Page 72 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

“I watch a lot of Dr. Phil.” He shrugs.

I snort. “Liar. You do not.”

He outright laughs. “Okay. I listen while you watch it.”

I grin, then, lean in to kiss him. “I love you.”

“Good. I love you, too. Besides, I really did order the food truck wrap.”

Wait, what? What does one have to do with the other?

Damnit, Chase…

“It doesn’t have my face on it, does it?” I ask.

Smirking, he shrugs. “Only a little.”

“Chase.”

“Kidding. But not really. It absolutely has your face on it, baby.”

I’m going to kill him.

“Your food truck has my face on it? It’s your food truck. Why doesn’t it have your face?” I ask.

He wiggles his brows. “Who says it doesn’t?”

I snort. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“I know.”

Later that night, I’m standing at the kitchen counter, barefoot in his T-shirt, drinking the rest of Mari Lynn’s wine straight from the bottle.

He comes up behind me, slides his arms around my waist, and rests his chin on my shoulder. “Still thinking about her?”

Shaking my head, I turn in his arms. “Thinking about you.” My arms wrap around his waist, and I set the empty bottle on the counter behind him.

“Good thoughts I hope?” he questions.

“The best.” Hugging him tightly, I move my hands up and down his back, not to entice, just to feel him under my palms. “You make the noise stop.”

Reaching up, he brushes my hair back from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. “And you make me feel like I could survive anything.” He traces my lips with his fingertip.

I smile under his thumb and kiss the pad. “Even my mom?”

He laughs. “Especially your mom.” Moving his hand, he traces my cheekbone.

Standing on my tip-toes, I kiss him. Slowly and deeply. He kisses me back and it’s beautiful and perfect. Sliding my hands down his back, I slip them into his boxer briefs and squeeze his firm ass cheeks. He breaks the kiss, and I grin up at him. “Want to christen the kitchen again?”

He lifts me onto the counter. “God, yes.” He peels my panties down my legs and shoves his boxer briefs down, all within thirty seconds. Then, he pulls me to the edge of the counter. My thighs widen and my ankles lock behind his back. I grip him, stroke him a few times, and line him up. His cock head slips past my lips and his hips move. He slides in and we move as one.

The counter is christened. And then, he takes me against the fridge. Where the casserole my mother dropped off earlier is sitting. Because we’re insatiable. We’re in love. We’re in a good place. And because we’re thriving.

CHAPTER 14

SABATAGE AND SEDUCTION

ROXY

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