Boudreaux 01 Easy Love by Kristen Proby

Author:Kristen Proby [Proby, Kristen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
Publisher: Ampersand Publishing
Published: 2015-03-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Kate

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Mama’s for dinner?” Gabby asks us as she gathers her handbag and car keys and settles Sam’s baseball cap on his head.

“We’ll be fine here,” Eli replies with a grin, sips his sweet tea, and keeps his sexy, naughty eyes on me. “I’ll show Kate around.”

“I thought you showed her around yesterday,” Gabby replies dryly. Eli simply shrugs one shoulder and takes another sip of his tea, watching me. God, he’s potent. He showed me around yesterday, all right. Around his body, and mine, and I’m pretty sure he discovered erogenous zones that I didn’t even know I had.

And muscles. I’m sore today. Sore. My inner thigh muscles are singing. How does that happen?

“How is it that you don’t have any guests tonight?” I ask.

“I always have an empty inn on Sunday nights. That gives me time to catch up on laundry and cooking for the upcoming week, and I can get away to Mama’s for dinner.”

“Convenient for me,” Eli says, and laughs when Gabby glares at him.

“You’re my brother.”

“That’s the rumor,” he says with a smile.

“No, you are,” Sam adds solemnly. “Nannan says so. Plus, you look alike. I don’t have any brothers.”

“No, you don’t,” Gabby says with a laugh.

“I want some, though,” Sam adds.

“Let’s go.” Gabby sighs and shakes her head. “Clean up your own messes, big brother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies in that slow, sexy accent that never fails to make me weak in the knees, and the grin spreads over his face when Gabby’s engine starts and drives down the driveway. “Alone at last.”

“We’re alone quite often,” I remind him.

“Mm,” he replies, leaning his hands on the kitchen island, just staring at me with that smirk on his face as I lean on the breakfast bar opposite him.

“Are you going to just…do me here on the counter?”

“Do you?” He tilts his head back and forth, as if he’s considering it. “Probably. But first, I’m going to cook for you.”

“Cook for me.” It isn’t a question. “You cook.”

“I cook just fine, thank you very much.” He cocks a brow.

I bet he does. He does everything very well.

“And what are you going to cook?”

“You’ll see.” He turns to the fridge and begins gathering supplies, moving about the kitchen as if he’s perfectly comfortable here. Which kind of throws me, because let’s face it, watching the uber successful billionaire businessman, who admits to being a workaholic, work in the kitchen like it’s second nature is…hot.

“Where did you learn to cook?”

He chooses a knife from the butcher block and begins chopping up an onion.

“Mama taught us all to cook.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just look gorgeous and keep me company.”

“Charming,” I reply with a sigh. He’s in another black T-shirt and blue jeans, which I think is unusual for him, but look amazing on him. His forearms flex and bunch as he chops. Just like they bunch when he’s over me, gripping onto the mattress as he thrusts in and out of me.

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