Page 52 of Summoning the Orc

“I can help,” I told him as I grated cheese. “I’m actually a really good cook. It’s just that I haven’t been able to display my full culinary prowess because you keep distracting me with your sexy body.” I finished my explanation with a glare—because it wasallhis fault.

He snorted out a laugh and shook his head, dropping the dough onto the floured surface of the island and beginning to knead. “If it means that I can fuck you on every surface of our home all day long, my Becca, I’m willing to starve,” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes, but gave a little wiggle of pleasure at his words.

“Wait until you taste my ziti,” I told him, waving the spoon that I was using to stir the sauce in his direction. “It’s life-changing. I got it off the back of a box,” I said with a nod. “And then I made it yummier by adding evenmorecheese.”

“Not yummier than you,” he grumbled, but I heard him and moved over then up on tiptoe until I could press a kiss to his flour-dusted cheek.

He swatted my ass as I shimmied away and I giggled up a storm. I couldn’t remember ever having so much fun while cooking. It was a chore that I enjoyed doing, but theprocesswas never what I was interested in. It was the product.

Being with him in the kitchen reminded me of when I would sit in the kitchen with Pen’s mother on weekends when I stayed over at their house. The kitchen had become a safe haven where I could learn and explore. Books were the next best thing,but nothingquitebeat those hours where I’d spent the time pretended she wasmymom, too, and I belonged to the family.

Peeking over at Rok, I realized that that was exactly what we were becoming. He was my family now. We were filling the void that existed in our lives with each other. And I was determined to make the kitchen a fun place for him.

I mixed the meat sauce, cheese and pasta into the two huge ceramic dishes and stood back with a grin, sending a wolf-whistle Rok’s way. He turned with his eyebrows lifted.

“Hey, handsome, can you bring that fine ass over this way and help a girl out?” I asked him with a playful pout, cocking my hip and leaning onto the counter before turning to give him a prime side-view of my ass. “I’d bereallygrateful.”

He blinked at me, his lips parted in shock, his gaze going to my ass and then my face multiple times before he gave a slow, confused nod. I smothered my laugh as he shuffled over, his hands going straight for my ass.

“Uh uh,” I pulled away, pressing a hand to my chest and pointing the other to the dishes. “Those. They have to go into the oven,” I told him with a pout before stroking my hand up his firm, muscular arm. “And I need thestrongestmale to do it.”

He puffed out his chest—not that he needed to, he was alreadymassive—and grabbed the dishes as if they didn’t weigh a ton. I moved over, bending to the oven and giving him a prime look at my breasts.

“Right in here,” I told him, my grin salacious.

He deposited the dishes inside the industrial-sized oven and then reached for my breasts. I jumped away with a gasp.

“That’s not very gentleorcly,” I told him with a tsk. “It’s all about,” I added, stroking my finger down his chest and abs, giving him my most sultry look from under my lashes. “The wait. Patience is a virtue,” I finished with a solemn nod.

“Patience?” he asked, licking his lips as he watched my fingerslide lower before ending with a firm tap to his already-swollen cock. He flinched at the movement and then gave me anare you seriouslook.

I repeated the serious nod, then moved over to where he was working on his…dessert. There didn’t seem to be much in terms of chocolate or sweetness happening, but he was layering apples to the bottom of a dish, so that was something.

“Didyouneed help with anything?” I asked, leaning down to inhale the crisp scent of apples. While I was lowered over the dessert, I swung my ass from side to side. I peeked over my shoulder to see my mate standing right behind me, his lips parted as he stared down at me with awe and lust blazing in his eyes. “I want to make sure you haveeverything—” I murmured, leaning forward a little more until my ass pressed against him, “—you need.”

The low growl in his throat as he reached for me made me squeak and I spun around to slap my palm against his chest. “Uh uh. No hanky panky while we’re cooking,” I gasped, as if appalled by his behavior.

He frowned, but then I winked at him and it eased into a smile. “Am I not allowed to touch you, yet?” he asked in a low whisper, and I grinned, nodding. “Only looking for now?” I nodded again and he gave a soft, resigned grunt. “Then you should strip for me.”

It was my turn to gape at him before I threw my head back on a laugh. He gathered me into his arms, tipping my chin back to press a kiss to my lips.

“I’mnotstripping for you before dinner,” I gasped, turning back to the dessert. “Because we’ll forget all about it and spend the night here.”

It was true. When I got my hands and lips on him, I lost track of time. It was why I’d had to ban morning sex until we were a little more in control. I’d almost been late to work three timesbefore I pulled the plug.

“But you can show me how to make this. What’s it called and where’d you learn it?” I moved back to his dessert and sniffed the apples again, closing my eyes in pleasure.

“It’s called turr,” he explained, starting his own layering process. First apples—and I sighed with relief when he added honey—then a thin layer of dough that he spread with his huge, flat palms. “And I learned with my grandmother—my peetamu. She showed me how before she showed my amu,” he said, his expression smug, and my heart melted for him.

“Which knife did you use?” I asked him, leaning down to look at the apple slices.

He frowned, shaking his head before lifting one of the knives he used in battle from the side of the counter. I watched with horror as he made quick work of slicing an apple to demonstrate.

“Did youwash it?” I gasped.

“Of course I did,” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t want blood to get into the food.”

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