My stomach rumbles on cue. I’ve been so preoccupied with “other things” that I haven’t noticed.
“I hope you like white wine.” Harpoc sits up, then wipes his hands on a cloth napkin, picks up the bottle and pours me a glass.
“Fulfilling my every desire, I see.”
Heat smolders in those beautiful eyes of his, making me more jittery.
But he doesn’t comment, just sets my glass down on the small table between the chairs, beside the tray brimming with sliced meats and cheeses, pickles, fresh strawberries, honey, and more.
Oh, boy.
He’s moved his coat to the sofa, and I plop down in the now-empty chair, fold my legs up under me, and eye the feast.
“Looks amazing.”
He uses his fingers to grab several walnuts and pops them in his mouth.
“I can get into fingers.”
Harpoc grins broadly, barely stifling a laugh.
I feel my cheeks flush. “That’s… that’s not what I meant…” Or maybe it is.
“I promised that we’d resume our previous conversation, but it seems you’ve beaten me to it.” He crows.
“No… I didn’t…” It’s pointless to defend when my face burns. I scrunch up my nose.
He reaches over and tweaks it. “I know what you meant. It’s just fun to watch you blush.”
I swat his hand, then grab a slice of salami and wash it down with a gulp of wine.
“Careful there, or you’ll be drunk in no time.”
I down two mozzarella balls.
Once we polish off the charcuterie board, Harpoc reveals a plate of baklava he stowed in the empty drawer of the nightstand, to great fanfare by me.
I promptly scarf down three of the six pieces, then eat a fourth at Harpoc’s insistence.
“Ready for that dip?” Harpoc asks.
Two glasses of wine have made me relax, and the dance floor in my stomach has emptied. I take Harpoc’s proffered hand and stand, then follow him to the sliding glass doors.
“The air’s a bit chilly, but the water’s warm.” Harpoc reaches for the belt of his robe, pulls it open, then tosses it on the sofa beside the door.
Oh lordy, but the dance floor in my stomach fills up fast. A quickstep this time.
His muscled chest is clean, not a hair in sight. The tattoo I saw peeking out from his robe is a rose with its stem in an infinity pattern. A swirl of shadow wraps around part.
“That’s beautiful.”
He looks down at his tattoo. “Thank you.”
“Does it mean anything or did you just like the design?”
“Some of both.” He smiles. Clearly there’s a story, but he isn’t going to share it. Surprise, surprise.
He slides the patio door open and a rush of cold air hits me, distracting me from probing.
I bite my lip. Shed my robe or not?
Like ripping off a Band-Aid, Pell.
I follow suit, tossing my robe on top of his, feeling like a snail without its shell.
His eyes travel from my face, down my pubescent chest and abdomen, down to my narrow hips. He frowns when he catches sight of my colorful thighs and slides the door closed again. “Pell…”
I want to hide from his scrutiny, but there’s no out, and my heart starts to race.
“Sit.” He points to the sofa.
I comply, watching his every twitch as he kneels before me in that not-much-there suit of his. My breath hitches.
“Sit back.”
My back brushes the overlarge pillows of the sofa we dumped our robes on, and I hug myself. I trust him. I do, but oh god, what’s he going to do?
“Easy there, Pell.” A corner of his mouth quirks up.
His focus drops to my bruises, and he leans forward, then reaches out and places a hand on my right thigh. I swear wherever he touches tingles.
Breathe, Pell.
Force of will alone keeps me still as I gaze at his wavy onyx hair atop his bent head. I inhale, and warmth spreads to my lady bits. I long to run my hands through those locks.
Don’t do it, Pell.
He moves to my left thigh, then on to my knee, and my heart practically beats out of my chest.
Calm down, Pell, before you have a coronary.
At length, he sits back on his haunches and catches my gaze. “All better.”
My brain is a bowl of Jell-O, and I can’t find words.
“Look.” He nods toward my legs.
I follow his gaze and my eyes go wide. “You… You can heal, too?”
My thighs and knee have returned to their normal pasty pale. “Thank… Thank you.”
He chuckles, extending a hand, and helps me up.
Does he know what he’s doing to me?
I wanted to go with the flow and be spontaneous for once. I hadn’t anticipated that Harpoc’s “flow’’ might just wash me out to sea because, in this moment, I’m adrift, in way over my head with a guy who’s making me feel things I’ve never felt before. I’ve no idea what to do, much less think.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I shriek as I emerge from the room, holding myself. Why, oh why, did I agree to take a dip?
Really, Pell? You love sap, you. I can practically see my alter ego rolling her eyes.
Shush.
Harpoc laughs, sliding the door shut, as I scuttle for the pool steps.
Please be warm, please be warm.
I reach the steps and dip a toe in to find the water bathwater temperature. Lack-of-Grace helps submerge me fully as I slip on a step in my haste and come up sputtering.
Harpoc is beside me in an instant. “Are you okay?”
I nod, coughing. Mortified.
He shakes his head, grinning.
What must he be thinking?
“Shall we?” He nods to the right, toward the
