My cheeks burn as Caleb rolls off me, making sure the blanket stays firmly in place over both of us.
Jackson turns his bright blue eyes to me. “I’m hungry, Mommy. Can we have pancakes?”
Caleb chuckles. “Go find some cartoons on the TV, little man. We’ll be out in a minute to make breakfast.”
Jackson’s face falls. “We don’t have a TV.”
I watch the wheels turning in Caleb’s head.
“We’ll get you guys one today,” he offers without missing a beat.
“Uh, no you won’t,” I protest immediately.
Caleb smirks, and I narrow my eyes at him. Then I turn to Jackson. “Go play in your room while I talk to Dread, okay?”
Jackson’s eyes bounce between us before landing on Caleb. “You’re in trouble,” he stage-whispers before bouncing out of the room.
“In trouble, huh?” His eyes drop to my mouth as he shifts his weight back over me.
“Yeah,” I breathe as his lips touch mine.
He kisses me senseless, his tongue tangling with mine, his hands sliding up to cup my face. When we finally come up for air, I can’t remember what I was annoyed at him about.
“Let’s get your boys fed,” he says, pressing one more quick kiss on my mouth.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing my fingers to my tingling lips.
I watch as he climbs out of bed, completely unashamed of his nakedness. My eyes trace the tattoos that cover his back and arms, the hard muscles of his thighs, his perfect butt. When he turns around, I blush and look away.
“Like what you see?” he asks, his voice smug.
“Don’t be smug,” I mutter, feeling heat rush to my face.
He laughs and tosses me my t-shirt from the floor. “Put some clothes on, woman, before I forget about feeding your boys and eat you for breakfast instead.”
The thought sends a rush of heat straight between my legs.
We get dressed quickly, and Caleb kisses me again before leading me down the hall to the kitchen. When we get there, he lifts me onto the counter like I weigh nothing.
“Stay put,” he commands, his hands lingering on my hips. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. He’s not the only one who could get used to this.
I watch in fascination as he moves around my tiny kitchen, finding the coffee maker and filters, pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge, and the pancake mix from the pantry.
“You cook?” I ask, surprised.
He looks over his shoulder with a grin. “Don’t sound so shocked. I live alone. It was either learn to cook or live on takeout.”
“Fair enough.”
Tommy shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He freezes when he spots Caleb, but instead of the suspicion I expect, my oldest son’s face lights up.
“Dread! You’re still here!”
“Yep. Grab a seat. I’m making pancakes.”
Jackson bounces in a moment later. “Tommy! Guess what? Dread’s gonna buy us a TV!”
