“I’m not a member of the union. Film folk are very particular about their unions.” She smiled, a hint of her dimple making Aslin’s gut clench. “And thank you. I think I would too. Next question?”
“Huntley? Hemsworth? Which is the real name?”
Rowan picked up the sauce bottle, squeezed a steady stream of the condiment onto half the chips and then plucked one from the bowl. “Hemsworth. But when Chris went to register his name with the Screen Actors Guild there already was a Chris Hemsworth.”
“The current Thor.”
She nodded, popped the chip into her mouth and selected another one. “The current Thor. So Chris went with Huntley, which was our mother’s maiden name.” A stillness fell over her and her gaze lost focus for a moment. A heartbeat. Long enough for Aslin to see a raw pain in her eyes.
And then she grinned, as if the shadow had never been there, and tossed another chip past her lips. “These fries are really good.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
“The perfect texture, the perfect length—” she plucked a long chip from the bowl, dipped its end into some tomato sauce and held it up for inspection, dimple denting her cheek. “—sweet but a little salty.”
As Aslin watched, she placed it—end first—into her mouth, and then sucked the salt from the tips of her fingers. A groan threatened to escape him. Low and deep in his chest. His balls tightened. Christ, why did he imagine it was his dick sinking past her lips, not the potato?
He jerked his stare from her mouth to her eyes, his jaw bunching.
Rowan stared back at him, unmoving. Motionless.
Fuck. He wanted her. Right at this sodding moment, he wanted her more than breath. On a carnal level. On a filthy level. He wanted to bury his cock in her pussy and fuck her until she screamed his name with release. He wanted—
“I don’t want to be attracted to you.” Her voice was steady. Direct.
Aslin sucked in a sharp breath, her abrupt statement like a punch to the guts.
“Being attracted to anyone isn’t part of my plans,” she continued as if discussing the weather. “I don’t have time for it. But…” She stopped, her teeth catching her bottom lip.
“You are,” Aslin finished for her, his groin a thick knot, his heart pounding. “You are attracted to me.”
Rowan nodded, her gaze holding his. “Yes. Very. I’ve tried to play it cool, but I’ve spent most of the night thinking about what it would be like to fuck you. To be fucked by you.”
The thick tension in Aslin’s groin throbbed. Hard. Urgent. Demanding attention. He swallowed, every muscle in his body coiled. “And?”
“And I think the best course of action is to find out. As soon as possible.” She paused. For a heartbeat. “If you’re interested.”
If you’re interested.
The question hung on the air. Aslin stared at her. Was she kidding? It was all he could do not to shove the table between them away, snare her ponytail in his fist and crush her mouth with his. His cock was a pole of rigid agony. His blood roared in his ears.
If you’re interested.
“Well? Are you?” Her soft voice played over his scorched nerve-endings. Her American accent sent fresh lust into his balls.
Without a word, he rose to his feet and rounded the table to stand before her.
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Blackthorne
Copyright © 2014 by Lexxie Couper
ISBN: 978-1-61922-292-2
Edited by Heidi Moore
Cover by Angela Waters
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2014
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Blackthorne: Heart of Fame, Book 8 Page 24