Page 19 of Choosing Skyler

I walk toward her, and she backs up to let me out of the bathroom. I keep walking her backwards until her back hits the wall in the hallway. I don’t cage her in. I just stand in front of her, close enough that I can feel her body heat, but not touching. She lets out a shaky breath and reaches up to put her hands on my chest.

I think for a second that she’s going to push me back, but she doesn’t. She runs one hand up my chest to the back of my neck and I wonder if it feels this good when I hold her the same way. She pulls gently and I let her bring my face to hers. I’m so ready to kiss her sweet mouth. I lick my lips as she goes up on her toes, inching closer to my face.

Then… she licks the tip of my nose before squeezing past me and running back up the hallway.

“I'll take that as a down payment,” she laughs out over her shoulder.

Seems my girl is just as ridiculous as us guys. I chase after her and catch her just as she rounds the couch. I tackle her onto the big ottoman and pin her hands above her head, climbing up to straddle her thighs. She struggles and laughs. I lean down until my mouth is level with her ear and pause. She goes still, waiting like I was earlier. I lick the shell of her ear before nipping her neck in the soft spot just below it.

She says my name in the most beautiful purr, “Brady…”

“Right here, Beautiful. Whatcha need?” I whisper huskily in her ear.

She doesn’t answer me with words. She turns her head and catches my mouth with hers,finally. I kiss her back softly at first, letting her drive the pace. She pushes her tongue between my lips and moans. I may be on top, pinning her arms down, but she’s got me pinned just the same. With that single sound, I’m stuck. I groan and deepen the kiss. I don’t think anything can pull me from her mouth. Until… Her stomach lets out a loud growl and she giggles.

“I guess I can’t just live on your kisses, after all. I was really sure that I could.” She grins up at me.

I release her arms and stand, holding out my hand to help her up. “Come on. I’ll make you lunch.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’ll just eat a granola bar,” she says.

“Nuh uh. Lunch! I’m hungry too after sleeping through breakfast,” I reply, dragging her to the kitchen.

“Okay, fine! But we don’t have a lot here. Today was supposed to be grocery shopping day, but I got distracted by my man tackling me and kissing the brain cells right out of my head,” she snarks.

“Say it again,” I say, pinning her to the counter next to the refrigerator. “Who distracted you, Beautiful?”

She looks up at me and her eyes flash. She knows what I’m referring to. She puts her hands on my chest and rises on her toes, putting her mouth against mine.

“My Man,” she whispers against my lips, and I can’t stop my smile.

It spreads wide and so does hers. I nip her bottom lip and step back, opening the refrigerator. I take stock of the ingredients and decide on ham and cheese omelets since she wasn’t lying about needing a shopping trip. I pull out the eggs, ham, and a half full bag of shredded cheddar before bumping the door closed with my hip.

“Want to grab me a bowl and whisk while I find a pan?” I ask her, grinning.

When I look up at her she’s smiling like I just handed her a winning lotto ticket.

“You’re making me one of your famous omelets?” She’s almost jumping up and down with excitement.

Damn, if I’d known that was all it took, I would have made her an omelet two days ago. I guess Devondoestalk about me quite a bit.

“Not really much to it. I’m guessing you don’t mind breakfast for lunch?” I ask with a smile.

“Are you kidding me?! I love breakfast anytime of the day, any day of the week,” she replies excitedly, opening a drawer and pulling out a whisk. “Devon raves about your omelets every time I try to make one and end up with scrambled eggs instead.” She shrugs like she’s a little embarrassed. “I can never get it to flip over right.”

“That’s okay, Beautiful. I’ll teach you. Come on,” I say, starting the burner under the pan and grabbing the bowl and whisk from her. I show her how to make a proper three egg omelet.

Then, when it’s time to make the second one I watch her repeat my steps. When she flips her omelet, and it slides out of the pan in a perfect half-moon of cheesy goodness she beams at me with pride.

“See, nothing to it.” I smile at her.

“I made an omelet!” She beams at me. “I’m going to take a picture and send it to Devon, or he’ll never believe me.” She pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, and I remember...

“Shit, I never put my phone on the charger. It’s dead,” I say, jogging down the hall to grab my charging cable from my duffle and my phone from her nightstand. I plug it in and leave it on the kitchen counter to charge while we eat.

The front door opens just as we’re putting our plates in the dishwasher. Devon comes running into the kitchen like his ass is on fire.

“Where is it?” he says, looking around.

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