Page 228 of Vegas Heat

He lifts a shoulder. “My mom’s a good cook, which is why I feel like I should order in. I never learned how, and I want to impress her.”

“Don’t you think she’d be more impressed that her son and his girlfriend cooked for her?” I press.

“Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “And pumpkin pie.”

“Right. We can totally do this. It’s only like ten dishes plus the turkey.” I lost count, but I’m trying to minimize how much work this is actually going to be.

“Do you know how to cook?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. But you’re never too old to learn.” I glance over at him and study him for a beat. “Well, maybe you are.”

“Hey!” he protests, and he reaches over and grabs my knee in the exact right spot that sends me into cackles.

Yeah…this is going to be fun.

CHAPTER 14: COOPER

She is incredible.

Truly.

In every way.

My refrigerator is filled with all the items we need to make our Thanksgiving dinner a total success, the guest bedrooms are ready for occupancy, and I’m lying back in total relaxation after she just swallowed my come, my own breath hot with the tang of her pussy.

And it’s not just that we finished a round of top-notch sex a minute ago, but it’s the fact that all the small tasks that I needed to accomplish before my family came to visit got done…and we hadfundoing them.

That’s part of what I’ve found with Gabby: fun.

My last relationship was never fun. It was a chore. It was avoidance and dread, and the more I’m able to look at it with the ability of hindsight, the more I see how wrong Stacy and I always were for each other.

With Gabby, it’s light and easy. We’ve had our hard times, and certainly there will be even harder times ahead, but I feel sofreewhen we’re together—ironic since I’m not free at all but instead I’m wrapped around her finger.

She just has this way about her that’s fucking addictive.

“When does their flight get in again?” she asks on a yawn. She’s settled into my side, her head on the nook of my shoulder and my arm around her.

My fingers flex on her arm, and I lean up to glance at the clock. “About an hour. We have maybe twenty minutes before we need to get dressed and head out the door.”

“K. I’m just gonna take a quick nap.”

She’s asleep maybe twelve seconds later, and I thought she was just kidding.

Moving as little as possible so as not to disturb her, I lean back so I can look at her. My view is from an odd angle—the slide of her nose, the tops of her lashes—and somehow even from here there’s a simple beauty about her. It’s in the way she can just be. Whatever we’re doing doesn’t have to be loud and flashy. Instead, she knows how to be quiet and understated, a quality the women in my previous relationships just didn’t have. A quality I’ve fallen for in a way that terrifies me.

I let her sleep until we have to get dressed, and I spend the time studying her as the overwhelming feelings rush through my chest. I didn’t know something like this could exist, and it would be absolutely perfect if we just didn’t have to keep hiding.

But we do.

And the tragedy in that slices through me.

I order a car big enough to carry my entire family back to my place, and she comes with me.

On the way to the airport, she reaches over and grabs my hand in the backseat. “You’re quiet.”

I look over at her, one side of my mouth tipping up in a smile. “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Her eyes soften and even get a little misty, and she squeezes my hand where she holds it. “I love you, too.”

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