asked me all sorts of personal questions right away!” I exclaim defensively.
“Like what?” Bouncer-boy raises an eyebrow, and I realize I’ve put my foot in it. I don’t want to elaborate.
“What’s your name?”
“Oakley. Oak,” his deep baritone rumbles. I swear I feel it in my chest. And other places further south. I squirm a little on the seat.
“And you are…?” I prompt gently.
“I’ll show you,” he growls.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then the temperature in the room rises. And rises. And rises. I fan myself, not instantly making the connection. I remove my denim jacket and have a drink. Oakley smirks.
That’s when I feel it. Not the heat...well, yes the heat, but a different kind of heat. I feel it much further south, a tingling...almost burning…sensation. But it’s delicious, not painful, and it leaves me wanting more.
“Dance, sweetheart?” Oakley offers, holding out his hand. I stare into his aquamarine eyes, mesmerized. I nod, take his proffered hand and allow him to pull me up. As soon as I’m on my feet he pulls me in close against him and every line and plane of his body is rock solid muscle, harder than any mineral I’ve ever worked with. He towers over me, my entire hand lost in his grip, his other hand spanning the width of my back as he begins to twirl me around the dance floor with an effortless grace that surprises me considering his size.
