Wanting to melt into him right there, Emily poked her head into the dining room. Everyone was already seated and waiting for them. She turned back to him, her voice becoming heated. “Gavin, are you going to make me beg you to stop?”
Gavin blinked. “Are you trying to get me to take you right here in the kitchen?”
Shaking her head and about ready to let him do exactly that, Emily laughed and reached for his hand, once again pulling him along. The escape into the dining room was quick but comical as she heard Gavin release a dejected sigh. She felt bad, but considering he commanded a room by simply being in it, she loved knowing she had power over him.
“So how’d she do on the flight, Gavin?” Michael asked. “Did you need to drug her up?”
Emily rolled her eyes as Gavin pulled out her seat. “No, he didn’t have to drug me up.”
Lounging into the chair next to her, Gavin smirked, slipped his hand under the table, and rested it on Emily’s thigh. Drawing tiny circles along her silk skirt, he smiled when he felt her shift. “I was able to talk her down. It was easier than I expected, though.”
“Good,” Michael said, dumping a pile of green beans onto his plate.
“I’m sure being on a private jet helped some,” Lisa said, reaching for a bowl of mashed potatoes. After scooping some out, she handed them to Emily. “Those seven-forty-sevens scare the shit out of me.”
“Private jet?” Phil stared in shock across the table. “Did you hit the lotto?”
Gavin turned to Emily, a lazy smile on his face.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “In more ways than one,” she whispered. Gavin squeezed her thigh, his smile widening. Emily shoveled some mashed potatoes onto her plate. Looking at Gavin, her eyes questioned if he wanted some. Gavin nodded, and she served him up a pile. “No, Phil, the jet’s Gavin’s. And, Lisa, you’re correct. It’s better than flying on seven-forty-sevens. But either way, you’re still in the air where humans don’t belong. I hate it.”
Gavin and Michael chuckled.
“Shit,” Lisa chimed, standing to her feet. “What are you two drinking?” she asked, looking at Emily and Gavin.
“Red wine,” Emily answered.
“Thank you,” Gavin said. “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
Lisa nodded and whisked off to the kitchen.
Leaning back, Phil crossed his arms. “A man who owns a jet drinks a simple beer? I would’ve thought someone who could afford such a luxury would prefer something more refined. Looks can be deceiving.”
Emily’s eyes flew from Gavin—clenching his jaw—to Michael, his hand halted with his fork inches from his mouth. She swallowed nervously, placing her hand over Gavin’s on her thigh.
Amusement at the asshole’s statement glimmered in Gavin’s eyes as he leaned back, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t aware there were rules to what one should drink whether they’re rich, poor, or somewhere in the middle, Phil. It’d be interesting to hear how you formed this opinion, though.”
Lisa emerged from the kitchen and handed Emily and Gavin their drinks.
Gavin popped the top off the bottle, leaned over, and placed a luscious kiss on Emily’s lips as he slid the cap into her palm. Leaving Emily breathless, he returned his attention to Phil. A simpering smile broke out across Gavin’s face as he continued. “What’s your source of information? Reader’s Digest? Newsday? Perhaps a woman’s magazine?” Before he let Phil answer his barrage of questions, Gavin leaned back over to Emily and whispered, “I owed you a bottle cap since the last few times I drank, I forgot to give you one. I’m sorry.”
Cupping his cheek, she stared into his eyes. “I love you. And I love your bottle caps more than you’ll ever know.”
Gavin quirked a brow. “Yeah? Even though I have a fuckload of money, you love my bottle caps? Should my caps be more… refined?”
“No,” she said breathlessly. “They’re perfect.”
“Are you sure?” he whispered, his eyes searching her face. “Phil and his semi-bald head might disagree.”
“Phil’s an asshole, and you’re perfect,” she whispered back, lacing her hands around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Uncaring that everyone seated at the table was most definitely watching them, Emily indulged in his lips for a few more seconds before pulling away.
Staring into her eyes, Gavin mouthed the word “Inhaling” before once again shooting his glare back to Phil. “Sorry about that. I find it hard to control myself where Emily’s concerned. I’m sure you understand. Oh wait. You couldn’t. She’s the one who got away.” Gavin threw him a wink and picked up his fork. “Back to what I was saying. Your source of information on such an outlandish assumption would be… what?”
Phil shifted and cleared his throat. “No source of information. I guess it was just an assumption.”
Lisa’s eyes went wide, clearly confused by the conversation that’d taken place while getting their drinks.
Smiling at her sister, Emily shook her head, trying to stifle a bout of laughter threatening to erupt from her belly.
“That’s what I figured,” Gavin said, bringing his unrefined bottle of Budweiser to his lips. “So, what do you do for a living, Phil?”
Phil adjusted his tie, the uncomfortable set in his body palpable. “I own a real estate development company.”
Seated to Emily’s right at the head of the table, Michael swung his head in Emily’s direction, his voice low. “Phil’s a moron. Always has been and always will be. But I deal with him because I love your sister.” Emily nodded, admiring the way Michael always put Lisa’s feelings before his. “Gavin’s one badass motherfucker. I like him.”