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He exhaled heavily in resignation. “Right.”
“So could I,” said Larkin.
He arched a challenging brow at her and pushed off the rail. “Yeah?” Crossing to her, he leaned over and gripped the back of her seat, practically curling his body over hers. His eyes held hers as his psyche bumped her own, and then his voice flowed into her mind. You’d let me kiss you, touch you? Because that’s what I’d do.
Larkin forced a blasé shrug. It would look weird to people if you didn’t.
She just hoped he never sensed that her act wasn’t really an act; that she wanted him more than she’d wanted anyone in a very long time; that her demon would quite simply like to ravish him.
A dare glittered in those hazel eyes. “I say we make this more interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“If either of us calls it quits before the five months are up, they have to sing on the karaoke at one of the Underground bars, and they have to do it naked.”
Larkin felt her face scrunch up. “What? Why does there have to be a wager? And why did your mind even leap to ‘naked singing’?”
“Hey, if you’re not confident that you can win, that’s fine, we could skip the wager,” he offered, all innocence.
“I don’t worry that I’ll lose—”
“Then it’s all good.” He held out a hand. “We on?” It was clear that he expected her to balk at that and back out . . . which was the point of the wager, she realized. He was trying to pressure her into scrapping the whole thing.
As if Larkin would be so easily manipulated.
She shook his hand. “We’re on.”
The glass door once more slid open.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” demanded Tanner.
Larkin slid her gaze the hellhound’s way, finding him eyeing her and Teague with suspicion. The male who was curled over her didn’t straighten or release her hand. In fact, he gave her hand a little squeeze. She returned her focus to Teague only to see that he was staring down at her with a serious look on his face.
“Do you want to tell everyone, or should I?” he asked. “I’ve told you, Lark, I’m tired of being a secret.”
Oh, hell.
“What does he mean, Larkin?” Tanner asked, wary.
A pinch of humor briefly flashed in Teague’s gaze as he continued to stare down at her. Well, are we gonna do this or not? It’s okay if you’d rather back out while you still can.
She squinted slightly. He clearly thought she wouldn’t be able to pull this off; thought she’d stammer and blush and be so unconvincing that the others wouldn’t buy it.
He really should have given her more credit.
Teague almost chuckled at the brief glimmer of anger he saw in the depths of her eyes. Poking at a harpy wasn’t much different from taunting a rabid dog. Most people would likely swerve it, but he liked flirting with danger. Always had.
And this particular harpy was very dangerous. She had a reputation for being as pitiless and unforgiving as she was fearless. He could believe it.
Larkin was as cuddly as shattered glass. She could be rude and bitchy and standoffish. As if she saw no point in making a real effort with those outside her circle because she felt no need or desire to expand it. So, of course, he had fun trying to push his way into that circle. It was healthy to have hobbies.
He watched as a mask slipped over her stunning face. Her eyes warmed. The set of her jaw softened. Her mouth was no longer a flat line of annoyance—it smoothed out, regaining its usual lush shape.
She let out a long sigh and then nodded. “You’re right. It’s time we stopped hiding this; let’s tell them.”
Teague’s brows almost flicked up in surprise at how convincing that looked and sounded. It would be interesting to see if she could keep it up when she had to stare directly into the eyes of those she cared for and lie her phenomenal ass off.
He straightened and tugged gently on her hand. “Then let’s do this.”
She stood, squared her shoulders, and turned to Tanner. “We’ll talk inside.”
The sentinel’s wolfish gaze darted from her to Teague. “I’m not going to like this. I just know I’m not.” He retreated back into the VIP box, followed closely by Piper and Khloë.
Teague didn’t release Larkin’s hand. He kept possession of it as they trailed behind the others. This element of their deal—that he could touch her, hold her, kiss her—he’d for sure enjoy. Any male would.
She was built like an Amazon. Tall, strong, toned, round hips. Her maple-brown braid was long and sleek and intricately woven. He wanted to see all that hair free of ties and raining down her back. Her mouth . . . he’d had all sorts of fantasies about just what he could do with it.
