Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
He chuckled breathlessly, and I heard him disappear into the bathroom. “Absolutely.”
He returned with a towel he’d soaked in warm water, and I shuddered as he cleaned me up.
I made a mental note to leave a stack of towels under the bed. It was our old routine, and it deserved a comeback. I preferred to get off when he was inside me, and he always made me lose my composure so I couldn’t remember to just come in my hand. It was his fault, really.
Plus, he loved it when I made a mess.
“Can I help?”
He smirked to himself as he sliced the eggplant. “Old rules apply, my dear. You’re only allowed to cook when we’re ordering in.”
I laughed and rose from my chair. I couldn’t sit at the kitchen table for two reasons. It was too far away from West, and it was a little too close to the castle Trip was building. If he came back from his movie marathon and found his match creation in shambles, I might as well pack my bags and move out of state.
“I’ll have you know I’ve learned to make some dishes,” I said.
West side-eyed me as I approached. “Is baked ziti with eggplant one of them?”
I felt my forehead wrinkle, and I shook my head.
He nodded once, satisfied, and pointed his knife at the kitchen island. “Then you just sit here shirtless and look pretty for me while I prepare dinner.”
I grinned. Fair enough. I could do that. I jumped up and sat my fine ass on the island, only to wince, ’cause fuck me, I was sore. West moved too. He brought his cutting board and ingredients from his usual spot next to the stove so he could be closer. Then he brought out his phone and found a playlist for us, and I approved. In fact, I recognized it.
“Is this our old cooking playlist?” I had to ask.
He inclined his head and went back to slicing the eggplant. “I haven’t changed it.” He let out a breath and flicked me a brief glance. “Nor have I listened to it much. You kind of took music with you when you moved out.”
I understood him. After our break, music had faded out of my life too. There’d been nothing to celebrate, and I hadn’t wanted music to lift my spirits. Or, the few times I’d tried, music had failed. Instead, it’d become a workout tool. I’d used it to keep my pace up when I went running. I’d used it to distract Ellie. I’d used it to stay angry.
Becoming a part of Liam’s world—and Finn’s and Kellan’s—I’d noticed how much I missed music. As well as the impact it could have on me. Blasting Dropkick was usually a surefire way to get me going, and now…now I knew everything was gonna turn out fine. Nothing was gonna be half-assed or “eh” or “somewhat” or “kinda.” Life was an all-out affair. I wanted to live it fully.
“We will dance again, papi.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek, and he smiled a little. “We’ll have music back in our life.”
His smile softened, and he put down the knife and stepped between my legs. “I like the sound of that.” He kissed me as a new song came on, and it made us both grin. He even turned up the volume. We’d danced to this one before. It was one of those soft rock, feel-good songs, where we’d obviously replaced “her” with “him” when we’d used the kitchen as our arena.
“My life and my thunder,” he murmured into a kiss.
“And I’m never gonna leave.” I deepened the kiss briefly and cupped his face in my hands.
“Swear to me.”
“On my fucking life, baby.” I mirrored his smile and pecked him a few more times, and I started bobbing my head to the beat—
“Um, hellooooo!?”
Oh shite!
We jumped back from each other as if we’d been doing something wrong, and shock ran through me as I threw a glance at the doorway. Fucking perfect. Ellie stood there with her hands on her hips. Trip too. He cocked his head, possibly trying to understand what he’d walked into. Colby followed and stopped short in the wide doorway.
“Uh. Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“Our daddies kissed!” Ellie exclaimed.
Fuck, fuck. West and I exchanged a quick look, and we knew we had to roll with the punches on this one. It wasn’t like we were planning on waiting to tell them about some changes we had to look forward to. But…maybe we’d hoped to discuss those changes first.
I cleared my throat and slid off the counter.
“I suppose we should talk,” West announced. He gestured at the kitchen table. “Children, have a seat, please. Colby, you’re welcome to stay too.”
Was he? Yeah, of course he was. West had all but adopted him at this point.