Chapter 7 #2
“This fucking woman,” Logan grumbles, glaring at her. “She wouldn’t recognise danger if it slapped her in the face.”
“I know what part of your anatomy I’d like slapping my face,” she replies with a chuckle.
Logan takes a step forward as though he’s about to lunge at her.
“You stay right there,” I warn, holding my hand up and shoving Henrietta behind me at the same time.
Of course, she refuses to stay put, proving Logan right as she nudges me to the side and plants a hand on her hip.
“Oh, stop it. Don’t pretend you weren’t enjoying yourself.”
“You call that enjoyable?” he asks, shaking his head. “You were talking so much I could barely hear myself think.”
“Correction, you were playing hard to get, and I was thoroughly enjoying teasing you,” she throws back, taking a step towards him. Unbelievably, he steps back.
“Get. Her. Out. Of. Here.”
“Come on, Henrietta. It’s time to go,” I say, tugging on her arm.
“But I was just getting started,” she says, fluttering her lashes at Logan, who grinds his teeth so hard I swear I can hear a tooth crack. Even if she’s unbothered by his anger, I sure as hell don’t want to see what happens when he finally snaps.
“This is not a game you should be playing, and especially not with me,” Logan grinds out.
“That’s enough, Logan. Go outside and cool down,” Dorian says, stepping into the hallway behind us.
“Gladly,” Logan snaps, storming towards a door at the end of the corridor with a neon exit sign hanging above it. He slams his palm against the door, cursing under his breath as he leaves.
“He’s totally in love with me,” Henrietta says, swooning a little.
“I warned you. Henrietta is very good at getting under people’s skin,” I say, rounding on Dorian.
“She’s not the only one,” he replies, dropping me a heated stare that only serves to remind me he just denied me an orgasm.
“Okay. I’m done with this tonight. Let’s go, Henrietta.”
“What about dessert? I was rather looking forward to it.”
“I’ve already had mine,” Dorian says, his lips jerking up in a cocky smile I have the urge to slap off his face.
Henrietta huffs, folding her arms across her chest. “You ate dessert without me? Well, that’s just rude.”
Dorian lifts his finger to his lips and trails it across his mouth. “Actually, I just had a taste, and I can tell you it was delicious—”
“Say another word and I’ll sock you one,” I snap.
Henrietta picks up on the not-so-subtle hints Dorian’s dropping and she grins, poking me in the side.
“Oh, girl. Finally, you’re having some fun.”
“Oh, shut up,” I retort, dragging her past Dorian and back into the restaurant.
“Please tell me you rode that man’s hand until you—”
“I swear, Henrietta, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to hand you over to Logan and let him do whatever the hell he wants to you,” I hiss, shoving open the door of the restaurant and stepping outside.
“Well, if you put it that way.”
I glare at her and she laughs, but her smile drops when tears prick my eyes and fall down my cheeks.
“Shit, Edie. What the hell?”
I blink them back, more surprised they appeared than she is. “Ignore me. I’m fine,” I say, swiping at my face to get rid of the evidence. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“Did Dorian hurt you? Because if he did, I’ll bloody—”
“No. He didn’t hurt me,” I quickly respond, stepping in her way so she doesn’t storm back into the restaurant and unleash her wrath on Dorian.
“Then why are you so upset?”
“I’m not upset.”
“You’re crying.”
“I am not crying,” I protest.
“What’s wrong?” Dorian asks, stepping out of the restaurant. His timing is impeccable.
“You upset Edie, dickhead,” Henrietta shouts, moving in front of me as Dorian attempts to get closer.
“What in the world are you doing now?” Logan exclaims, appearing around the side of the building right at that exact moment. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Logan, please escort Henrietta to the car.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Henrietta retorts, folding her arms across her chest and drilling her gaze at Dorian.
“Henrietta, it’s okay. This is just a misunderstanding.”
A flush of heat creeps over my body, partly with embarrassment, and partly because my body has a wicked sense of humour and has decided to remind me at this exact bloody moment that I’m a forty-four-year-old woman in the midst of a hormonal flux.
Hot flashes and tears, a recipe for disaster. Could this night get any worse?
“I just want to talk with Edie alone. Please, go with Logan.”
She nods, her anger quickly dissipating as she wanders over to Logan, her hips swaying seductively.
“If you want her to remain—” Logan begins, but Dorian gives him a sharp look.
“I said, take Henrietta to the car, and for fuck sake, get a hold of yourself.”
“Fine,” he agrees rather reluctantly. “Let’s give them a moment alone. Shall we?”
“Anyone would think you can’t get enough of me,” Henrietta teases, taking this opportunity to, yet again, slide her arm through his. A moment later, Logan’s opening the door to the car, and they both slip inside.
“I’m not sure that was wise,” I say as the door slams shut.
“Logan won’t hurt her.”
“At this point, I’m not entirely sure who’d win if they got into a fight.”
“Trust me, he likes her.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Just tell me what’s upset you, and then we’ll join them,” he replies, edging closer to me.
“I’m not upset,” I say, leveling my gaze with his.
“Don’t lie to me, Edie. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
“You really want to know?”
“I really want to know.”
“You denied me an orgasm, and it pissed me off,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
He cocks his head to the side. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing to me? I thought this was our thing, teasing each other, exerting control, denying pleasure. Or have I read this completely wrong?”
“Yes… no.” I huff out a breath. “I don’t know.” I say, except I do know.
“Talk to me.”
“That’s what I’m doing, you infuriating man,” I reply, stalling, not for his sake, but for mine. I waft my hand over my face, trying and failing to cool myself down.
“Are you okay? Do you feel unwell?”
He steps closer, pressing the back of his hand against my forehead. It’s surprisingly cool, and for a moment I allow myself to lean into his touch. Then, remembering myself, I grip his wrist, removing it. “Hot flashes. Comes with the territory.”
“I’m sorry?” His brows pinch together with confusion.
“I’m forty-four.”
“And?”