Page 89 of Wicked Sin

“That was wild,” she murmurs.

“Very.” I kiss her softly. “I’m sorry about before.”

“Me too.”

I close my eyes and sink into the bone-deep satisfaction of having just fucked, and fucked well.

28

Taylor

Monday morning,Luke is up before dawn. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’m heading out to have coffee with Sarah McBride. I’ll bring breakfast back with me.”

I wonder if I won’t be able to sleep without him next to me, but I roll over and snuggle into his pillow, and the scent of him quickly drags me back into slumber.

When I wake up again, he’s back and sitting at the end of the bed, holding a brown paper bag.

“What’s that?” I ask groggily, rubbing my eyes.

“Banana split supplies.”

“For breakfast?”

“Why not?”

I can’t think of a single reason. “I’m up.”

After I pee and brush my teeth, I find him downstairs. It’s a familiar, happy feeling now, skipping down the stairs to find him in the kitchen.

Downright homey, I hear my mother sneering in my head.

She wouldn’t know, of course, and she can’t intrude here.

“Okay, I’m here to help,” I say.

He turns around, clapping his hands together decisively. “You want a banana split, princess, you get the world’s best.”

“The world’s best? That’s cocky. I’ve had some amazing desserts. Including the banana split at—”

He raises an eyebrow as I cut myself off, and an uncomfortable heat crawls up my neck. His eyebrow curves exponentially higher when he realizes I’m embarrassed. “Where?”

“The White House,” I mutter. And it was a flirtation point between me and the target of my most embarrassing affair. Not my finest hour.

But Luke doesn’t blink when he gets the dirty truth from me. Maybe that’s why I give it to him. Even if I’m embarrassed about my past, and I am—oh God, I am, more and more each day—he doesn’t judge me for it.

“But you’ve never had The Luke.” He smirks deliberately. “Now I’m going to need some assistance.”

“Oh. I see,” I smirk right back. Sparring is a good, safe ground to retreat to. “You needhelp, but sure, this is going to be thebest ever.”

He hands me the brown paper bag.

“I’ve got full confidence in you, detective,” I say dryly.

“If my lovely assistant wouldn’t mind unloading the groceries while I get started,” he says as he opens a cupboard and pulls out a jar of sugar.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind.” I’m grinning now.

“I’ll take the pineapple juice first.”

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