“Hi.”
“Hi.” Jordyn grins.
Damn, she looks sexy with hoop earrings, short, sassy hair, white cut-off shorts, and a sweater slightly darker than the peach gloss on her lips. It teases with peeks of bare skin through the wide-knit stitches. I wouldn’t mind a bit if we skipped dinner and went straight to the bedroom.
“Come on in.”
I do and drop my duffle bag on the floor with a light thump.
She glances up at me in question. “What about your grandfather?”
“We reached a compromise. He agreed to wear a medical alert device if I’m out of the house for the night so he can get drunk with his cronies.”
“Good trade,” she laughs.
“I get the best part of the deal,” I say, putting the steaks I picked up from the butcher on the counter before twirling Jordyn into my arms. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”
I lower my head to capture her smile with my lips. She tastes like cinnamon candy: warm, sweet, and spicy. She slips her hands to the back of my neck, her fingertips sneaking up my scalp, eagerly feeding me her tongue.
Why are we making dinner when we could have ordered in and tousled the sheets while we waited for Uber Eats?
Jordyn’s the one to break the kiss. It’s all I can do not to yank her back and take her mouth again and more, but this is her party.
“Bourbon?” she asks.
“How’d you know I like bourbon?”
“I didn’t. But it suits you. A mix of strength and confidence with depth and mystery.”
“That’s how you see me?”
“Hm-hmm. Am I right?”
“About me liking bourbon, yes.”
She hums, pleased with herself, and takes a tumbler out of the cupboard and pours me three fingers, neat, no ice, the way I take it. She chooses wine for herself.
“No bourbon for you?”
“Too strong. I like that in a man, not my drinks.” She hands me the tumbler before lifting her glass. We share a grin which is becoming a habit of mine.
“To unexpected things,” I say. We clink glasses. I take a sip, and the bourbon goes down warm and smooth.
“What do you think?” she asks. “It’s apparently award-winning.”
“It’s very good.” But I like the taste of her a helluva lot better. I help myself to her lips, keeping the kiss brief. “I better get these steaks prepared. I brought this bomb seasoning.” I wash my hands at the sink and open the twine and wrapping on the filets.
“Those are massive.”
“I saw the way you chowed down the ribs and burger. I didn’t want to skimp.”
“Smart man.” She bumps her hip against me and then moves away to get the salad kit from the fridge. When she bends over to grab the vegetables from the bottom drawer, the sight of those round butt cheeks makes me want to take a big, juicy bite.
I finish my bourbon while letting the steaks absorb the dry rub. “How’s the salad coming?”
“Slow. I was distracted by you massaging the meat. Won’t lie, I was jealous.”
