DINNER

The dining room looked like Thanksgiving instead of a simple family dinner.

A roasted chicken scented with lemon and thyme sat at the center of the table, flanked by a bowl of mashed potatoes swirled with garlic butter, glistening glazed carrots, and a rich salad.

I'd changed my nightie exactly as Mom asked.

The black dress I had changed into, was sleeveless, fitted tight through the ribs, and skimmed just above my knees—longer than the nightie, but still short.

No bra. No panties.

I smirked, walked into the dining room, and took the empty seat.

Victor was sitting at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing as he reached for the wine.

Mom was to his right, already pouring.

Kai watched her with lazy appreciation.

Diego lounged to my left, one arm draped possessively over the back of his chair, legs spread wide like he owned the room.

How arrogant.

But the real heat came from across the table.

The eldest brother sat directly opposite me.

"Everything looks amazing, Elena. You didn't have to go to all this trouble," Victor said.

Mom smiled brightly. "It's no trouble. I wanted tonight to feel… special."

Mateo's gaze lifted slowly, dragging from my lips down to the deep dip of my neckline, where the soft swell of my breasts pressed against the fabric.

His eyes darkened.

A sudden, slow, liquid heat pooled low in my belly.

Conversation started politely enough, but I barely heard it. I waited until the main course was mostly gone, then let my spoon slip from my fingers. It clattered to the floor between my chair and the space beneath the table.

"Oops," I murmured, all innocence.

I bent slowly at the waist, letting my chest dip forward. The neckline gaped, offering Mateo a clear, teasing view of my bare breasts.

Across the table, his fork froze halfway to his mouth. I heard the faint creak of his chair as he shifted, thighs tensing hard beneath the table.

When I straightened, spoon in hand, his dark eyes were locked on me, jaw tight.

I smiled sweetly. "Sorry. Clumsy tonight."

Under the table, I stretched one bare foot forward until my toes brushed the inside of his ankle.

His entire body went rigid.

"Pardon my curiosity. How old are you, Mateo?" I asked sweetly.

"Thirty-three. Why?"

I shrugged. "Just curious."

My foot slid higher, slowly tracing the hard muscle of his calf, then the sensitive skin behind his knee.

His breath hitched sharply.

"So, Mateo, you have a fiancée?" I continued, voice light and playful as my toes crept up the inside of his thigh.

"Yeah… we… we got engaged a month ago." He replied, trying to steady his voice.

I reached the searing heat between his legs and pressed the warm arch of my foot firmly against the rigid length of his cock.

"Oh wow… I wish I could meet your girlfriend."

My foot continued its path up the inside of his thigh. He was rock-hard, throbbing under the denim. I rubbed slowly, feeling him twitch and swell even more against me.

"She must be very beautiful," I whispered, eyes wide and innocent while my foot stroked him with lazy, sinful pressure.

"Yeah… but not as beautiful as you… my little sister," he rasped, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly tone that sent a fresh rush of wetness between my thighs.