Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“So, how are you such an awesome cook?” I ask to his back. “Wait. Are you just one of those one-dish cooks? Admit it, Caff. You suggested tacos because it’s the only thing you can make,” I tease.
He turns his gaze to me in slow-motion, delivering the dirtiest how dare you look as he stirs the sizzling veggies in the pan with a red plastic spatula. “If you want, I’ll make a bet to prove I can cook any dish.”
“Will it take you a year and three weeks to make good on it?” I counter as he returns his focus to the stove.
A chuckle moves through him, then he flips me the bird with his free hand.
“You weren’t so sassy when you were coming in my mouth in ten seconds,” I point out.
He goes quiet as he adjusts the heat.
Shit. Did I touch a sore spot? Is he always fast on the draw? Ah, fuck. I don’t want to make him feel bad if he’s a sprinter in bed. “Look, I get it. I’m kind of a rock star with my tongue, so I understand,” I say, laying on the cocky charm.
He looks back at me again. This time, his eyes flare with competitive fire. “How about a rematch?”
I wasn’t expecting that at all, but I recover quickly. “Does this mean you want to jump back on my dick, or are you wanting more of my magic mouth?”
Even though he’s turned his back to me again, I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Both.” Then he adds, for emphasis, “Definitely both.”
Mmm. I like that answer a lot. Someone digs me too. I grin like a fool but wipe it off my face as soon as he turns to set the plated dishes on the kitchen island in front of me.
“I do feel like a king now,” I say, admiring the spread. “Since I love tacos.”
“I figured you did.” Beck gestures with his red spatula to the hallway, where CockBlocker sits, swishing his tail back and forth, staring at the chef. “That’s why I suggested them.”
“Brains and brawn,” I say, assembling my late-night meal. “But the cat’s new name is officially CockBlocker. I’m going to get him a new tag too.”
“And will you use that name in mixed company?”
I laugh as I sprinkle cilantro on my food. “I just might,” I say, but then pause. “Maybe not with my dad. He’s super chill, but I like to pretend sex doesn’t exist around him. Not because I’m gay but because he’s my dad.”
Beck laughs. “Totally understandable,” he says as he dresses his taco with salsa, then sits across from me and bites into it. I take a bite of mine too and moan my approval. When he finishes chewing, he smiles ruefully and points to the second floor. “I’m sorry I was kind of . . . overeager earlier.”
My heart squeezes for him. “Don’t be sorry. It was kind of a cool compliment,” I say. No swagger now, just honesty.
“I mean, I was pretty worked up, Jason. I don’t think I’ve ever been that turned on,” he continues, recapping our sex matter-of-factly.
I’m not used to this kind of bluntness from a man. Most guys I’ve dated are full of bluster in the bedroom, wanting to prove something. I’m probably that way too. I rarely let down my guard. I’ve also rarely seen a dude take off a mask.
Until now.
I do the same with my late-night visitor, meeting Beck on his level. “I was pretty aroused too. You worked me over real good.” A hot spark slides down my spine as I relive the electric thrill of Beck kneeling between my thighs and teasing the fuck out of me like I asked him to.
Beck can’t hide his smile. “Are you thinking of the couch right now?” he asks, then takes another bite.
“That obvious?”
“No. I was just hoping you were.” He sets down his food and reaches for his beer bottle. When he takes a swig, it’s like he’s drinking courage. “And I meant it when I said ‘rematch.’”
I smile, psyched that he wants to stay longer. “Yeah?”
“Is that okay with you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You didn’t say anything when I mentioned it before.”
Oh, shit. That was my bad. I stretch an arm across the table, run my thumb over his top lip, then murmur, “Have I told you I’m obsessed with your lips?”
“No, but feel free to say it over and over,” he says, his voice a little dreamy.
“I want to fuck them again.” Maybe it sounds like I’m breaking out the moves, but nothing is a line right now. I am all truth as I say, “Tonight.”
He nips on my thumb. “Good,” he whispers, a little shuddery.
I settle back onto the stool and return to the feast. If I play with his lips, I’ll have a boner for the rest of the meal.