Although Huxley split his eyebrow open with the force of the headbutt, and his knuckles are vaguely bruised, his body language is relaxed. There’s a cocky smirk pulling at his lips as he rests back on the couch, his legs wide and his hands on his thighs.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I finally say.
My statement is so half-hearted that Huxley’s smirk never leaves his lips. I don’t mean it. I know it. Huxley knows it. Hell, even Whit knows it.
I’mgladthat Oliver got what was coming to him.
Slimy piece of shit.
“It’s not funny,” I say, but I can’t stop smiling. “Given your record and all.”
Huxley chuckles, resting his hands on the back of his head.
“Sometimes, you just gotta throw caution to the wind, baby.” His smile widens, flashing his teeth, but he then falls serious, his gaze intensifying. “There was no way in hell I was letting him talk to you like that.”
God.
I shouldn’t find his casual attitude toward violence so attractive. Shaking my head, I shoot him an amused look.
“Justtrynot to let it happen again, okay?” I push myself off the desk. “We’d never hear the end of it from your brother.”
I stroll over to him, and Huxley leans forward, giving me his hand to take. Slipping my palm into his, he tugs me onto his lap, and I giggle as I let myself be pulled down.
“It can be our little secret,” he says with a teasing smile. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he gives me a quick kiss before adding, “Besides, he’s not one to speak.”
I snicker, my arms around his neck. “Very true.”
When Ozzy first started dating Jamie, they had a run-in with her abusive ex at the restaurant where they used to work. Ozzy ended up dunking her ex’s hand into the fryer. She didn’t tell me until years later, after one too many glasses of rosé.
I guess we all have things to hide.
“So …” I start, turning slightly nervous in Huxley’s lap, chewing on my bottom lip.
“So …” Huxley repeats, elongating the word as a way to coax me into continuing my sentence.
“I think we should start dating,” I blurt out.
I can tell Huxley wasn’t expecting me to say that by the furrow in his brow and his quirky little side-eye.
He playfully pats my ass before saying, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” He kisses my nose. “Are you asking me to go steady, Connie Broadbent?”
I laugh a little too nervously for my taste. “I mean likedatedate. I feel like we’ve gone about this all wrong.What if we, like, I don’t know …actuallyget to know each other instead of just fucking and fighting.”
Huxley’s eyes turn hooded, his smile languid and confident. “I kind of like it when we fight.”
I tongue my cheek, grinning back at him.
“Yeah, maybe a little too much.”
He kisses me, smiling against my lips.
“So dating, huh?” he says in between kisses down my neck.
“Yes, dating,” I breathe out as Huxley’s fingers dance near my collar, pulling it down so he can trail his lips over my collarbone.
“Like flowers and shit?”
I chuckle under my breath, closing my eyes at the maddening sensation of Huxley’s lips on my skin.
