The moment I stepped into the dining hall, two pairs of eyes pinned me against the doorframe. One green, the other tawny.
Xander's face softened into a playful grin.
Jameson's lips, however, oh-so-slowly curved into a crooked smile.
"I'm devastated," Xander decided, eyeing my empty hands, "that you visited Denmark and didn't bring me back a single danish pastry."
"I thought scones were your favorite," I retorted, sparing the youngest Hawthorne brother a jet-lagged smile.
"You're right," Xander agreed. "Nothing can top the wonder of a sensational scone. Danishes, however, are a close second."
Ignoring the sexual tension rippling between Jameson and I, I fixed my eyes on the scrabble board between the two brothers. It was filled with an assortment of words that ranged from heiress to tonsillectomy. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."
"Next time," Jameson said, his green eyes magnetic, "you won't be going alone."
"Is that a promise?" I challenged.
Jameson smirked as I walked closer to his side of the table. It was long enough to house dozens, but I chose the seat beside his.
"Most definitely, heiress."
Jameson kissed me, his aching manifested in the passion of his lips. Our bodies aligned, eliminating any space between us, and two hearts synchronized rapidly.
Before Jameson could steal another kiss, though, Xander slammed down a new word on the scrabble board: nauseated.
My lips twitched.
Jameson's, on the other hand, scowled. "I haven't seen her in two weeks."
"Neither have I," Xander responded, twirling a scrabble piece on his thumb.
"You're not her boyfriend."
"You're not her BHFF."
Jameson scoffed. "Boyfriend trumps that."
"Does it?" Xander cast his gaze toward me, his brows raised in genuine curiosity.
I shook my head. "They're equal."
"We'll see about that," Jameson murmured, snatching my hand as he turned his attention toward the scrabble board. "You're on my team, heiress."
"I dunno," Xander said, eyeing me. "After the whole danish catastrophe I think she deserves to be punished."
"What kind of punishment?"
"She's on her own," Xander supplied, grinning. "Avery against Jamie and I."
Before I could accept the challenge — or decline it — Jameson laid his hand on my thigh beneath the table. My skin instantly itched for more.
While in Denmark, I'd been starved of his touch. And ultimately decided that traveling alone did not satisfy my needs.
"I want her on my team," Jameson murmured to his brother.
"If there's nothing more Hawthorne than winning," Xander said, "I do believe it's illegal for a Grambs to be on your team."
Jameson's gaze was wicked as he eyed us both and said, "I guess I'll just have to change her name then."
