Page 115 of Their Wicked Ways

Ez huffed out a soft laugh at my enthusiasm. “Maybe not right now. But soon. I have a feeling we’ll never get breakfast if we start the fun again.”

“Probably not,” I agreed.

Ez patted my ass. “How about you two get some pants on, get cleaned up, and come to the table?”

“We’ll be right there.” Wes leaned up and accepted the quick kiss Ez gave him.

My face flushed hot again when he pressed a soft kiss to my lips next.

In a bit of a daze, I got out of bed and put on the sweatpants Wes handed me.

We took turns in the bathroom, and my heart skittered a bit when I saw the new toothbrush and new stick of deodorant that had been set out for me.

When I was cleaned up, I made my way to the kitchen, still not quite believing that I was here, with them, about to have breakfast after spending the night together.

“Holy shit,” I exclaimed when I saw what was waiting for us on the table.

Bowls of cut fruit and yogurt sat next to a plate of what looked like breakfast burritos wrapped in foil. Each of the three place settings had a glass of ice water and a steaming mug in front of it.

My morning meal usually consisted of cereal and fruit or toast and eggs if I was feeling fancy. Most days I had to graba breakfast sandwich on my way to work to make sure I had enough food in me to last until our break.

Was this typical for them, or was it because I was here?

Wes put one hand on my back to steer me toward one of the chairs. I sat, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

“What’s up?” Ez asked, settling on the chair next to me.

“Nothing.” I pushed my hair back from my face.

“Are you sure?” Wes sat across from me.

“Yeah. I’m just not much of a cook. I’m not used to seeing real food in the mornings.”

Ez chuckled and picked up his mug. “That was the one skill my parents insisted on teaching me.”

“Cooking?”

He nodded and took a quick sip of his drink. “My mother had me in the kitchen with her starting when I was ten, and my dad taught me all his secrets when I was in high school.”

“Your dad cooks?” I peered into the mug in front of me. Was that hot chocolate?

“He does. Especially now that he’s retired. He loves it. He’s always inviting us over for dinner or afternoon tea so we can help them eat whatever he’s spent the day making.”

“And we always get sent home with a ton of leftovers.” Wes put one of the wrapped burritos on his plate.

I accepted the one Ezra held out to me.

“That’s got eggs, peppers, onions, mushrooms, and sausage in it,” he said. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sounds great.” Carefully, I peeled the wrapping off the burrito.

We didn’t talk much while we ate, but it didn’t feel strained or awkward. The silence was comfortable, companionable. I couldn’t remember the last time I was able to just sit in silence with people and not spend the whole time in my head freaking out about what they were thinking or why they weren’t talking.

When the food was gone and our bellies were full, I had another moment of panic.

Were they going to kick me out now that they fed me? Or maybe they were waiting for me to leave, and I was too dense to see it?

“Do you have anything you need to do today?” Ez asked, finishing off the last of his water.

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