Fake It (Taste of Port Andrea) by Lily Seabrooke

Author:Lily Seabrooke [Seabrooke, Lily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Holly

I’d never woken up feeling so good in my life, and when I stepped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, early morning sunlight streaming through the windows, I was faced with a beautiful reminder of why I did wake up feeling so good, and that was Avery wearing my silk two-piece pajama top and a pair of panties, standing in the kitchen with her back to me, humming while she cooked.

And god, she had some great legs.

It took her a minute to notice I was there, leaning against the wall and watching her, and she turned and glanced over her shoulder, beaming at me with her hair mussed and her face absolute blissful perfection.

“Holly,” she said, voice crackling. “Hey. Good morning. I’m making scrambled eggs.”

“Ah,” I laughed, coming up towards her and leaning against the counter, looking at the double boiler she had set up, stirring a batch of eggs on top. “The legendary dish I’ve heard so much about.”

She laughed, turning back to the eggs. “I have to impress you somehow.”

“I was plenty impressed with lots of things about you last night,” I said, and she sputtered, nearly dropping the spatula. I loved the way she flushed pink for me.

“I, uh—”

“Very impressed how good you are taking a strap in your mouth.”

“Jesus,” she said, putting a hand over her face, turning away, and she cleared her throat loudly. I had to admire her dedication, still stirring the eggs with her other hand. “Planning on just going around talking about that all the time?”

“Do I look like an exhibitionist, Avery?”

She shrugged. “You have a massive, full-wall window. I don’t know how many people you might have fucked like that in front of it.”

I grinned, reaching out and flicking her hair back from her face. “Are you an exhibitionist, seeing things like that just from me having a window? Or are you a voyeur? Which side of the window are you on, Avery?”

“I see you’re very invested in knowing about my sexual preferences now,” she said, glancing at me from the corner of her eye, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Who could blame me? I quite enjoyed what I found out last night.”

She cleared her throat, looking away again, and turned off the stove, plating the eggs along with seared mushrooms and grape tomatoes, and she handed one plate to me. “Coffee?”

“I think I’ll have tea this morning.”

So we ended up sitting down together, across from each other, with a pot of English breakfast tea and Avery’s legendary eggs, and we spent maybe half an hour talking about everything other than the topic at hand—including my very emphatic tasting of Avery’s scrambled eggs—before I let it slip.

“I sometimes like to dress them up,” Avery said, a forkful of food on her way to her mouth, and I raised an eyebrow.

“I sometimes like to undress you, but that works, too,” I said, and she fumbled and nearly dropped the food on her lap. I laughed. “You okay there, Avery?”

She looked away, setting the food back down.

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