Page 10 of Sticking Around

I chuckle at that. “Here we call it soda.”

“Well, now that you’re officially a Newfoundlander, you can call it pop.”

I turn to him and put my arms around his shoulders. I lift my gaze, because he’s damn tall, and remind him. “I’m not officially a Newfoundlander. I didn’t kiss a real cod.”

He winks. “Close enough.”

“Nope, that’s cheating and lying, and if there is one thing I hate in this world, it’s liars.” I lean into him, my lips close to his, even though I just told myself we couldn’t ever fall into bed together, but hey this is the kitchen so that’s different. Talk about logical thinking at its worst.

He curls his hand through my hair and gently tugs until my lips part. “Look, do you want to kiss a real cod or do you want to take the break I’m giving you.”

“Did you not hear the part about me hating liars?”

“Fair enough. We’ll do the ceremony then.”

“Who says I even want to be an honorary Newfoundlander, anyway?”

“Who wouldn’t want to be?” He shoots out, feigning exasperation. “We’re the best kind of people, duckie.”

I nod. “If you say so. I’ll have to take your word on it since you’re the only Newfoundlander I know.” He arches a brow, waiting for me to add more. I brush my lips over his and whisper, “And for the record, you were the best.”

His grin is wide and playful as he picks me up, sets me on the counter, wraps his big hand around the back of my neck and presses his lips to mine for a mind-numbing kiss full of heat and promise. I widen my legs and he grips my hips, pulling me closer to the edge, and his more than ready cock presses hard against my sex.

Dammit, you can’t do this again, girl.

Just when I’m about to beg him to pick me up and take me back to the bed, my brain registers a beeping sound. I slowly inch back and take in the lust in Brady’s confused eyes, and note the way his chest is rising and falling as he takes deep, labored breaths. I blink, working to clear my own lust and that’s when I clue in. The fridge door is beeping because we left it open.

“Fridge,” I manage to get out as the lust in his eyes turns to laughter.

“Oh, is that what that was? I couldn’t figure it out.” He inches back and I instantly miss the warmth between my legs. He swallows. “I’m thirsty again and since you need to eat and I refuse to take you back to bed to quench it, until you do, I’ll need to drink a pop.”

He emphasizes the word pop and I chuckle. “Grab me a soda, please.”

He lifts a brow, looking less than impressed as he turns to grab two bottles from the fridge. I stare at his perfect backside, unapologetically admiring his body as he cracks the plastic cap on mine before handing it over. I take a long pull from the bottle, and he does the same.

He sets his bottle on the counter and checks the food. “Just about ready. Want to grab the plates and ketchup?” I do as he asks, and also grab some napkins and utensils.

I glance into the other room. “Want to eat in the living room and flick on something?”

“More than anything,” he answers.

“I’ll bring these things in.” I leave the plates and carry our drinks and everything else into the living room. I set them down beside my books and remember that I was supposed to be studying tonight before my upcoming big exam. I guess I can cram tomorrow before work, and I don’t have to make the commute back to my place because I’m staying here for the weekend. I find it so hard to study on the bus.

But staying here another night means Brady will be just a stone’s throw away…again. Is that good or bad? I’m going to go with the latter. I pick up the remote and find some mindless sitcom that we can watch as we eat. I’m about to head back to the kitchen, when Brady appears with two plates full of delicious food.

“Dinner is served.”

He sets the plates on the coffee table and drops down into the sofa, patting the seat beside him. “Right here, Lanie.”

I grin, loving the nickname he gave me. “You got it, Coddy.”

I sit, put my plate on my lap and squirt ketchup all over my food. “Do you want some fish and chips with your ketchup?” he asks, but then goes ahead and covers his with even more ketchup. “You know, in Newfoundland we mostly dip our fries into mayo.”

I crinkle up my nose. “That’s kind of disgusting.”

“It’s actually pretty good.”

“Do you want me to get you some mayo?” I ask.

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