I glance up.
Color floods hercheeks.
Fuck.
I straighten slowly, forcing myself to step back before I do something reckless like carry her upstairs and spend the rest of the night buried inside her.
My dick hardens again, agreeing with that idea. I was as hard as a rock the entire time I knelt between her legs. And I still ache for her.
“You hungry?” I ask roughly.
“A little.”
Good.Food. Something normal. Domestic. And safe.
Definitely safer than staring at her mouth while remembering the sounds she made in that bathroom.
I head toward the kitchen before I completely lose my mind.
Behind me, I hear her soft laugh. “You walk like you’re mad at the floor.”
“Maybe I am.” I flash her a teasing smile over my shoulder.
“That seems unhealthy.”
She’s smiling. Relaxed. Happy.
And somehow that affects me more than anything that happened in the bathroom.
I turn away before she notices, and pull ingredients from the fridge while Peyton hops onto one of the stools at the island.
“What are you making?”
“Pasta.”
Her brows rise. “It’s awesome that you cook.”
I shrug. “I’d starve otherwise.” My eyes meet hers. “I’m not like Connor. He can’t cook worth a damn. He once burned ramen noodles.”
A laugh escapes her, the sound filling the room.
“Poor Allie. Ihope she can cook.”
I nod. “I think he’s gotten better. She’s shown him a few things. Before her, his mom and sisters did it all, so he never learned.”
I start a pan on the stove while she watches me quietly.
“Makes sense.”
The cabin feels different tonight. Softer somehow. Warmer. Like the walls themselves are settling around us.
“You’re staring again,” I mutter.
Her face flushes. “Sorry.”
I shouldn’t ask, but I do anyway. “What are you thinking about?”
Her fingers curl around the sleeve of the sweater she’s still wearing. The one with a wet spot where we tried to dab the coffee.
