I trailed off as I discovered him watching me—watching my fingers and my mouth and the sauce that trailed down the side of my hand. I couldn’t breathe as his eyes flashed gold and his lips parted, and I got the sense that he might have wanted to help out with the cleanup. My cheeks caught fire but I was caught in his gaze, held captive to the heat that spiraled up between us. My hands trembled.
He moved slowly to capture my wrist in his hands and I thought I would spontaneously combust. Henry held up my hand to examine it, then started to stroke a napkin across my palm and fingers, his focus so intense that my stomach swerved and dropped to my feet. I could only imagine what it might have felt like to have that kind of focus directed at... other parts of my body.
He dipped a clean napkin into a glass of water and returned to his careful cleaning of my fingers. I should have felt like a kid being cleaned up after making too much of a mess, but there was no mistaking the intent in the way he touched me, the way his knee nudged my thigh, the way his breath against my palm made me want to shiver and moan.
Henry’s voice sounded rougher than normal as he picked up my other hand. “I found this place by chance. Followed my nose, you see. It’s gotten more popular over the last few months, but I don’t mind. They make good food and it’s a good price; they deserve the success. This is one of the restaurants we want to help expand to another location.”
“Oh,” I said, and hoped I sounded at least a little competent and with-it, and not all breathy and disoriented. “They need…wet-wipes at the new location. Especially if they want business people to eat there. Definitely wet-wipes.”
His eyebrows rose as he glanced up at me, still holding my hands. “Yeah?”
“Very messy,” I whispered. “The barbecue.”
He made a thoughtful noise and the smile grew. “You have it all over your face, Ophelia.”
My cheeks burned even more. I must have looked like a crazy fool, getting barbecue sauce all over myself. I started to reach for another napkin, and debated just making a run for the door or the bathroom so I could hide out and try to recover my composure. But before I could do more than take a breath, Henry leaned in.
One hand cradled my cheek and gently brushed at what must have been some sauce leftover from a sparerib, and his head tilted as his lips drifted across my other cheek right near the corner of my mouth. I inhaled sharply, panic rising in my chest. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to climb into his lap and let him keep up whatever kind of flirting this was... Was it a wolf thing?
And then his mouth laved at a sticky spot on my cheek and he murmured with something like hunger, his free hand sliding to the small of my back. Henry broke away for a moment to say, “Can’t take you anywhere, Ophelia. Look at the mess you made.”
My head tilted back as he kissed another spot on my cheek, then to the line of my jaw, and up to my mouth so he could take my lower lip gently in his teeth. I closed my eyes, lost in the sensation. My hands found his forearms, holding on for dear life, and worked into the fabric of his coat. Moon save me from myself and my lack of control.
Henry chuckled and kissed behind my ear, inhaling deeply from my hair, and nuzzled around back there until my thighs clenched and I might have melted into a puddle on the floor if he hadn’t been holding me up. I gulped for air and managed to say, “I know I didn’t get sauce all the way back there.”
He laughed and straightened, trying to act like a perfect gentleman and not someone who’d just kissed me into silence in the middle of a crowded restaurant. There was even a whistle from across the room and a smattering of applause, which made me want to hide behind the counter, but Henry just waved the attention away with a good-natured grin. Apparently they all knew him there and had no qualms about teasing the regular.
He even dampened another napkin and actually helped me wipe the last little bit of barbecue off my cheek, though I thought the napkin might have caught fire with how hot my whole face felt. Henry smiled and squeezed my knee. “You look really cute when you get flustered, Ophelia.”
“That only seems to be a problem when I’m around you,” I said under my breath. I concentrated on dabbing my hands dry and scrubbing at my nails, swearing I’d never eat ribs without a fork again.
“I’m honored.” He started to go on, no doubt to tease me or maybe kiss me again, but his phone buzzed and he frowned down at it for a long moment.
Desperate for his attention to be on something that wasn’t me, I cleared my throat and pretended to peer at the screen. “Trouble?”
“Sort of. Evershaw asked where we’re at and how the meeting went. He’ll want an update.” Henry sighed and the flirtation fell away until he was the serious leader once more. “He’ll definitely want to hear about your stare down with Aria.”
“Stare down? It wasn’t that dramatic.”
He waved for the bill and paid before I had the chance to even reach for my bag, leaving a generous tip on the counter and shouting his thanks to the cooks and waitress. Then Henry held my hand as he weaved through the crowd and found the door. “It was a little dramatic. If I had a clue what you two were talking about, I might have been really afraid.”
I laughed and leaned against his side when we hit the sidewalk and there was finally enough room to walk next to him. “Just because we had to…set expectations doesn’t mean it was dramatic. We just needed to make sure there was appropriate mutual respect so no one did anything crazy.”
His arm looped around my waist and his hand settled comfortably on my hip, and I breathed easier. With as tall and broad and capable as Henry was—and as confident—I felt safe and sheltered. Protected. Like nothing bad could happen so long as he was next to me. My heart thumped in my chest and the magic flared up in anticipation. What if Nola convinced him to return to Montana, though? And what if all the affection and attention was just a consequence of him pretending I was his mate? I tried not to get my hopes up that Henry meant what he said, or that he felt the same spark of attraction I did, although his fascination with my mouth and the soft spot behind my ear seemed to hint that he definitely felt something.
My cheeks burned the entire drive home, and not just because Henry touched my knee. I’d meant it when I said I didn’t mind pretending to be his mate, but I started to wonder how far we would take the ruse just to show Nola that he wouldn’t go back. How far did I want to take the ruse? I hadn’t felt that kind of physical snap-crackle-pop in ages. Why couldn’t I take advantage of it? Why couldn’t I indulge? If Henry was willing—and it certainly seemed like he was—then what was the harm in some snuggling? Some making out? Maybe even... more?
I pressed my lips together and hoped no one in the house could read minds. It might end up being a long damn afternoon if I had to wait until dinner to decide if I wanted to open the door to a little more with Henry.
