Page 7

I don't really speak Spanish, but I manage a mumbled, "Hola," in reply.

"Don't worry," Cayden says, conspiratorial. "He speaks English, too."

"When he bothers to speak at all," Jax adds.

Sergio just tips the brim of an imaginary hat at him, and I get it. Strong, silent type, eh? I can get behind that.

And I really, really wouldn't mind the last man still standing at the sink getting behindme. Bending me over this very counter, opening me up and then driving in deep.

"And this guy here is the heart and soul of our operation." Cayden claps my shoulder. "Haley, meet Deandre. Deandre, Haley."

My tongue is thick in my mouth as he looks me up and down.

"Well, hello there, little lady."

And I do feel little, but not the way I do around Jax. I feel delicate. Pretty. Wanted. My cheeks bloom with heat, and I can't seem to find any reply, so I drop my gaze, nodding.

Only a finger fits itself beneath my chin. Deandre lifts my face until I'm looking right into his dark, dark eyes. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah. Just." What am I? Besides drunk on lust and sexual frustration and the sheer static electricity rolling off the bodies of all the ripped guys surrounding me? "Overwhelmed," I finally settle on.

And it's true. Jesus but it's been a day. A week.

A month.

"Well, you just take a load off then." Deandre points back toward the living room. "Adam's just about finished with the grub. You rest and relax and we'll bring your supper to you in a minute."

And god, why does it feel like such a relief to have someone telling me what to do? It's not the gentle nudging of Cayden's invitation to come stay with him or the irritating poking of everything Jax says. Deandre acts like he knows best and like he knows my own mind to boot, and it's just…nice.

All this time, I've been putting on a strong face for everyone around me. Suddenly, it feels like I can let it go.

I sag, letting my shoulders fall. With Cayden as my escort, I retreat exactly the way Deandre suggested I should. I collapse onto a corner of the couch, right near the roaring fire. Its heat seeps into my bones. Cayden takes my bag from me and sets it on the floor, then helps me shrug out of my jacket and drapes a soft, red wool blanket over my lap. I thank him and lean into the soft cushions, curling up and resting my head on the arm of the couch.

For a while, I drift. Cayden disappears around a corner and returns not long after dry and in a different set of clothes. WhenI catch sight of Jax again, he's similarly cleaned up. Sergio takes a couple of trips from the kitchen to the living room and back, arms laden.

"Better?" Deandre's rumbling voice comes from beside my head.

I look up dreamily. His smile is soft but bright in the flickering candlelight. I nod. "Much."

"Glad to hear it, girlie." He reaches down and pets my hair, brushing it back from my face, and the touch sends licks of honey-like warmth flowing through me. His fingertips linger, trailing along the side of my neck. Tingles bloom from every point of contact.

"Dinner's up," Adam announces from the doorway. He smiles at me. "Hope you like beef stew."

"Sounds amazing." I struggle to sit up, with my bones turned to jelly the way they are. Deandre puts his hands under my arms and hoists me up. Holy cow, he's strong, his huge hands making me feel small all over again.

Adam ladles up a heaping bowl for me, then passes it to Deandre who passes it to me. Deandre grabs a bowl of his own and sits on the hearth, close to me but not too close.

Cayden plops down beside me. I'm not exactly sure what to make of the way he's been sticking by my side. There's a certain possessiveness to it, but not a threatening one. Deandre's touches and Adam's warm handshake didn't seem to phase him.

I tuck that observation away for later and dip my spoon into the stew. It's thick and hearty, full of big chunks of beef and carrot and potato. Without really thinking about it, I bring some to my lips and blow, then glance up to find an awful lot of sets of eyes focused intently on my mouth. I flash an uncertain, self-conscious smile, then take a bite. Rich flavor bursts over my tongue, and I let out a little moan of pleasure.

A spoon clanks loudly against porcelain, but I can't tell who dropped it. The room is filled with a nameless tension, practically vibrating with it, and my skin tingles. There's just so much male energy here. Something about my presence seems to have upset a delicate balance, and I both want to apologize and to revel in it.

"Taste okay?" Adam asks, voice rough.

"Delicious."

"Good."