Page 106 of Yours to Lose
“You’re going to love it. Now, are you hungry? I see that none of my children have bothered to feed you.” She glances around the room, giving all four of us an accusatory stare.
Jo snickers. “I’m fine, really. It’s late, and I’m sure you’ll want to go to sleep.”
My mom waves that away. “When my whole family is together, sleep is never a priority. And it’s good, actually, that they didn’t feed you because I have a little something planned. Someone mentioned to me that you have an affinity for breakfast food.”
Jo turns back to me, and I just smile and shrug, knowing there’s no stopping my mom once she gets an idea in her head.
“I love breakfast. Who doesn’t?”
“Indeed.” My mom gives a satisfied nod. “Well, we’re having midnight breakfast.”
I feel my grin spreading. Midnight breakfast is a long-standing Wyles tradition. It started one winter night when we were in elementary school. It was snowing, and my brothers and I were bouncing off the walls since they were calling for a blizzard, and school was already cancelled for the next day. My mom came downstairs and declared that we were celebrating with breakfast for a second dinner. She ordered us each to make something, and that was the night midnight breakfast was born. Ever since then, we always have midnight breakfast for special nights and times when we need a little bit of a celebration. It makes me happy that my mom decided tonight was that kind of night.
I think it is too.
“Fuck yes,” Noah says, hopping off his stool. “I’m making the waffles. I kill at waffles.”
“He really does,” my mom tells Jo, and then she starts ordering everyone around. “El, you’re making pancakes. Rob, my love, do your hash brown mastery. Jordan, you’re on omelets.”
“Wait, I have to cook? Aren’t I a guest here?” I say it mostly to get a rise out of my mom, and I am not disappointed. She arrows a fiery gaze in my direction.
“I’m sure I didn’t just hear you call yourself a guest. None of my children are guests in my kitchen, and when we’re having midnight breakfast, everyone cooks.”
“What about Cooper? He doesn’t have to cook.”
My mom heaves a long-suffering sigh, and Jo snickers. “Cooper could burn water.”
“Hey!” Cooper exclaims, like it’s news to him that he’s the world’s worst cook.
She turns to my youngest brother. “I love you, baby, but you’re banned from doing anything resembling cooking. I’m not interested in a visit from the fire department tonight. Set the table, handle drinks, get out all the pancake and waffle toppings, and stay the hell away from the stove.”
“What should I do?” Jo asks. “I’m not the best cook, but I know my way around a kitchen. Kind of.”
“You really are a guest, which means we are going to let all these men of mine handle everything, and you and I are going to have a mimosa and watch the show.”
Jo leans back into me, and I can feel her grin again. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”
And it is.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
JORDAN
The first thing I hear when I walk into my childhood bedroom is the sound of the shower running.
I close and lock the door, my mouth turning up in a smile as I strip off my clothes on the way to the bathroom. The door is open a crack, and when I push it open the rest of the way, my mouth goes dry at the same time my cock turns to steel because Jo is standing in front of the mirror, both arms raised as she ties up her hair. She’s naked but for a bra so sheer it’s practically see-through and a tiny matching thong. When our eyes meet in the mirror, whatever she sees in mine has her taking a sharp breath in, her nipples pebbling under my gaze.
“You can’t look at me like that when your parents are sleeping down the hall,” she hisses, even as her eyes drop to my rock-hard cock, expression turning molten.
I’m behind her in two strides, my hands gripping her hips, sliding around to run up her torso and cup her breasts. Running my nose up the side of her neck, I breathe her in, flicking my tongue over the spot behind her ear that drives her crazy, chuckling when she shivers.
“I can’t look at you any other way. You are so beautiful I can’t take my eyes off of you.” I rub my thumbs over her nipples and grind my hips forward, so my cock slides between her ass cheeks. Her gasp and the way she pushes back against me has my blood heating, lust and something deeper, more important, simmering in my veins. “And if that means I fuck you in my parents’ house while the rest of my family sleeps down the hall, then that’s what it means. You are so fucking sexy standing here in this sorry excuse for a bra while the bathroom gets all steamy. Tell me, Hurricane, did you leave the bathroom door open a little, hoping I would come in and find you like this?” I unclasp her bra and toss it to the floor. When I tweak her nipples, her throaty moan, and the way she leans back into me, has my cock leaking against her back.
“I always hope you’ll find me,” she gasps out, gripping the edge of the vanity. I don’t know if she means for it to, but her words hit me right in the chest, burrowing deep. I dip my head and trail a line of kisses across her jaw and down her neck, sucking lightly at her pulse point, feeling her moan rumble under my lips as I tug and pull her nipples into stiff peaks.
“There’s nowhere you could go where I wouldn’t find you, Jo Jo. I’ll always, always come and find you.”
I love you.
