Page 44 of When We Break

“Thank you for inviting us.” I lean back against him, soaking in his strength, his warmth. He feels so damn good, I could stand here like this all night long. “Can I help you make dinner?”

“No, ma’am.” He kisses me once more, then leads me to the island, pulls out a stool, and helps me onto it. “You sit here and talk to me while I cook.”

“What are you making?”

Beckett grabs a clean towel out of a drawer by the sink, tosses it over his shoulder, and then pulls a knife out of a block and fetches vegetables out of the refrigerator.

“Wait, before I start,doyou have any allergies?” He leans against the counter, watching me.

“No. No allergies. I don’t like mussels, but aside from that, I’ll eat just about anything.”

“How does roasted chicken with asparagus, carrots, and rice sound?”

“Like I’m at a restaurant.” I grin at him. “Seriously, what can I do to help? I’m not too bad in the kitchen myself.”

He narrows his eyes at me, making me shiver. Between everything he’s generously bought for Riley, his soft kisses, and now beckoning me with a wicked gleam in his eye, I’m a mess of need.

“Come here, Irish.”

With pleasure, Beckett.

ChapterEleven

BECKETT

She circles the island, her lips curved in a sassy smile that has my cock twitching.

“Tell me how I can help. I don’t want to sit over there and watch. Let me in on the action.”

I tip up an eyebrow and brush my fingers through her thick, red hair. “Oh, I plan to give you some action, Irish.”

She laughs, wrinkles her nose, then bounces on her feet. Unable to resist her, I lean in and kiss her on the head before I cross to the fridge.

“I have the chicken ready for the oven, so that part is easy.” I even had the oven warming while I went into town to get her, so I take the pot out of the fridge and slip it into the waiting oven.

“I love a man who plans ahead.”

“If I don’t plan, I don’t eat. Because by the time I get back from working a full day on this farm, nothing would be ready. Now, we just need to get the vegetables and rice going while that cooks.”

“I’m excellent with a knife.”

“Okay, you chop, then.” I pass Skyla the knife. Our fingers brush as she takes it from me and bites that plump lower lip. “I’d like a bite of that.”

“Of wha?—”

I swoop down and kiss her, pull her lower lip between my teeth, then soothe it with my tongue and kiss her some more.

“Mmm, delicious.”

“What brought that on?”

“I’m a jealous man, Irish. You bit that lip, and I needed my share.”

With her eyes on mine, she swipes her tongue over that lip and hums as if she can still taste me there.

Christ, at this rate, we won’t make it through dinner.

“Why don’t you have any music on in here?” she asks, turning her attention to cutting the tie off the bunch of asparagus.

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