Page 25 of Forbidden Desires

The second one arrives right after, from Pete.

Pete:

And bacon.

A flutter dances in my chest. I haven't seen either of them since my date with Dexter a few nights ago. Things at the museum have been crazy—which loosely translates into the muse struck and I had to follow the rabbit down the hole. They’ve been texting, but I haven’t been the best at getting backto them, responding only sporadically and usually late at night . But today, they're coming over.

And apparently, they're cooking for me.

Before I can even process what that means—two gorgeous men in my kitchen, making breakfast—a knock sounds at the door. I jump out of bed, throw a sweater over my sleep-shirt and pull open the door. Dexter stands there with a grin, his arms loaded with grocery bags.

"Morning, sunshine!" he says, breezing past me and heading straight for the kitchen like he's done this a thousand times.

Pete follows behind him with a quieter smile, but something about it makes my heart feel full and warm. "Hope you're ready to eat."

I step aside, watching them unload like some sort of dream I might wake up from. Dexter rifles through the cabinets, grabbing bowls and spoons like he's lived here forever. Pete's careful and deliberate, placing everything on the counter in a neat little line. Eggs, flour, bacon, milk, chocolate chips.

"You brought chocolate chips?" I ask, tilting my head.

Dexter winks. "Pancakes taste better with chocolate. Everyone knows that."

Pete smirks as he starts laying strips of bacon on a pan. "He'll tell you it's science, but really, he just likes eating like a five-year-old."

I laugh, despite myself, leaning against the counter. It's strange how easy it feels—like we've done this a hundred times before. Dexter hums as he mixes batter, and Pete works efficiently at the stove, the smell of bacon filling the room.

When Dexter flips the first pancake, he shoots me a playful look. "You know, we could make you help instead of letting you stand there, looking cute."

"Oh, no," I say, grinning. "I'm the guest. I thought the whole point was for you guys to impress me."

Pete shakes his head, amused. "You've got it all figured out, huh?"

"Obviously."

The smell of food is warm and comforting, and the easy banter between the three of us feels... right. It's like the missing puzzle piece I didn't even know I was looking for. Dexter sets a stack of pancakes on the counter, and I push off to grab a plate—but just as I take a healthy inhale, the scent of the dough fills the air around us.

My stomach rolls violently.

I swallow hard, blinking back the wave of nausea. No. Not now.

"Everything okay?" Pete's voice cuts through the fog in my head, soft with concern.

"Yeah." I force a smile. "Just... dizzy for a second."

Dexter frowns, setting down the spatula. "Come sit down, Suzie. You probably just need some breakfast."

I nod and shuffle to the table, doing everything I can to appear normal. But the nausea twists harder, making my hands tremble. I grip the edge of the chair, silently willing my stomach to settle.I don’t want to throw up with them here. That will bring up questions I’m not ready to answer.

Dexter drops to a crouch beside me, his blue eyes scanning my face. "You sure you're okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," I lie through my teeth. "Probably just too hungry."

Pete's at my side in an instant, pressing a cool hand to my forehead. "You're clammy."

I bat his hand away with a shaky laugh, before taking a seat. "Guys, seriously. It's nothing. I just need a minute."

They exchange a look—one of those wordless conversations that only people close to each other can have. And then, without waiting for my protest, Dexter is sliding a glass of water into my hand while Pete pulls out the chair next to me and sits down.

"You're not getting out of this that easily. And you're not getting rid of us, either," Dexter says, his grin soft but determined.

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