Page 107 of The Lost Melody

Lennon slips on the tiniest thong on the planet, making sure her dress is back in place.

“And now I’m officially starving. You can make the snacks, O,” she smirks, slipping out of the room.

Stalking after her, I follow her down the hall and grab her around the waist when she’s halfway down the stairs.

“I will make you anything you want,” I murmur in her ear, loving her small whimper as she squirms. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Other than your cock?” she asks, looking up at me with her beautiful gray eyes.

“You can have that later,” I promise.

Chewing her lip, she nods. “I really want tacos. I know that’s not really a snack, though…”

I snort, shaking my head. “You can have tacos at any time, there’s zero rules when it comes to that. Come look cute, and I’ll make you food.”

Lennon grins, threading her fingers through mine as we continue through the house. I’ve never been one to hold hands with anyone, but I love the feel of her tiny hands in my large ones.

Glancing out the large back French doors, I see Derek, Greg, and two other men working on screening in the back porch. I figure the other two men are Tori’s guys, but can’t say for sure. I haven’t met them yet.

Steering Lennon into the kitchen, I pick her up and sit her at the island. Opening the fridge, I’m so glad it’s fully stocked. Greg is like a magical house elf. Rolling my eyes at my odd thoughts, I look over my shoulder at Lennon.

“Chicken or steak tacos, little one?” I ask her. Blushing, she shifts her weight as she decides.

“Chicken please,” she says, her voice husky and beautiful.

Ignoring how tight my pants feel, I make tacos for an army. It’ll be dinner soon, and Lennon can snack as I cook.

Roark and Turner walk in half an hour after I start cooking, drenched in sweat, and I figure out where they went quickly.

“How was the run?” Lennon asks, her eyes trailing over them before eating another chip.

I decided to keep her happy with chips and salsa and guacamole while I cooked, and she’s been making happy noises ever since.

“It was fantastic, Lenny,” Roark murmurs, kissing her forehead. “This looks amazing, Orion, need any help?”

I shrug, because I’ll never say no to help. “Sure, jump in wherever. I’m making tacos with fresh tortillas. I figured everyone would be hungry when they’re done working on the porch.”

Roark nods, thinking as he looks at everything I’m doing.

“Dessert,” he says, thinking. “Have you thought about making one yet?”

I shake my head. “I’m not a great baker, so please have at it,” I say enthusiastically.

Roark starts pulling out ingredients from the pantry and the fridge, and he groans with the same energy as when he has an orgasm when he realizes there are two ovens in this kitchen.

Greg and Link hooked us up with this house, and I need to thank Link privately once I meet him.

The guys come in an hour and a half later to margaritas, atres lechescake that Roark put together, and tacos for an army.

“Holy shit,” Greg says, surveying the food on the island. “This all smells incredible.”

“Dig in,” I grin, washing my hands.

“You’re a man of many talents, Orion, though I shouldn’t be surprised,” Greg admits with a chuckle.

Drying my hands, I shrug. I grab a plate and make sure to snag three chicken tacos for Lennon, because I made steak as well. Slipping the plate in front of her, I wink at her when she looks up in surprise.

“Thank you,” she says, color high in her cheeks. Wondering if I make her nervous with the extra attention, I shift my focus to the two men I don’t know in the room.

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