My stomach quivered as his foot rubbed my side again. “Well, long as you can take care of yourself, I guess.”
“Be more fun if someone else took care of me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You wanna…take care of me?”
“Orion…”
He brought his legs higher, thighs pressing around my shoulders. His eyes narrowed as he let a lock of hair fall over one eye. My heart thudded so fast I felt dizzy, but I held his gaze. A half-smile quirked his lips. “May I have some whisky please?”
I swallowed hard. “No, you may not.”
“Even with the…nice way I’m asking?” His legs were nearly resting on my shoulders now.
“Yeah, about that.” I chuckled. “Don’t you think this form of manipulation is probably a bit…customized for trying on someone you just met?”
“You mean someone who only likes girls.”
I shrugged.
He squeezed his thighs tighter around me, and they slipped upward, finally resting on my shoulders. I couldn’t stop the sharp inhale as he locked his ankles behind my neck. “You’d be surprised how often I can change minds about that.”
I managed to disguise the hard breath leaving my body as a laugh. “No, Orion. Actually, that would not surprise me one bit.”
He went still for a moment, studying my eyes. He beamed at the compliment, then slowly, it became a tight frown. “But it’s not working on you, is it?”
“Sorry, no,” I lied. “Good effort, though.”
Sighing, he slid his ass back, legs releasing me. The break of contact was sudden, and I shifted on my chair, realizing I’d been holding myself so stiff my muscles ached. Not just my muscles, either. My jeans were tighter in the groin area.
“Oh well.” Orion drummed his fingers on the table between his thighs. “It was worth a try. Hey, can I do a psychic reading on you?”
My cock was stiff and my pulse was racing, but I made my voice sound bored as I responded, “Thought you said you couldn’t because of my Pigpen aura.”
He grinned, swiping that one stray lock out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “I lied about that. I can’t read auras. I use seashells.”
“Seashells. Why?”
“Why do I use them or why do they work?”
“Oh, I don’t for one second believe they work.”
One socked foot lifted and his toes playfully poked my chest. “Such a skeptic. I have them with me, they’re in the car.” He jabbed his thumb in that direction. “I can go get them. Come on, please? Let me do a reading on you. Just for fun. You wouldn’t let me have any whisky. Gonna say no to everything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, the practice would help me. If you agree to be completely honest, that is. I already know a lot about you, so I’ll know it’s a legit hit if I come up with something only you know, and you validate it. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
“Do I owe you a favor?” I asked snarkily. “By my count, I already gave you dinner and wine, and all you’ve given me is attitude.”
His eyes narrowed, that sly smirk returning. “Here’s your favor. Let me do a reading and I won’t tell Jasper you let me wrap my legs around your neck.”
“Pretty certain that would reflect more poorly on you, but sure,” I said, only because I needed him to get up and walk away for a moment. With him still so close, my boner was refusing to recede. I needed a reprieve to compose myself. “Why not. Go get your seashells.”
“Yes!” In another graceful, acrobatic move, he swung both legs up over my head, did a little spin, and hopped off the table. But before leaving, he leaned over, his face close to mine. “Wanna know a secret?”
I looked into his eyes, almost black, but flecked with lighter brown and yellow around the pupil. “Sure. What is it?”
“I don’t like whisky. Doing a reading on you is what I really wanted all along. So…” He poked my chest with his finger. “I manipulated you.” He moved away from the table, laughing.
“What? You liar…” I turned to follow his movements, but he’d already left the room. I heard the front door open and close.
“God damn.” I got up and went into the bathroom, splashing water on my face. “God damn,” I repeated, at a loss for more meaningful words. Holding the edges of the sink, I took slow, deep breaths. I was out of sorts, but also almost giddy. Orion’s attentions had my pleasure centers all lit up, and not just in my dick. My gloomy mood from earlier had completely lifted.
“Ease up there,” I whispered to myself. “Rein it in.”
I didn’t want to be that guy—lonely dude acting pathetic. I had scores of women wanting to date my dreary ass, and still had trouble dragging myself out of the house most nights. But tonight, suddenly I felt awake, and filled up. A starving dog who’d been thrown a meaty bone. But I needed to not act like a starving dog. Lonely dude might be pathetic, but he still had his pride.
I heard the front door open and close again. “Kurt? I got the stuff.”
“Okay,” I shouted. “I’ll be right out.”
“I like to sit on the floor, you got a coffee table in your living room? Can we do it in there?”
“Yeah, just down the hall, Orion. I’ll meet you in there.”
“Okay.”
“Fuck,” I whispered, contemplating my current state of affairs. I was about to get a psychic reading from a man who just practically gave me a lap dance. This was not a very Me thing to do. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying.
But I decided I might as well just go with it. It was time Dull-Kurt took a holiday.
Chapter Eight
I sat on the couch, coffee table in front of me, Orion kneeling on the other side of it on the floor. Low flames flickered in my stone fireplace, Orion’s idea, not mine. I never lit a fire in the summer, but he’d insisted it would create the right atmosphere for our reading, opening all the windows and letting the night breeze from the nearby ocean cool the room. I’d turned on several lamps, but he’d shut them all off, instead lighting three white candles he’d brought with him. All the firelight made the room soft and shadowy.
“What now?” I asked.
I’d brought us both glasses of ice water, and Orion picked his up and drank nearly all of it down. “Okay.” He picked up a long, rectangular box off the floor, placing it on the coffee table. It had a latch like a toolbox, and he flipped it open. “Here we go.”
I saw water inside, and got a whiff of the ocean. “What’s all this?”
“Seawater,” he said. He reached into a backpack he’d brought from his car, and pulled out a scarf of blue satin, draping it across the table from end to end. He then twisted a lever at the edge of the water box and a screen rose slowly up out of the water, three seashells resting on top. Gripping the edges, he lifted the screen up out of the box and held it there, droplets dripping off the bottom. “Just let them dry for a minute.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Quite the ceremony. Must get the ladies at your psychic parties all wet.”
“Hey Kurt, anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a dick?”