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“Which vegetable are we going to make into a dessert?” So far, I hadn’t seen anything that would work for that.
“Here.” He pulled out a double handful of berries. Assorted types but all big and beautiful. “Like them?”
“I like you.” I felt daring flirting like that. “Almost as much as the berries.”
His laughter washed over me, warming me to my core. “Well, I’m glad to be right up there below fruit.”
We continued to flirt back and forth, cutting up the veggies for the ratatouille, mixing the batter for the cobbler, and taking every opportunity to touch one another in passing. He guided my hand as I cut the onions, and I rested mine on his forearm when asking a question. We’d done a little of that before, but somehow I felt freer now, even rising on tiptoe to kiss his cheek after we tasted the result of all that cutting and chopping. I’d never been a giggler, so when the sounds emanated from my mouth, I clapped my hand over it.
“No, don’t do that.” He gently uncovered my lips. “I love hearing you laugh. You don’t do it nearly often enough, which I take as a failure on my part. Let’s set the table before the others get back. We’ll surprise them with a feast.”
“Are you sure they’ll be back?” I’d hate to have this all go to waste. We’d tucked a lot of things in the refrigerator for tomorrow or the next day, but we’d made a huge pan of veggies and the cobbler would serve ten.
“I told them we were cooking.” He stirred the vegetable stew then bent and drew in a breath of the fragrance. “So good.” Picking up a spoon, he scooped some up and held it out. “Taste?”
I leaned in, my eyes closed, and parted my lips. But instead of a spoonful of ratatouille, the next thing I felt was his lips on mine. And it was even better. My arms looped around his neck. His hands cupped my bottom as he lifted me against his body. At some point, he must have set the spoon down, I thought vaguely before giving myself up to his kiss.
His body was solid muscle, and I craved more, closer contact…
But before we could get any closer, or nakeder, the door opened to admit the other two royals, and I jumped back as if caught doing something wrong.
“Don’t let us interrupt,” Nico joked. “But we were promised food.”
“Of course.” I pulled back and turned toward the pot. “We have so much food.” From behind me, I could feel Jude’s stare, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to kiss him, to kiss all of them, but kissing one in front of the others?
Not quite yet.
Chapter Five
The others cleaned up after dinner. Nico and Soren. I couldn’t entirely wrap my mind around the fact they did that, or why. But no sooner did I put my fork down than Jude took my hand and led me away from the table while the other two bustled around stacking plates and clanking silverware.
Usually, when we cooked, Jude and I, we straightened up a bit then left the rest for the lessers assigned to our apartment. I had stopped protesting after about the twelfth time. He would look so puzzled at my suggestion that we wash the dishes or wipe off the counters. I never even dared to use the word “sweep.” Royals simply did not clean. And their mates did not, either. Or so I’d figured out.
And yet, while my fingers were linked with Jude’s, I could hear water running in the sink and Soren asking Nico where we kept the dish detergent. Cabinets banged while they, presumably, hunted for the liquid, and before Jude’s bedroom door closed behind us, the crash of at least one dish added to the cacophony.
He guided me against the door and let his grip slide down to my hips, studying me intently. Apparently, I was supposed to do or say something.
“They’re doing the dishes?”
His frown told me that was not what he was expecting me to say. “Yes, they offered.”
“Why?”
“So we could be alone.” Dropping his forehead to mine, he smiled. “Wasn’t that nice of them?”
“They’ve never…they don’t…I need to go help them find the soap.” Because the air in here was getting too thick to breathe. “You have to let me move away from the door to do that.”
“Mmm.” He glided his hands around to my bottom and lifted my on my toes, face-to-face with him and, after another shift, the hardness in his groin pressed into me. “No, I’m not going to let you go out there and do housework. It’s time, mate.”
“T-time?” A fine shiver ran over my skin, raising goose bumps in its wake. “For…”
A sigh whooshed from him. “You’re innocent but not naive. We’re alone in my room, I’m kneading your ass, and I’m”—he lifted me higher, and my legs wrapped around his hips as if of their own accord—“I’m so hard for you, I’m about to burst.”
“But they’re right out there. What if they hear something?”
His low chuckle raised even more goose flesh on my arms and legs. “They’re making enough noise to bring security. But if they do hear, so what? They are your mates, too, and they will have their turn.”
“How did you decide you would be first?”
