Page 63 of Redemption

I lean against the wall, taking in all the golden skin on display. “Isn’t it a little dangerous to cook around grease with so few clothes on?”

Beckett scoffs. “I have clothes on.”

“I can’t imagine a pair of boxer briefs will offer much protection against a grease splatter. But, if you want to risk burning such a sensitive area...”

Beck grabs the nearby pot holder and shoves it down the front of his underwear. “There. Problem solved.”

I laugh at the ridiculous oval-shaped bulge. “I sincerely hope you plan on washing that before you hang it up again. I’m pretty sure things that touch your junk aren’t supposed to go near your food.”

He raises an eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, you were begging to touch my junk just last night, and you’re about to go near your food.”

I roll my eyes. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

Beck crosses the kitchen and cages me in against the wall. “If you want a gentleman, Pres, I’m more than capable of delivering.” He presses his hardness—and the potholder—into me, which is equal parts arousing and amusing. “But if you want really fucking dirty... I’m more than happy to provide that service as well.”

I shiver. “Beckett, I cannot have a serious conversation with you while that thing is down your pants.”

He nibbles on my earlobe and dips beneath the blanket to palm my butt. “So, take it out.”

“What happened to no reciprocation?”

He drags his tongue down the nape of my neck as one of his hands dips between my legs. “That was before I spent the entire night rock hard pressed up against your ass. Right now, I wouldn’t be opposed to a little tit for tat if you’re up for it. You might want to check for an indentation on your ass, by the way. I wasn’t kidding about having the boner from hell all night.”

I start to laugh, but it’s choked off when his finger teases my entrance. “Beckett.”

He places a soft kiss on my shoulder when the comforter falls down just enough to expose it. “This feel good, Pres? Do you want me to keep going?” He dips the tip of his thumb inside before pulling out and dragging it higher. “It sure feels like you do, but if I’m wrong, you just say the word, honey.”

My toes curl when his thumb begins making lazy circles over my clit. “Don’t stop.”

The moment Beckett’s finger slips inside of me, I shove my hand down the front of his shorts, remove the damn potholder, and fist his length.

“Fuuuuuuck, Pres.” He pulses in my hand as I flick my thumb through the bead of moisture at the tip.

Beck and I develop a rhythm—his finger pumps in and out of my body while my hand moves up and down his shaft. Just as a delicious ache is forming low in my belly, the screech of the smoke alarm echoes throughout the room.

“Shit!” Beckett shouts, pulling away and looking at the smoke rising from the pan. He turns off the burner, switches the fan to high, and opens some windows. “Shit. Goddamn fuck fuckity smoke alarm!”

I pull the comforter around me more securely and head to the front door. While I’m swinging the door back and forth, trying to fan some fresh air into the room, I see my father’s truck coming up the drive.

I slam the door shut and plaster my back to it. “Crap! My dad’s coming!”

“What?” Beck exhales in relief when the smoke alarm finally shuts up.

“My dad!” I repeat. “He’s coming up the driveway, and I’m naked!”

He laughs. “Well, then go get some clothes on.”

“Beckett!” How can he be so nonchalant about this? “I’m naked. The sun’s barely up. It reeks like sex in here, and I’m betting that scent is even stronger on your hand! And my dad’s coming!”

The infuriating man leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. “Honey, you do remember we’re thirty years old, right?”

I growl. “And I’m a married woman! I’m married, and I’m standing naked in your house, first thing in the morning, looking and smelling like sex!”

His expression instantly darkens as he clenches his jaw. “Right. How could I forget such an important detail like the fact you’re married to another man? I’ll try my best not to make that mistake again.”

My face falls. “Beckett, I didn’t me—”

“Go get dressed, Presley. I’ll take care of your dad.”

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