Not wanting to announce my presence just yet, I stayed just out of view so I could have unfettered access to watch him and Chuckanut. She sat dutifully at his bare feet, head cocked and focus on him as she waited patiently for any and all scraps to land her way.
“I don’t know why your mom insists on feeding you garbage.” He glanced down at her, his voice low. Probably because he most definitely wouldn’t want me hearing this. “But I’m working on it. You like what I feed you better than that other shit, anyway, don’t you? If you agree, just sit there and stare at me.”
He raised a brow at Chuckanut, who, predictably, sat there, staring up at him. I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle, but apparently I didn’t do a very good job, because he snapped his gaze in my direction. A scowl settled on his face when he found me peering around the corner.
I walked toward him, shooting him a grin. “Uh-oh. Have I overstayed my welcome already?”
“No,” he said, the crease in his brow deepening as he turned back to the stove. “But you don’t get any bacon.”
“Well, that’s not very nice.”
“It’s also not very nice to spy on people.”
“I wasn’t aware you were sharing state secrets with my dog.” I leaned my hip on the counter next to him and raised a brow. “Do we need to invest in some soundproofing for the closet so you can have your clandestine conversations in there?”
He stared at me, mouth pressed in a flat line, before jerking his head toward the table. “Go sit.”
With a laugh, I pushed off the counter and started toward the table. I made it only half a step before he snagged me around the waist and tugged me back to him, not stopping until our bodies were pressed together, my hands braced on his bare chest.
“Wait.” He danced his fingers along the hem of my new sundress that hit mid-thigh, dropping his face to nudge the thin strap at my shoulder with his nose. With his lips against my skin, he said, “I like this.”
But he somehow made those three innocuous words sound dirty. Hell,everythingsounded dirty coming from his mouth, especially after three days of nearly nonstop sex. And if we weren’t fucking, he was giving me his sex eyes or whispering all the filthy, depraved things he wanted to do with me while we were supposed to be watching a movie or walking Chuckanut or cooking dinner.
He cupped my chin, tilting my face up toward his. Then he brushed a thumb over my bottom lip just before he captured my mouth with his. Sliding his fingers into my hair, he kissed me slow and deep—so different from the usual way he devoured me, but I was absolutely not complaining. I melted into him, opening my mouth as he slid his tongue against mine, the soft groan that poured out of him sending shock waves straight to my clit. My nipples tightened beneath the fabric of my dress, and my body ached for him already, despite that he’d been inside me not even an hour ago.
Finally, after we were both breathless and I was nearly a puddle of goo against him, Beck pulled back. “Now you can sit.” Then he smacked my ass before turning back to the stove like he hadn’t completely wiped my brain of all thought.
I wanted to shoot a pithy retort back at him, but the truth of it was, it took all I had just to make my way to the table without tripping over my feet like a newborn colt. God, the things this man made me feel.
Would it always be like this with him? This urgency, this need he’d awakened that had only managed to grow in the time we’d been together was unprecedented for me. Was it just because it was new? That magical time in all relationships when everything felt unbelievable? Or was it because it was Beck? Because he’d been my best friend and closest confidant and my rock, first and foremost, and my…whatever he was second?
Beck placed a heaping plate of food and a glass of orange juice in front of me, effectively pulling me out of my thoughts. Then he plated a dish for Chuckanut—the berry egg oatmeal he’d perfected for her—before dishing up himself.
When he sat down perpendicular to me, I raised my brow, then pointedly looked down at my plate where, despite his warning, bacon was piled high on the dish next to a frittata with heirloom tomatoes, spinach, goat cheese, and asparagus. “No bacon, huh? What do you call that?”
He didn’t even glance my way, completely focused on his own breakfast. “The burned pieces. Worse than no bacon at all, if you ask me. I won’t even feed it to Chuck.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. The strips weren’t burned—they were cooked to perfection, crisp and juicy, just how I liked them, and I moaned when the salty goodness melted on my tongue.
Beck’s gaze darted to mine, his eyes heating as I devoured the totally not-burned deliciousness.
I squinted an eye and pointed a finger at him as I chewed. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?”
“Don’t give me that look. Your sex eyes aren’t going to work on me.”
“Sex eyes?”
“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what you do.” I lifted my foot and poked his thigh, but before I could lower it back to the floor, he grabbed it, settling his hand on my ankle and keeping it right in his lap. “We should actually leave the apartment today and do something more than walk on the beach.”
“Then quit moaning at the food I made you like you do when my cock’s in your mouth.”
I huffed out a breath, my pussy tingling at the imagery that evoked. Just last night, I’d slipped from the chair and knelt before him, tugging his cock out of his pants as I showed my appreciation for him turning on another episode ofGossip Girl. I’d intended for it to be all about him, but he’d only lasted a couple minutes in my mouth before he’d had me bent over the chair as he fucked me.
“Beck,” I said, though the admonishment fell flat, considering the breathy tone of my voice.
He shrugged a single shoulder and ran his thumb up the arch of my foot as he took another bite of his breakfast. “It’s the truth.”
