Page 76 of Burned & Bound

He didn’t know how to cook meat either.

“I do,” I said.

“See!” She gestured to me. “At least he knows how to cook vegetables.”

“I don’t know how to cook at all,” Jackson told her.

“He doesn’t,” I agreed. “He burns the shit out of everything.”

“Remember when I burned down one of the ranch houses?” he asked, chucking.

“Jesus fuck.” My lips twitched slightly with the memory. “Weren’t you making s’mores or some shit?”

“Popcorn,” he corrected. “At least I was trying to. Sprayed the cooking oil right into the pan—”

“Which was sitting on an open fire, right… you’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

“Was.”

“Still are.”

“How in the world are you two boys still alive at this point?” Mrs. Harris asked.

“Well, a bull ain’t killed me yet—”

“Oh, don’t you even say that!” she interrupted. “What an unsavory thing to say. Now, come on. I’m going to teach you a thing or two about side dishes.”

She grabbed the corner of his cart and used it to drag Jackson along with her.

“You too, West!” she called over her shoulder. “Someone has to make sure he eats some real food every once in a while. Your mama would be so disappointed in you, Jackson! Eating like that. Maybe I should give Magnolia a call.”

“No!” Jackson exclaimed. “Don’t you dare tell on me to my mama. That’s just rude.”

I trailed after them, hands in my pockets, as Jackson took the brunt of her attention so I didn’t have to. He’d never understand just how much I appreciated that. I couldn’t put that shit into words.

I had to make six steaks for dinner. Why? Because Jackson did have twenty fucking pounds of venison in his freezer. We ran out of room. I had to cook extra shit and make some for the dog to get rid of it.

Not that we ate all six steaks—though, it was disturbing just how much food this man could put away. Some of it got packed away for later. He was never allowed to just wander a fucking grocery store again. We’d end up with more shit than I knew what to do with.

Dinner led to hanging out on his porch talking while he tossed a ball for Tess. We talked about stupid shit—the dumb things we’d done growing up, ridiculous town gossip I’d missed out on, and the four marriage proposals he’d gotten from the same woman in town over the years.

I let him do the talking as much as possible. I liked listening to him, but I also had nothing real positive to say. It was blatantly obvious that we’d lived wildly different lives. His life had been full of adventures. Mine had been filled with a whole lot of bad.

As always, at the end of the night, he kissed me. Only this time, it didn’t feel like a simple good night kiss. His tongue slipped past my lips and he gently walked me backward until I hit a wall. The weight of his body was heavy against mine, and I was all too aware of how his hips pressed into me.

My dick was too. It thickened until it was strained against the zipper of my jeans. Every kiss and every touch shot straight to my cock.And when his hips rolled against mine—the ridges of his dick pressing into mine?

Fuck, I liked that too.

“Do you trust me?” Jackson asked, his breath warm against my face. I nodded as the words caught in my throat. “I need to hear you say it, baby. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” I rasped.

“Do you trust me to stop if you tell me to?” he continued. I swallowed hard as my mind fought my anxiety.

Jackson would never hurt me.

“Yeah,” I repeated. He kissed me again, his lips gentle against mine. As he did, he ran his palm over the front of my jeans. The explosion of sensations was an onslaught to my senses. He did it again, and I groaned, my knees damn near giving out. His mouth skated along my jaw, and his teeth scraped against my scruff while my head tipped back against the wall.

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