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Laughing, I opened my mouth and took another bite.
“You trying to get killed?” Gage asked as he walked into the room from the kitchen.
Kye smirked. “This might be worth it.”
Gage laughed and shook his head. “You’re getting too cocky. Remember who you’re messing with.”
Kye rolled his eyes and grinned at me.
Trinity walked in with a pitcher of margaritas and glasses, then set them on the bar. “Aspen, you want one? The guys will drink beer or whiskey. I thought I’d fix us something better.”
“Yes, thank you,” I replied.
Kye reached for another appetizer. This time, it was something fried, but I wasn’t sure what.
“You can have the first bite,” he told me, holding it to my mouth.
I took a bite and was relieved it was cheese.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Levi’s angry voice startled me.
“He’s feeding her,” Gage replied, sounding entirely too amused.
Levi’s scowl made me nervous.
“It was my fault,” I told him. “I asked for a bite.”
He shifted his gaze to me, not looking thrilled with me now. Great.
“Thanks, but I’m not letting you take the blame for something I did. He doesn’t scare me,” Kye said.
“Then, you’re a fucking idiot,” Gage drawled. “Maybe we need to let his hotheaded ass loose on one of our trips since you’ve never experienced it.”
Levi’s scowl shifted to Gage. “Shut up,” he bit out, then grabbed a beer from the bar and walked over to sit down on the other side of me.
He hadn’t sat this close to me the last time. I wasn’t going to complain. His hand wrapped around my thigh, and he pulled my leg over his and held it there.
I stared at him, wide-eyed.
“Got a touch of caveman. That’s fucking hilarious to see,” Gage said.
Levi ignored him and took another drink from his bottle.
“I’d feed you some more, but he might toss you over his shoulder and leave the room. Want me to fix you a plate?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Levi said through clenched teeth.
I wasn’t sure if I was excited or worried or maybe turned on. This wasn’t the first time Levi had been possessive, but this was the first time he’d taken my leg and draped it over him. It had an ownership feel to it that I liked, unfortunately. Irish would tell me to get a backbone. I wasn’t Irish.
His gaze dropped to mine, and the hard line of his mouth softened, but he didn’t smile.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“What did I tell you about apologizing?” He sounded annoyed.
I didn’t say any more and decided to study my hands in my lap. He was so confusing, and I wished I could ask him to explain his reactions to me.
“Are you hungry?” he asked me in a gentler tone.
