Page 66 of Breaking the Rules
I need more of it.
I let my eyelids flutter closed.
I try to conjure images of me and Hunter. Of his hands on my thighs, his lips on my neck, his cock driving inside me.
But they're wrong now.
Vinnie is always lurking around the corner.
Whispering something about how I want it with that awful vodka-soaked breath.
"Em?" Hunter asks. "What's next?"
"I thought I told you to cut the other chicken breast."
He motions to it, butterflied on the cutting board.
"Oh." I clear my throat. Motion to the meat thermometer sitting on the counter. "We need to get to one sixty-five. Why don't you check it?"
He picks up the meat thermometer. "How do I do that?"
"Slide it inside the thickest part."
"Oh?" He raises a brow.
"Are you allowed to make sex jokes?"
"According to who?"
"I don't know. Are you using your judgment or Brendon's?"
"You want to remind me that your brother wouldn't appreciate it?" he asks.
No. I don't actually. I just… I don't want to need a babysitter. "I'm just looking out for you."
"Oh?"
I take the meat thermometer and demonstrate. "Wouldn't want him kicking you out." It's supposed to be teasing, but it's not. I want him here. I really do.
"I know I'm annoying—"
"Very annoying."
"But I'm just trying to look out for you. Promise."
"What if we have different ideas of what that means?"
"Tell me."
Uh-huh.
"Really."
"I'll think about it."
He flips the chicken and sets the tongs down on a paper towel. "If you'd prefer I skip the dirty jokes—"
"No. Keep the jokes. Just, watch the quality."
