Page 53 of Smith

The soft look of pride cleared and we were back to business.

“No letter, and before you ask, Kira checked. Neither Brittney or George put in for mail forwarding.”

“Way to crush my hopes and dreams,” I mumbled. “Though I will take this opportunity to point out, the letters were innocuous. ‘I know’ is hardly a threat.”

He looked like he was going to argue but instead he pinched his kissable lips and craned his neck to look over his shoulder.

“If Aria’s done, her phone’s downstairs ringing,” Cooper’s voice rumbled from semi-faraway. “Caller ID says Captain.”

“Her dad,” Smith returned. “We’ll be right down.” When Smith turned back he turned into bossy Smith. “Talk to your dad, but before you do, tell me where the trash bags are. I’ll clean up in here. If you’re done for the day we’ll head back to my place, call it an early night.”

I wasn’t sure if ‘early night’ was code for getting busy or if it was his way of nicely telling me I looked exhausted. Which I probably did. It wasn’t like I was used to back-to-back nights of incredible sex into the wee hours of the morning only to be woken up and treated to more orgasms. If I was keeping track, which I wasn’t, but it was still a good guess, I’d had more orgasms in the last two days then I’d had in the last two years combined.

“We ate all the leftovers last night,” I reminded him. “We have to stop at the store on the way home.”

I wasn’t prepared for the shutters to slam shut and Smith’s expression to blank at the mention of leftovers.

“We’ll order in.”

Flat. Void. Strange.

“It’s my turn to cook.”

If it was possible, my suggestion made Smith’s blank expression turn empty.

What in the world?

“I can cook,” I rushed to tell him. “It won’t be chicken piccata but it’ll be edible.”

Just as fast as he’d shut down, Smith flipped back on and smiled. And when he did, he tagged me around the back of the neck, and hauled me close. When he had me where he wanted me his lips hit mine in a hard, closed-mouth kiss. This maneuver had me dazed and confused and his words only added to that.

“You worked all day, I’ll cook.”

With another hard press of his lips to mine he let me go.

“Trash bags,” he ordered.

Gah, if he wasn’t so freaking hot I’d tell him where he could shove those trash bags.

“It’s a good thing you’re so good with your mouth and your fingers and your dick and you’re hot or your orders would piss me off,” I informed him.

I watched up close as he busted out laughing.

He was still chuckling when he informed me back, “Yeah, baby, it’s good to be me.”

“Wrong, Sailor, it’s good to beme.”

Smith dropped his hand, found mine, and pulled me out of the bathroom. This meant he was still holding my hand when we hit the kitchen where everyone congregated. This also meant we were met with wide eyes and strange smiles.

Before Smith let me go he gave my hand a squeeze.

I read his silent question and told him, “In the garage, by the side door.”

Smith’s departure left me standing in a room with his friends all staring at me like I had five arms and six eyes.

“What?” I asked the room at large.

“Nothing,” Jonas lied.

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