Page 122 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“Fair enough,” she says, turning back to her dinner. “This really is incredible. I think you’re going to need to cook for me more often.”

“I’m sure we can make that happen. I usually batch cook for myself once a week. Maybe I can do some for you, too.”

“I do that, too.”

“Batch cook?”

“Yeah, it helps ensure I’m eating well even when I work late. It’s too easy to order in otherwise.”

“Yeah,” I agree, my mind drifting to images of us standing side by side in a kitchen, batch-cooking up a storm together while her Christmas tree twinkles in the corner.

I can’t think of anything more perfect.

35

SIENNA

“I’ll clean up before dessert,” Calvin says, pushing his chair back as he reaches for his plate.

“No,” I cry, also standing up. “You’ve already done enough. Go and sit down. I’ll just load the dishwasher, and I’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”

“I didn’t do this with the intention of making a mess in your apartment.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Ignoring me, he continues to walk to my kitchen, although I don’t miss the way his limp is more pronounced than it was earlier.

“Is your knee hurting?” I ask, following him.

“It’s okay,” he lies.

“Calvin, go and sit down.”

He turns to look at me, his eyes blazing just like they were earlier when he noticed I was wearing his hoodie.

“I like it when you get all bossy,” he rasps, his eyes rolling down the length of my body, lingering on my bare legs for long seconds.

“Then be a good boy and go and sit down.”

His nostrils flare as he rubs the back of his neck. “Goddamn, woman.”

I raise my brows when he doesn’t make a move to do as he’s told.

“Go,” I say, shooing him away.

Eventually, he retreats to the couch, choosing the spot that will allow him to watch me as I tidy up.

He watches my every move, and I don’t feel it more than when I’m bending over, loading the dishwasher.

“Giving you that hoodie was the best thing I’ve ever done,” he says while my ass is in the air. “Are you wearing anything beneath it?”

I guess that answers my question of whether he can see everything or not.

“I couldn’t possibly tell you that,” I tease.

He groans, and when I stand up again and glance back, he’s dragging his hand down his face.

“I might let you find out, though,” I taunt.