Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
She’s so fucking young. Too fucking young. I know it logically. It’s reason enough to leave her alone even if Jet didn’t like her, but I know myself well enough to know neither of those things will stop me.
I’ve never been shy about taking things I want, but I’ve never had to take from my own flesh and blood, either.
I had her first, but Jet doesn’t know that.
“Kennedy.”
Her gaze shoots to me at the sound of her name and she sits up, her body tentative as she remains on the couch, but one summons from abandoning it. “Yeah?”
“Come in here.”
I don’t tell her why and she doesn’t ask, just rises from the couch and saunters into the kitchen.
I’m standing at the counter, so she comes over and leans a hip on the counter a couple of feet away. “What do you need?”
“You want to help me with dinner?”
The invitation surprises her, but she nods her head. “Sure.” She glances at the empty countertop, then back at me. “What are we making?”
“Grilled cheese.”
She cocks a skeptical eyebrow. “For dinner?”
I nod, brushing close to her as I approach the refrigerator for some ingredients. “Breakfast for dinner grilled cheese, too. We’re really saying ‘fuck it’ to all the rules.”
Kennedy cracks a smile that makes me think she isn’t talking about grilled cheese. “Sounds on-brand for you.”
I tell her to grab the wheat bread out of the pantry and she does. When she comes back, she asks, “What do you need me to do?”
“You know how to make scrambled eggs?”
“Of course. I make pretty good ones, actually.”
My lips quirk. “I bet you do.”
Her lovely cheeks flush, but she pretends not to read into it.
Me, I’m not such a gentleman. As I bend down to grab her a skillet out of the bottom cupboard, I let her catch me looking at her legs on my way up.
She avoids my gaze and focuses harder than anyone needs to on untying the bread bag.
I come up behind her, feeling the heat from her body as I press closer than necessary to hand her the pan. “Here you go,” I murmur.
“Thank you,” she murmurs back, her tone a little uneven.
“Mm-hmm.” I reach for that long, thick mass of unruly hair and pull it back over her shoulder. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t try to move away. “When I pictured you making me eggs for the first time, I’ve gotta say, I never thought you’d be wearing all those clothes.”
Her breath catches, then rushes out of her. I wait for a response, but she doesn’t seem to have one. Instead, she drops the bread tie and opens the egg carton. “I need a fork,” she says without looking at me.
I grab her hip and pull her aside just enough so I can open the silverware drawer. Pulling one out, I murmur, “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs back.
Picking up where I left off before she tried to change the subject, I tell her, “I pictured you bare-assed while you cooked for me. Wearing one of my shirts and my scent all over your body, but nothing else. When you walk toward me with the plates and the fabric moves, I catch a glimpse of your pussy.” I meet her gaze. “Sure gives me an appetite, but not for eggs.”
Flicking a nervous glance in Jet’s direction and a frown of censure in mine, she says, “Could you not?”
I move even closer behind her, sliding my hands around her small waist and pressing a palm to her belly.
“I’m serious,” she says, stealing another glance toward Jet. His back is to us, but she’s too afraid of getting caught to properly enjoy it as my hand slides up toward her tit.
“Didn’t imagine you keeping that shirt on for very long.”
She grabs my roaming hand and pulls it off her, then does her best to crack an egg and pretend to be unaffected. “Let me go before someone sees.”
“Jet?” I question.
She doesn’t answer, but he’s the only one she could mean.
“You’re not seriously starting something with him, are you?”
“So what if I am?” she flings back, glaring at me over her shoulder.
“It’s a little fucked up, don’t you think?”
Her eyes widen. “Are you serious? You used to date my mom, so I’m pretty sure who I date is none of your business.”
“Everything you do is my business.”
A short laugh escapes her and she shakes her head. “That’s a crazy thing to say.”
My lips tug up. “Maybe I’m a crazy man.”
She glances back at me, a trace of warmth she doesn’t want to show visible on her lovely features. “Maybe you are.” More gently than the first time, she reaches for my arms and tugs them from around her waist to free herself from my grasp.
I let her go this time and lean back on the counter, watching her grab the milk and cheese and mix it all together.