CHARLEE

My mother once told me, “The simpler the dish, the more obvious the mistake.” I didn’t really understand it at the time, but as I grew older and more experienced in the kitchen, it sank in. Take eggs for example. There are countless ways to prepare them. Scrambled, fried, poached, boiled, so on and so forth. Whatever your choice, your cooking skills—or lack thereof—will be painfully obvious. If you forget that an omelet finishes cooking on the plate, it will be overdone. If you don’t position the spatula just right when flipping a fried egg, the yolk will break. If you skip the ice bath after removing a hard-boiled egg from the pot, the fluffy yellow center will be circled with gray. Details matter. Presentation matters. The smallest action—or inaction—can make a huge difference on the final outcome.

That last part is what I’m hyper focused on each and every time I step foot into a kitchen. It’s why I do what I do so well. As I garnish each frittata wedge with some arugula and freshly grated parmesan, I step back to admire my handiwork.

“Perfetto.”

“You’re welcome to stay over anytime if I wake up to this every morning. Especially if you’re half naked and speaking in Italian.”

I jump a little as Drew startles me. “Shit! Why do you always sneak up on me?”

His laughter rumbles in my ear as he presses his chest to my back and wraps his strong arms around me. “Are you fluent?”

“Nah. I like to say I speak Italian-ish. Growing up, my mom often mixed Italian and English into the same sentence—still does, actually—so I learned what I know from reading the context.”

“Well, it’s sexy as hell.” He pauses a moment. “That food looks almost as delicious as you. What is it?”

“A frittata.” I stab the eggs with a fork and turn around to feed him a piece. “Your fridge was surprisingly well stocked.”

He gives me a crooked smile. “I like to eat.”

I chuckle. “So I’ve noticed.”

The last time I woke up next to Drew, I was hungover and in shock so I never got to appreciate how adorable he is first thing in the morning with his rumpled boxers, tousled hair, and sleepy lids. As his lips wrap around the tines, my skin tingles, remembering how that mouth felt floating over my bare skin last night. Drew chews slowly, looking at me as if he can read my mind. His gaze is filled with so much heat that I drop the fork the moment he swallows and lunge for him. He lifts me with no hesitation and pulls my legs around his waist as he carries me out of the kitchen.

He breaks away from my mouth. “The eggs are incredible but I’d rather eat you for breakfast.”

My eyes roll back as he bites the delicate skin where my neck meets my shoulder. “Fuck the eggs.”

Drew chuckles as he sets me on the edge of the dining table and raises my arms. “You look hot as fuck in my t-shirt, Charlee, but I need you naked right now.”

He lifts the shirt over my head. I squirm as his lips travel over each area of newly exposed skin until my bare back is resting against the wood.

“How sturdy is this table?”

Drew drops to his knees and hooks my legs over his shoulders. “Sturdy enough.” I didn’t bother with any panties this morning so there’s nothing stopping him from diving straight into my pussy.

My back bows. “Oh, fuck!”

He draws lazy circles around my clit while he teases my entrance with this finger. “You like that, baby?”

I can’t even form a coherent response as Drew devours me like I’m his last meal. I’m a tangle of screams and moans, and mind-numbing ecstasy. God, this man knows how to work my body over like no other. I never knew sex could be so intense. Feel so incredible. My senses are heightened the moment Drew touches me, like every nerve ending is a live wire. Right as I’m climbing to the point of no return, someone starts pounding on his front door.

“Who the hell is that?” I pant.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles into my hot flesh.

The knocking continues as he begins licking me again, followed by incessant ringing of the doorbell.

“C’mon, asshole, open up!”

Drew freezes the second he hears my brother’s voice. I scramble off the table in a panic.

“What the hell is he doing here?” I shout whisper.

Drew hangs his head. “Fuck, I totally forgot.”

“About what?”

He stands and adjusts himself through his boxers. “We were supposed to go golfing this morning.”

“Drew!” I throw my hands up. “You couldn’t have told me that last night so I would be gone by now?”

He gives me a wry look. “We were a little busy last night. It slipped my mind.”

Oh right. We were preoccupied with having all the sex. We never even got around to filling out the annulment paperwork.

The knocking is harder this time. “Dude, I saw your truck in the parking garage. I know you’re there.”

“Shit!” I start looking around for the discarded shirt but I don’t see it anywhere. “What if he saw my car, too?”

Drew looks toward the door. “Go in my bedroom and lock the door. I’ll get rid of him.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I practically sprint down the hall until I am safely ensconced in his room with my ear pressed to the door.