Page 78 of The Kiss Countdown

He goes back to the bacon, and I wash my hands before grabbing a mixing bowl from a lower cabinet to start on the eggs. After cracking, seasoning, and whisking togetherfive, I glance at Vincent, and he makes no attempt to hide the fact he was checking out my ass. It’s dangerous to be within touching distance when he looks at me like that. It makes me want to forget all about sustenance and hop back in bed.

“Stop it,” I say.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like you’re picturing me naked.”

He takes his time sweeping me from head to toe, then smirks. “I am picturing you naked. And you were the one ogling my goodies first.”

I roll my eyes and join Vincent at the stove, where he’s just set a skillet to medium heat. He hands me a red rubber spatula before taking his pan to the counter. It’s all seamless and methodical, like we’ve done this a hundred times.

Between folding and stirring the eggs, I watch as Vincent transfers the bacon to a plate lined with paper towels, then wipes down the pan.

“What’s that smile for?” he asks.

“On the rare weekend my dad was off, he and Mom would make breakfast together.” I take the eggs to the kitchen island, dividing our portions between the plates Vincent has laid out. “I guess cooking with you makes me think of good times. The only thing missing is the stereo blasting some old-school R and B.”

“I got you.” Vincent picks up the plates and begins belting out some Tyrese.

I hold up my hand. “Yeah, no. Immediately, no.”

Vincent places a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Mimi.”

“Look, we’ve already established you can’t be perfect at everything, and obviously singing isn’t in your wheelhouse.”

I walk to the coffee maker. After I set one cup under the nozzle to be filled, Vincent eases behind me and encircles my waist. His body is flush against my back.

“Surely I make up for the bad singing in other ways,” he says huskily.

I swallow as his hand slips under my shirt and he caresses my stomach. “I’ll admit you have a few things going for you. I’ve heard you’re a pretty good teacher.” He cups my breasts, and my nipples immediately come to attention from the heat of his hands seeping through the thin material of my sports bra. “You’re pretty good with your hands. You healed my ankle well enough.”

He pinches my nipples. “Go on.”

My body is throbbing. How in the world can I want him again so soon? “Well, you do have a pretty big... science lab.”

He chuckles. “Indeed, I do.”

“Vincent.” I half gasp, half groan when he takes my earlobe in his mouth. “I just came from outside. I’m sweaty and need to shower.”

He doesn’t heed my warning, so I’m not going to waste my breath protesting when what he’s doing feels too good. His hand dips into my pants and under my panties, his thumb pressing down on me. I moan and throw my head back against his chest while his fingers work me over. If I could stand here and have him touch me like this for hours, I would. But within mere minutes, the pressure of an orgasm builds and explodes, and I’m falling apart in his arms.

Vincent doesn’t let go, holding me close while I come down from the high. “Coffee’s ready,” he says after a while.

I straighten my shirt and turn around. Using Vincent’s shoulders as leverage, I reach up and kiss him, then smirk.“You meanyourcoffee’s ready. I’m making a fresh cup for myself.”

He grumbles but takes his coffee to the table while I prepare more. When we both finally sit in front of now cool plates, I find myself uncharacteristically shy. It’s the morning after, followed by a welcome morning encore. What is there to be self-conscious about? I tip my chin up and meet his gaze.

“Good eggs,” he remarks, looking way too proud for my liking.

I narrow my eyes, then shake my head. I’ll let him have this moment. If a smug Vincent is the price for tasty bacon and an earth-shattering orgasm, I’ll gladly pay it.

My mood is so high I must be taking up all the space on cloud nine as I watch the baby shower wrap up.

My first event. I did it.

The mom-to-be glows in her baby-blue gown as her friends and family hug her on their way out.

“Make sure you take one of the centerpieces,” Ms. Katrina shouts across the room at a guest daring to leave empty-handed. Another reason I love Ms. Katrina—she knows how to clear a table. She’s of the mind that centerpieces should be taken home for the guests to remember how much fun they had. In this case, the guests get to take home vintage tan teddy bears wearing white suspenders, which were placed in a wicker basket with mini blue, gold, and white balloons. It took hours to get the bears positioned correctly to look like they’re in hot-air balloons, but seeing everyone’s reactions when they saw them made it more than worth it.

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