A breathy groan filled the air, more desperate than satisfied.
Four curious sets of eyes locked on her.
Motherfucker, she had made that noise, all pleading and pornographic and—ugh. The tips of Margot’s ears burned so badly she feared they would pop right off like little turkey timers signaling she was well past done. She coughed, as if doing that could possibly pass that groan off as . . . congestion and not a desire to get up close and reacquainted with Olivia’s tongue.
She shivered. Nope. Bad Margot.
“Mar?” The corners of Brendon’s eyes crinkled with concern. “You feeling all right?”
“Mm, yep.” She reached out, knuckles knocking into her glass of ice water, skin slipping against the condensation. A drop of water slipped down the back of her hand and circled her wrist as she took a long drink, studiously avoiding looking anywhere near Olivia. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Annie frowned. “You’re looking kind of flushed.”
Christ on a cracker, couldn’t a girl be horny in peace?
“It is a little warm in here,” Darcy said, earning herself top billing on Margot’s list of favorite people. “I think they’ve got the heat set a touch too high.”
Darcy’s eyes darted from Margot to Olivia and back to Margot, a dimple forming at the corner of her mouth when she smirked. That was, without a doubt, a look to file away for closer inspection later.
“So.” Brendon set his napkin beside his plate, eyes focused on her. “What do you think, or do you not care?”
“I care,” Margot blurted. “I totally care.”
Brendon’s face twisted, half frown, half smile, one hundred percent amused. “Okay . . . so, thoughts?”
Margot winced. Shit. “Um, what was the question?”
Everyone chuckled, Olivia included, her laughter ringing out like a bell, pretty and sharp. Margot’s heart stuttered then sped. It was difficult to get up in arms about being made fun of when Olivia’s smile made her eyes brighten.
“You care, but you don’t know what it is you care about?” Darcy’s brows rose.
“I personally think it’s a testament to my boundless capacity for caring, that it’s not even a prerequisite knowing what it is I care about.”
Darcy grinned. “And I personally think it’s a testament to your ability to bullshit that you were able to say that sentence with a straight face.”
Across the table, Olivia pressed her fingertips to her mouth, stifling her smile.
“Fine, you caught me. I spaced out for a second.”
Margot tossed her napkin down beside her plate and slouched back in her chair, ankle accidentally brushing against Olivia’s beneath the table. Olivia’s whole body twitched at the contact, her eyes flitting up, gaze locking on Margot’s. Whoops. Margot slid her foot away and Olivia broke eye contact, dropping her eyes to the table. A few seconds later, Olivia’s foot bumped up against Margot’s and didn’t move.
Margot swallowed hard. Okay. She was officially Victorian-era-level horny if a—potentially?—accidental game of footsie was making her sweat.
None the wiser, Brendon smiled. “Cake flavors, Mar. You got a preference?”
“They were all pretty tasty,” she hedged, not wanting to put her foot in her mouth and perform a repeat of the time she’d told Brendon—gently—that “At Last” by Etta James wasn’t, in her opinion, the right choice for his and Annie’s first dance.
That was the song you dance to when you’re . . . you’re fifty or on your second marriage. Brendon was younger than Margot, only by a year, but still. At last his love had come along? Sure, he’d crushed on Annie long before they got together, but come on. He hadn’t waited that long.
They’d selected a different song, a song that was a much better fit for them in the end, but Brendon had been bummed. The last thing Margot needed was to inadvertently insult his or Annie’s favorite flavor in the name of being honest.
Margot shrugged. “Can’t go wrong with any of them.”
Unless they picked lavender honey or coconut or—ew—pistachio. Cake was supposed to taste like cake, not like the ingredients in a DIY face mask or potpourri. But, hey, it wasn’t her wedding, and the last thing she wanted was for someone to accuse her of being anything but supportive. She’d force down a whole slice of lavender-pistachio-coconut grossness with a smile on her face if it kept her friends happy.
Across the table, Olivia stared at Margot dubiously.