Page 108 of A Pizza My Heart

“I’d help, but to be fair, he had no idea she’s pregnant. He was real pissed after she blurted it out to him, stormed out for the day. When I left, your dad was still trying to find him.”

“Good! He should feel like a complete ass for being such a jerk to her. He’s so dang mean lately.”

“Has he always been this moody? I don’t remember him being that way.”

“No. It’s been like this since the accident.”

Foster shakes his head. “Well, he needs to knock that shit off. I’ll have to talk to him.”

“Good luck.” I set my beer down and pull two bowls from the cabinet next to me. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let me grab the garlic bread from the oven and we should be good to go.” I slide a glove over my hand and tug the door open. “They look perfect.”

“Yes, yes they do.”

I peek over my shoulder.

Foster’s staring at my ass.

“Are you referring to my butt cheeks or my breadsticks?”

He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “You can’t say butt cheeksandbreadsticks in the same sentence, Wren, not when you’ve had my dick hard for four weeks straight.”

“Yikes.” I wince, plucking the hot pan from the oven. “You might wanna get that checked out. I thought fourhourswas the max.”

“Hardy fucking har. Just feed me so I can fuck you.”

The breadsticks nearly go crashing to the floor before I recover and set them on the cooling rack.

“Jesus, Foster. You have to warn a girl before you say some panty-melting phrase like that.”

He pushes up from the table and saunters my way with a saucy grin. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close. I can feel the way my teasing has affected him, his hard length pressing into me.

“Speaking of panties…” He slides his hands around my backside, cupping my ass cheeks. “Are you even wearing any?”

I smirk up at him. “Now what would be the fun in me telling you that, huh? It would ruin the surprise.”

He snakes his hand under my skirt, eyes lighting up when he feels my bare cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Or maybe”—I wiggle my ass—“you just haven’t looked hard enough.”

Spinning me, he flips my skirt up, sucking in a hard breath when he sees I’m wearing a thong.

“Fucking hell. Killing me,” he murmurs. He drops his lips to my ear. “Hands on the counter, Wren.”

“But dinner…it’ll get cold.”

He pulls my long hair away from my neck and trails his lips down my skin. “Look, I love that you cooked me a meal and I’m certain it’s fantastic, but there’s something else I’d much rather be eating right now.”

My breath leaves my lungs in a loud whoosh.

“So put your fucking hands on the counter and spread your legs.”

I don’t hesitate to follow his instructions as he drops to his knees behind me.

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