“Like an idiot misses the point,” she replied.
Chuckling, Tanner pressed a kiss to her mouth. “You always make me feel so adored.” He peeked down her dress, getting a good look at her cleavage. “How are Holly and Molly doing?”
She sighed. “It’s not normal that you’ve named my boobs. You know that, right?”
“It seems so impersonal to refer to them as Leftie and Righty.”
Unable to stifle a smile, Devon shook her head. “You’re an odd one, pooch.”
He gave her another kiss. “Party’s almost over, so we’ll be leaving soon. I’ve gotta say, you impressed me tonight. People fussed and crowded you, but you only hissed a few times. Didn’t draw blood once.”
“I did lunge at the slimy lawyer, though.”
“Him I don’t like, so it doesn’t count.”
“Oh. Good.” She rested her head on his shoulder, smiling as his arms tightened around her. He’d been a little clingy since the whole her-almost-getting-killed thing. She figured his protective streak might be on fire for a few more months at least.
He’d been in a good mood today, though. Mostly because he was smug that her demon had branded him that morning. Twice. He now sported a tribal band on each of his upper arms. If anyone looked close enough at the design, they’d notice that each of the black curved lines were in fact claw marks.
His mind brushed hers. Love this dress you’re wearing, he said, sliding his hand up her side over the lattice design. The white, smooth, slinky number clung perfectly to her body. Can’t decide whether I’d rather flip it up when I fuck you or just claw the whole thing off.
There will be no tearing this dress, she asserted. It’s one of my favorites.
There’ll be plenty of fucking, though, as soon as we get home.
I’m counting on it. Hey, on another note … I meant to ask you earlier, what’s up Keenan’s butt? The incubus had been glaring at a completely oblivious Khloë all night—something he was doing again now.
Not sure, replied Tanner. But I’m getting the feeling that the imp has done something to piss him off.
It seemed likely. But if Keenan thought that Khloë would even notice those glares, he was wrong. Her shields were solid, and passive-aggressiveness often went right over her head.
“Teague’s racing tomorrow,” Khloë announced. “He said he’ll sort us a private box if we want to go. You girls up for it?”
“Sure,” said Devon.
Raini raised a hand. “I’m in.”
“You can count me in, too,” Harper told her.
“Awesome.” Khloë sank into her chair with a happy sigh. “I feel like I could float right now. How cool would that be? I mean, think of the possibilities. I could pee on people. Say hi to birds. Sleep on clouds like a Care Bear.”
Raini wrinkled her nose. “What’s a Care Bear?”
Khloë did a slow blink. “Dude, don’t you ever watch cartoons?”
“No.”
Khloë shook her head. “I feel like I don’t know you right now.”
“You’re not going to apologize, are you?” Keenan asked, his voice clipped.
The table fell silent. Khloë looked up at him and seemed surprised that the question had been directed at her. “For … ?” she prompted.
Keenan’s lips thinned. “For what happened last night when I gave you a ride home from the Xpress bar.”
Khloë bit down on the inside of her cheek. “I’m not sure what answer will bother you more. That I can’t remember what happened, or that it’s unlikely I’ll apologize, since annoying you is always fun.”
Curious, Devon lifted her head from Tanner’s shoulder and asked, “What did she do?”
Keenan didn’t even look Devon’s way. He was still glaring at Khloë, his neck corded. “It was irritating enough that you wouldn’t get in the car without bringing a road cone with you. Listening to you sing the wrong lyrics to ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ was equally irritating—especially since you were using a tampon as a microphone. I can only thank God it was an unused tampon, because you tried shoving it down my ear. Oh, and then there’s the part where you were texting yourself. And yes, I had to listen to you read aloud a text-conversation you were having with yourself about how annoying it is that donuts have holes in them.”
Biting back a laugh, Devon snuggled into Tanner, whose shoulders were shaking.
“I wish I could say it ended there,” Keenan went on. “But no. You refused to get out of the car when I parked in your driveway. You swore it wasn’t your house and accused me of trying to hand you over to sex traffickers. When I finally convinced you that it was your home, you kept insisting I kiss the road cone goodbye. I refused, of course, so you threatened to post on social media that I’m a road cone bigot. Only you could turn a simple car ride into a crazy-ass episode—something you topped off by trying to unlock your front door with a tampon. I mean, seriously, what is up with that?”