Page 76 of Belong With Me

Chapter Twenty - Six

Ryder

The pair of steaks sizzled in the pan as I tossed chopped potatoes in another. I added a bit of thyme to them, before turning my attention back to the salad on the bench. I was chopping mushrooms when I felt Sin’s hands smooth over my ass, up and over my belt before they came around and locked together around my waist.

I liked how easily she came up to touch me. “You’re awake.” I added the mushrooms to the bowl, then turned in her arms and pressed a quick kiss to her hair. She was wearing a sundress that showed off her amazing legs and maybe a little too much cleavage, though I wasn’t going to complain.

“After what you just put me through? I should be asleep for the next week.” My thoughts trailed off to earlier that afternoon. The image of Sin as she pressed against me on her hands and knees on the bed, sat at the forefront of my mind.

“Well, you’re walking. Maybe I should have tried harder.” I lifted an eyebrow.

She laughed against my chest. “Yeah. Maybe you should have.”

“Good,” I chuckled. “I like a challenge.”

My stomach grumbled beneath her ear, and she looked up at me through her long lashes. “Hungry?”

Gently, I moved her to the side and went back to the stove top, where the steaks were now a perfect medium. I turned the heat off and tossed the potatoes again, making sure they were golden and crispy, before turning those off too.

When I turned back, Sin had cutlery waiting on the island and she was bending to get plates for us which lifted the hem of her dress. When my eyes locked on what was under the dress, they went wide, because it was more a matter of what I didn’t see. She had nothing under the dress. Nothing but her.

Wicked, sinful woman indeed.

Trying to put the idea behind me of how incredible it would be to bend her over the island bench, I clenched my fists and turned around to locate two wine glasses. Though there was probably more chance of me drinking a few beers instead of the wine.

The sounds behind me told me that she had plated the steak and potatoes and was happily setting some salad onto the plates. I was struck by how domestic the scene was. How easily we had slipped into this kind of rhythm, as though we’d been doing it for years, and not just tonight.

Thoughts started flooding in. Of how I could happily find myself settling into daily life with moments like these. With her.

She smiled at me as I slid the glass over the bench to her. “This looks good.”

“Just something quick I could whip up,” I told her. Coming around the island, I then pulled one of the barstools out and waited as Sienna sat down before scooching her in.

I settled into the seat beside her as she cut her steak and popped the bite-sized piece in her mouth. I poured us both a glass of wine, and her fingers brushed mine as she took it. “I thought Savannah was the cook in the family?”

I popped a piece of potato in my mouth, chewing and enjoying the burst of butter on my tongue. “She is. But I know my way around the kitchen.”

“That’s a good thing.” She tried a piece of potato and nodded in appreciation.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because I burn water.” She giggled at her admission before adding, “These are good!”

“So, you’re saying one of us should be able to cook?” My heart was beating a little quicker at the possibility of her wanting to do this again. I could definitely see her sitting here at this island every night with me.

“Unless Savannah is happy to cook all the time. I can’t imagine she would agree to be in the kitchen every single night. I know I wouldn’t.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It was comfortable, something I loved about this relationship we’d been building over these past few weeks. There was never a need to fill the silence, it was never uncomfortable or uneasy, and that was something I wouldn’t take for granted.

Sienna finished her steak and swirled a piece of potato through the remaining butter on the plate. When she’d finished her meal, she washed it down with a long drink of her wine. “This was nice. It was one of the nicer dates I’ve been on actually.”

“One of them?” I asked, full of curiosity. If she was willing to open this door, you could bet I was going to walk right in and find out as much as I possibly could.

Her eyes locked on mine, as she tucked a strand of her jet-black hair behind her ear. “Well, yeah. My favorite one, this guy took us stargazing. We had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, there was a campfire and candles. It was my first real date that felt like someone had actually put effort into it.”

I stiffened immediately at her admission; she was talking about the date I organized for her. “That was your first date?”

She flushed and nodded. I watched as color bloomed across her cheeks. “It was my first real date that felt like someone actually cared about me, or what I might like. It wasn’t someone that Daddy wanted me to try and get to know for business’s sake.”

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