Glancing down at her outfit, Drea asked, “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
It’s distracting me, and if you don’t take it off, I’m not sure if I can behave myself.Forcing a smile, I said, “It looks expensive, and I don’t want you to risk getting anything on it.”
Nodding, she said, “You’re right. I’ll go get changed, and then I can help you.”
“Not necessary.”
“But I want to help.”
“All right. But only if you don’t fuck up my recipe.”
Drea grinned. “I can’t make any promises.”
As she turned to flounce into the bedroom, I let my gaze trail over her retreating form. Just the sight of her lush ass bouncing across the floor caused my dick to jump. Using the clean spatula in my hand, I slapped my cheek. “She’s. Your. Brother’s,” I grunted.
Focusing on something besides Drea’s rocking body, I gathered up the other ingredients to make my go-to meal–Tuscan Salmon.
When Drea reappeared, I’d just started searing the salmon. Gone was the overdone makeup, and her long hair was swept back in a clip. She wore black leggings similar to the ones I’d first seen her in. Instead of a sports bra, she had on an oversized t-shirt.
And fuck me, she was beautiful.
“Smells a little fishy,” she remarked as she hopped up to sit on the counter.
“Don’t you like fish?”
“I do. It’s just that it's usually coming to me cooked on a plate.” Wrinkling her nose, she replied, “I miss the fishy part.”
“I fucking love fish, especially salmon. I probably eat it four to five times a week.”
“It’s a good source of protein, so that makes sense.”
“Me and protein make sense?”
Nodding, Drea replied, “Because of how built you are.”
I wagged my brows. “Are you complimenting my body?”
“Once again, you’re impossible. Stating the obvious that you spend a lot of time in the gym isn’t the same as complimenting your body.”
Motioning to the pan, I teased, “Okay, sassy, why don’t you get yourself to work at something other than flapping your jaws?”
Before she could go off on me, I handed her a stick of butter. “Melt that.”
Eyeing the stick, she asked, “The whole thing?”
“Yes. But you want to cut it up some.”
As I handed her a knife, Drea muttered, “Okay.”
Although her expression was uncertain, she unwrapped the butter and then cut it into cubes in the pan. “Should I stir it?”
“When it starts melting.”
While I gathered the spinach and tomatoes, Drea gave the butter her undivided attention. “Now add some heavy cream.”
At her panicked expression, I motioned to the red carton on the counter. “Right.”
She started pouring a creamy river into the pan before I could reach for her wrist. “Easy now. The salmon are already dead, so we don’t have to drown them.”
