Page 102 of Chasing Forever
She pulls back with a snort. “It doesn’t sound like I satisfied you.”
“So, I guess we’ll need to buy groceries.” I shrug.
She bites her bottom lip, grinning. “I figured. Why don’t I go down and make that apology dinner I promised you?”
“Can I help?”
She slides out from under me and sits up, revealing bare skin that makes my mouth go dry. “Stare all you want. I’m all yours.” Her hand touches my cheek, and she kisses me too damn quickly.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page there.”
She grabs a pillow and throws it at me. I catch it easily, toss it aside, and grab her around the waist, pulling her back down on top of me.
“You’re insatiable,” she says, curling into me again.
“So are you,” I murmur into her hair. “Don’t try to pretend like you don’t want me to slide into you again.”
She presses a kiss to my chest and sighs. “We need to refuel at least. May I borrow a shirt?”
I nod toward my dresser. “Top drawer.”
Lottie slips out of bed, not bothering to cover herself, and my eyes track her. She saunters as though she knows I’m watching. She opens the drawer, rummages for a second, and pulls out a plain gray T-shirt with Sheriff on it. It hangs off one shoulder, barely covers her ass, and I don’t even bother to pretend I’m not ogling her.
“You look good in my T-shirt.” My voice is laced with pure male satisfaction.
“You say that like you’re going to try to take it off me again in twenty minutes.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t bend down to get anything from the fridge.”
She shakes her head and heads for the stairs. I scramble after her, still shirtless, grabbing my sweatpants off the floor.
The house is quiet except for Mack’s tail thumping lazily against the floor as he watches us from the living room rug. He probably came down here when we were all over one another.
Lottie opens the fridge and surveys the contents. “I was doing chicken parm, but that seems like a lot of work right now. How about a quick skillet?” She pulls out eggs and sets them on the counter. “You know, other than the stuff I brought, you have nothing here.”
I shrug. “I’m never home.”
“That might be changing soon.”
“I’m not gonna argue with that.”
She throws me a look over her shoulder that makes my chest ache. I love her so fucking much.
“All right, Sheriff. Grab a skillet, and I’ll beat the eggs.”
She searches cabinets for bowls and plates, and I guide her, resting one hand on her hip, reaching for the items she’s not tall enough to grasp. We kiss one another as we pass. Hands grazing, fingers brushing. A constant tease between the two of us.
And then it hits me.
This is it.
This is what I’ve wanted.
Not just the sex—not just the high of having her scream my name in my bed—but the everyday stuff. The kitchen dance between us. The teasing. The fact that she wears my T-shirt as if it’s hers.
I lean against the counter, content to watch her for a second.
“What are you thinking about?” She side-eyes me as she pours the eggs into the skillet.
