Page 54 of Fractured Rhythm

“Umm, I’ll start cooking now,” I mumbled. I wrenched open the fridge and stood in the cool air. A barely clothed rock star singing to me first thing in the morning was too much—hell, any time it would be too much. I took in a shuddering breath and grabbed what I needed to make breakfast.

“You doing okay in there?” Humor laced his tone.

“Don’t start, Bash, or I’ll burn your French toast.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said with mock outrage before he chuckled.

I’d get him back. We should both be suffering right now.

With that, I bent over to grab something from a low cabinet, knowing full well that my barely covered ass was in his line of sight. His strangled cough confirmed that.

I shot him a smirk over my shoulder when I stood up. His grip on his guitar was tight, and I did an internal fist pump. Two could definitely play at this game.

I slowly made breakfast, making sure to add an extra shimmy of my hips every minute or so while he was playing.

“You got an itch or something?” Bash finally called out.

“What? Nope. Just enjoying the music. Keep playing,” I said, stirring the egg mixture before setting it aside to crush up some Cap’n Crunch cereal. His mom used to make this for us at least once a week. I had tried to spend as much time away from home as I could and always ended up in the kitchen with Bash’s mom. I missed cooking with her so much. It’d been years since I’d stepped foot in Bash’s house. His mom had encouraged my love of cooking and experimenting with different flavors and textures, a skill set that served me well at work.

Maybe this week we could shoot a video for different cereal uses. I grabbed my phone and typed in a note to talk to one of my recipe developers on Monday before I went back to dipping thick slabs of challah bread in the egg mixture and cereal crumbs. I pulled out the blender and filled it with bananas, yogurt, and a little sugar to make the drizzle to go over the perfectly golden French toast.

“That smells amazing,” Bash said, his hand snaking around my waist, and I jumped a mile.

“Shit. You startled me,” I said, the spatula clattering to the floor. Luckily, I’d put the last piece of French toast on the griddle before he’d touched me.

“Sorry,” he said, leaning in and pressing his nose to my nape, nuzzling my overly sensitive skin.

A shiver coursed through me and I couldn’t stop myself from sinking back against him and brushing my ass against his semi-hard cock, which was perking up by the second.

He groaned in my ear; the sound ramping up my desire.

“Go park your ass in that chair so I can finish up,” I said, reaching for another spatula. But my attempt to sound stern failed as he kissed me behind my ear and I moaned.

“Fine. But as soon as we’re done with breakfast, I’m going to have you for dessert,” he said.

I nibbled on my lower lip, trying to ignore the images rolling through my head.

“Stop it,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before he moved away, grabbing plates and silverware.

“Maybe you should put on a shirt.”

“You’re wearing it,” he said with a wink.

I turned away from him and finished making breakfast, my cheeks on fire. What else was new when I was around him?

“This is so damn good. Might even be better than Mom’s, but don’t tell her I said that,” Bash said a few minutes later when we’d finally sat down to eat. He’d already scarfed down one piece and was halfway through his second.

“Thank you. I was thinking about how much I miss cooking with her,” I said.

“We should go home and see her. I know she’d love to get you back in the kitchen. She’s so proud of what you’ve done with school and your job. She’s brought it up more than once when I’ve been home.”

I bit back a sudden rush of tears. His mom had been more of a mom to me than mine ever had, and when Bash had ended it, I hadn’t felt right spending time with his mom. It hurt too much.

He grabbed my hand, linking our fingers and squeezing.

“I’m so fucking sorry about everything, Cas. I’ll find a way to make it all up to you. I promise.”

“It’s not all your fault. I could’ve made an effort to see your parents after everything. They always meant so much to me. But it was too hard.”

---