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There was one benefit to him persisting in so boldly touching her. Keenan looked like he wanted to explode. Yeah, well, she’d felt the same way when he wouldn’t stop playing cupid with the others.
The small talk came to an abrupt end when, finally, Jolene entered the room with plates of food. In no time at all, everyone was gathered around the table, eating and talking and drinking. And Larkin thankfully got a breather from Teague’s touchy-feely ways.
“How is your clan doing?” Jolene asked him at one point.
Once he’d finished chomping down a mouthful of steak, he replied, “They’re good.”
“I’ll box up some leftovers for you to take home for them. They’re growing boys after all.” Jolene sniffed. “And too skinny.”
A snort popped out of Khloë. “They’re all packed with muscle.”
“They are indeed,” Martina said with a somewhat dreamy smile. Moving her gaze to Teague, she bit her lip. “So, how’s Leo?”
Ciaran frowned at his aunt. “I thought you had a thing for Slade.”
Martina grinned at him. “Sweetie, I have a thing for them all. But there’s just something about the way Leo looks when he’s cracking open a vault . . . My body has no defenses against it.”
Teague’s lips quirked. “He has a thing for you, too, if it helps.”
Martina’s grin widened. “Oh, it helps.” She cut her gaze to Larkin. “I take it you’ve met the boys.”
“Once or twice,” she lied.
Teague looked at her and tucked a stray hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear. “You were a hit with them. I think you were more taken with the dogs than you were my clan.” He lightly skimmed his fingertip along the shell of her ear and down to the lobe.
Larkin almost blinked in surprise. You have dogs? He’d never mentioned them before.
Five, he replied.
Her focus was yanked from the psychic conversation as flames burst around Asher’s plastic cup. The fire quickly died down, showing that the drink had disappeared. A small fire roared to life in the kid’s hand, and then there was his cup.
Larkin smiled. She couldn’t believe that the pyroporting little dude was four years old. The time had flown by.
“Ah, shoot,” muttered Martina, grimacing at one of her red acrylic nails. “The tip snapped.”
“I got you covered,” announced Heidi, producing a designer purse seemingly out of nowhere. A purse that didn’t look like one a kid would own. She unzipped it, fished out a tiny nail file, and then passed it to her aunt.
Martina responded with a bright smile. “Thanks, honey.”
Harper squinted at the young imp. “Where did you get the purse, Heidi-ho?”
She gave an innocent blink. “I found it.”
Stole it, more like.
Asher got to his knees on his chair, wearing his adorable dimply smile. “Daddy, I want to go outside and play.”
Knox flicked a look at the kid’s half-empty plate. “You haven’t finished your dinner.”
With a small burst of fire, every piece of food on Asher’s plate vanished.
Still smiling, the little boy lifted his hands, palms out. “See, all gone.”
Harper’s gaze slid to the ceiling. “I can’t with this kid.”
Giggling, he pressed a sloppy kiss to his mom’s cheek. She responded by blowing raspberries all over his face.
Larkin would have chuckled at the sight, but then Teague rested his hand on her knee beneath the table. Her pulse jumped. The ass apparently meant to step things up, and that was not whatsoever good.
CHAPTER FIVE
Larkin drew in a breath through her nose. Okay, PDA was one thing when it was a matter of them ‘performing’. This was different. And not acceptable.
She almost snarled. Move it or I’ll snap it off.
He glided his hand up her thigh.
Teague, she reprimanded.
He shot her a quick look of complete innocence. You said move it, I moved it.
God, he was such a shit.
She rolled her shoulders. Fine. If he wanted to play games, they could play games.
Larkin took a tip from her demon’s book and sent him an explicit telepathic image. One of her fisting his cock right here at the table. She heard him quietly suck in a breath. Ha.
His mind brushed hers, buzzing with amusement. Ho, ho, ho, my harpy plays dirty.
The word ‘my’ should not have made her belly clench.
An image shoved its way into her mind. An image of her propped on the table with his face between her legs.
Her core spasmed. Not to be outdone, she telepathed him another explicit image. And as conversation continued around the table and people finished their meals, the mind-to-mind exchange of seriously graphic pictures between her and Teague went on and on.
Removing his offending hand from her thigh, he draped his arm over the back of her chair and grazed her ear with his lips. You’re wet. I can smell it.
Damn his hellbeast-enhanced sense of smell. Fighting a blush, she discreetly cupped his dick. And you’re hard, so we’re even. He was also as well-endowed as he’d claimed.
