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“Behave.” Henry’s murmur felt like a vibration against her ear, turning her on without meaning to. She wondered what that mouth would feel like on her skin, and chugged down her cup to erase the image away.
“No,” she said stubbornly.
But she had to eat her words when an hour later, their topics had turned astray and Henry’s firm tone had softened to a dreamy state.
“Are you okay?” she whispered when Pampei excused himself for a bit.
“Hmm.”
The listless answer and that soft tone had her staring suspiciously.
“You’re drunk,” she accused.
“Just buzzed.”
“That was just a few drinks.”
“I don’t drink much, so I have a low tolerance. And we can’t use magic here.”
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. Then she couldn’t help watching him as Pampei returned and the two got to chatting again like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. The night went on. Pippa retired to bed at some point while Pearl stopped drinking to watch over the two. At some point, Pampei said something that made Henry laugh—not just any laugh but a burst of loud, boisterous laughter that rang in the air and slid right into her bones with its open amusement. The yearning to make him laugh like that quaked inside her.
He's your acquaintance, Pearl. Just your acquaintance. There’s no need to make him laugh.
Pampei was looking at her again.
“Miss Sutton?”
“Pearl,” she corrected automatically.
“Pearl, when was your last man?”
Her brow rose. The supposedly drunk Henry turned rigid.
“Mr. Magoo—”
Before Henry’s change of mood could freeze the room, Pearl placed a hand on his arm.
“He’s just questioning the validity of our love story, sweetheart, which is understandable,” she mused, squeezing his arm in a warning, and hiding her shudder from the influx of energy that thrummed on his skin. She took it a step further and brushed her mouth over his jawline—to sell their relationship was her reasoning. But she didn’t count on it clenching and his fingers digging into her lower back. Alarm blazed when she lost her balance and her hand landed on his thigh to steady herself. Her brain stuttered when she felt the full length of his leg on her palm and she realized one thing: Sophie was right. Henry had the thickest thighs…
Like a tree. Ready to be climbed.Then,Focus.
Aware they had become unnaturally quiet, Pearl cleared her throat and forced her gaze to look at Pampei evenly. “If you must know, it was months ago. Four months ago, to be exact.”
Pampei opened his mouth to follow up, but Henry beat him to it.
“Four months ago? You were always flirting with someone at the bar.”
Pearl stared at Henry. He stared back. Belatedly, it registered that their faces were inches from each other.
“Flirting does not equate to sleeping,” she pointed out, her voice trickling out in a whisper. “I’ve been celibate.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t felt sparks. I haven’t…”
“What?”
“Felt it.”
