Page 61 of Bound By My Father's Best Friend

“And best of all, you’re mine.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

HEATHER

“Canyou pass me that knife, hon?” Hector said from the other side of the island.

Hon?

My eyes widened slightly as I reached for the knife in the knife block. Water boiled on the stove, and the scent of freshly made pasta sauce drifted through my nostrils.

I grabbed a utensil and handed it to him. “Here you go.”

Where did hon come from? He has never called me that before.

Our fingers skimmed against each other as he took the knife from me. He turned to the sausages to cut them for the pasta with a small smile written across his face, the same warm smile that ached to tug onto my lips.

I turned back to the stove, stirred the pot of penne with a huge wooden spoon, and watched the water bubble. Even after our scene had ended, I still had all the feels about what had happened, how Hector forced me to tell him everything I loved about myself, which wasn’t much. At times, I hadn’t known what to say, and he’d had to fill in.

Warmth spread through my chest. I felt like he could’ve stripped hundreds more clothes off me, and he still wouldn’t have run out of things that he could say—things that I didn’t believe myself, but he did. I rolled my shoulders forward. He really did.

“What’re you thinking about?” Hector said, looking over from the sausage cut.

“Nothing.”

“Heather.”

“Hector,” I said in an amused tone.

Once he set down the knife, he walked over to me and trapped me between him and the counter. I hummed softly and leaned back to look up into his pretty, safe eyes. Who would’ve thought that I’d be making dinner with Hector Patton after he took me to his BDSM club?

Definitely not me.

“Don’t make me ask you again.”

“My thoughts are private.”

“Not when I can read them all over your face.” He wrapped his hands around my thighs, picked me up, and set me on the counter. Then, he stepped between my legs, running his hands up my thighs. “I know that look.”

“What look?” I asked with a smile, playing dumb.

“Thatlook.”

Not really wanting to get into it right now, I grabbed my spoon. “Taste this pasta.”

After picking up some penne on the spoon, I lifted it to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around it and tugged it into his mouth, chewing while his playful gaze was on me. Butterflies fluttered through my chest.

“Did you mean what you said back at Radiant?” I asked in a whisper.

Of course my dumbass had to ask while he was in the middle of chewing.

Once he finished, he placed his hands on the counter beside me. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He paused. “Why?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and stared into his soft eyes, wonderinghowanyone could be so nice to me and really mean it. All the time, my parents compared me to my younger brother, and I always lived in the shadow of his accomplishments.

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