Page 144 of Knot That Serious

She was still wearing a butter-soft cropped tank underneath, so all her important bits were covered.

But beneath his gaze as it roamed over all her bared skin, she felt positively naked.

“Mix in the chopped chocolate and candy pieces, why don’t you?” she said, waving a hand at the bowl.

He swallowed and pulled the brownie mix closer to him, finally pulling his stare away from her tits.

His arm muscles flexed as he poured the chopping board of goodies into the bowl and attempted to mix.

“Holy shit,” he grunted, arms working.

She watched him, satisfied at the way he struggled.

“It’s so thick,” Jack groaned.

Eli snickered. “That’s what she said.”

“Ooh, good one,” Jack laughed with her, and continued trying to stir the chunky brownie mix. “You make this look easy. What kinda muscles are you packing up there?”

“Baker’s muscles, duh,” she answered, rounding up the bowls and utensils in the sink.

Jack finally finished incorporating all the yummy bits, and Eli confiscated the bowl before pushing it—it was too dense to pour—into the greased square baking pan.

After shoving it in the oven, Jack set the timer on the microwave. It had the least obnoxious beep, and he knew she hated the oven timer.

“Now we just have to wait,” Eli said. “Oh, yeah, and you can do the dishes.”

“Hey!” Jack whined. “If you roll another joint, I’ll do the dishes.”

Eli did as requested, pushed the window open wider, and carried the joint into the kitchen between her lips, dusting the residue off her fingers and elbowing Jack aside until she could wash her hands.

With a flick of the switch, she turned on the overhead fan and lit the joint, watching the smoke disappear into the grate.

“Gimme,” Jack said, and pursed his lips as if for a kiss.

Eli giggled and placed it between his lips, watching him draw from it, the tip glowing bright orange before he pulled away.

The high that had waned during the excitement of baking returned in a smooth wave, and she leaned against the counter, dutifully offering Jack the joint when it was his turn. His lips brushed her fingers with every hit, and her breath caught every fucking time.

“You’re really slow at dishes,” she complained. “I’m already done,” she said, motioning to the partly-smoked joint.

“One more?” Jack asked, and Eli let him have another puff before retreating to the living room.

She snuck one last draw from it before packing it away and blowing her smoke out the window.

Her steps only faltered the tiniest bit when she entered the kitchen again, watching the muscles in Jack’s back and shoulders move as he finished up the dishes.

Shaking herself, she approached the alpha as if he’d bite—he wouldn’t—and dragged the dishtowel off the counter.

“I’ll dry. Bet I’ll finish before you do, too,” she teased.

“That just means I’m a generous lover,” Jack drawled, and Eli cocked her head to the side as she reexamined her words for the context—

“Oh, Jack” she scolded, and smacked at him with the towel.

“Hey, you walked right into that one,” he said, and shielded himself from another slap of the towel.

She grinned, backed away only a step or two, and wound up the towel, intending to snap it into him.

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