Page 60 of Something that Could Last

I’m standing over the sink, peeling a potato when I feel warm, strong arms wrap around my waist.

“Hey.” Jacob’s hot breath tickles my ear.

“Hey, yourself.” I try to suppress the tremor that runs through me at the sound of his voice and the feel of his body pressed against my back.

“I’ve been warned to behave myself, so you better give me a job to do so I can keep my hands busy.” I like just how busy his hands are right now. One hand presses against my bare belly, sliding higher and higher towards my breasts while the other anchors me to him, possessively gripping my hip. I let my head fall back and moan.

“Damn it,” he growls against my neck. “You’re making it really hard to follow her rules.” His words break through the lusty fog that has overtaken my brain. My grandmother must’ve given him a talkin’ to while they were outside.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” I begin in the sultriest voice I can muster.

“Mm-hmm,” comes his distracted reply. His lips trail languorously up the side of my neck.

“I really hate peeling potatoes.” I say the words slowly, wondering if they will even register.

His hands and lips freeze, and I try hard to suppress my humor. He steps back a little as I turn to face him. As much as I want his hands all over me, we’ve both been warned. My grandmother could come home at any time, so we have to be careful. I don’t reallywantto deny him, so I’m trying to keep this light and fun.

I hand him the veggie peeler and nod my head towards the heap of unpeeled Idahos on the counter. He smirks at me as I scoot over, letting him take my place. He swats my behind and I yelp in surprise.

“That’s for teasing me,” he says, but eases the sting when he leans down and presses his lips gently to mine.

I smile as I grab a quart Mason jar of canned green beans and open them.

“So, what are we making?” he asks.

“Fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cornbread.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“It is,” I assure him. “All my grandmother’s recipes.” I grab a container of bacon grease from the fridge and add some to the pot for the green beans.

Jacob scrunches his nose as he looks on with a worried expression. “What isthat?”

“This?” I ask, holding up the container. He nods. “It’s just bacon grease. Adds flavor to the beans.” He looks at me like I have three heads. “I’m guessing you’ve never cooked with it before.”

“Never,” he confirms.

He turns back to his task and continues peeling potatoes. A moment later, he leans back and just looks at me, mischief glowing in the icy blue depths of his irises. He stares at me so long, I grow self-conscious under his scrutiny. Finally, he reaches out and lifts the edge of my shirt, glancing first at my back and then at my front. He looks unsatisfied with what he finds there, so he proceeds to bend down and lift the hem of my shorts. His warm fingers trail along my skin, leaving tingling paths wherever he touches me.

“What are you doing?” My curiosity finally gets the best of me.

“Where do you put it?”

“What?” I’m really confused right now. I don’t know what he thinks I’m hiding.

“Where do you put it? The bacon grease, the cornbread, the tub of... whatever that greasy substance is over there.” He motions towards the can of shortening.

“Crisco?”

“Yeah, that.” His hands are on me again, exploring, analyzing, a smile playing on his lips. He begins poking his fingers into my sides, somehow finding the most ticklish spots on my body. “Tell me! I have to know!” he demands playfully. I double over and twist my torso to get out of his grasp, but it’s no use. He’s too strong and too determined. His hands make their way from my hips and up past my armpits, tickling them as he goes before finally zeroing in on my neck, all while I giggle and gasp for breath.

After a moment of torturing the sensitive area behind my ears and along my hairline, he releases me and I step back. His playful smirk makes it hard not to smile. “I hate being tickled,” I inform him, trying my best to scowl, but doing a piss-poor job of it.

“Didn’t look like you were hating ittoomuch.”

His wink and cocky grin do funny things to my stomach. I don’t even realize I’ve begun to pant until he reaches for me and shoves his fingers into my hair. His lips crash down onto mine and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I moan when he presses me against the counter.

“Your body is amazing.” His low voice rumbles in my chest as he runs his hands over damn near every inch of my exposed skin. “I love every part of it.” His whispered breath tickles my ear and I shiver. “I could never choose a favorite.” I hear the smile in his voice.

---