Page 55 of Beg Me

“Aw, you tell that boy that I love him more than the moon and stars,” she says. “Bye, Jory.”

“Goodbye.”

I end the call and turn to set the phone beside the sink when a knock rings through the house.

“I’ll get it!” Gus shouts, jumping up from the table, all too happy to abandon the packet that he was supposed to start on half an hour ago. I figured it was good for him to attempt it alone. And if he managed to get some of it done before Markie got here, that would give her and me more time together alone.

I pull in a breath at the thought of being alone with her again. Let’s pray it goes differently this time.

My eyes are glued to the doorway, but their voices reach me before they do.

Markie follows Gus into the kitchen, and I swear her presence sucks the oxygen out of the room.

Holy shit.

Markie didn’t come to play.

Or … maybe she did.

A smirk settles against my lips.

The bombshell is temptation wrapped in a sundress. The green dress hugs her curves, and her hair is pulled back, save for a few strands that fall around her face. The delicate slope of her shoulders is on full display, and I have an irrational urge to brush my thumb along her collarbone. And the coy grin on her face tells me none of this was an accident.

She pauses at the table before moseying my way. Her thick lashes flutter with mischief. “Hey, you.”

“Hey to you,” I say, rooted in place. My gaze is trained on her as she moves like a vision, inching closer.

My breath hitches in my throat as she drags a fingertip over my abs as she passes me. Goose bumps spread across my skin like wildfire, and I can’t do anything to stop it.

“It smells amazing in here. What did you make?” she asks, moving to the stovetop.

“Biscuits and gravy,” Gus says. “If it sucks, that’s on him because he used my grandma’s recipe, and hers is killer.”

Markie laughs. “Good to know. Grandma recipes are always the best.” She looks at Gus over her shoulder. “You should taste my Lolly’s fried chicken. It’s the best in the universe.”

“I love fried chicken,” Gus says.

“I made a few other things in case you aren’t a fan of gravy,” I say, hoping it doesn’t sound like I’m trying too hard. “There’s bacon and eggs, too.”

“He’s trying to impress you,” Gus whispers loud enough for me to hear.

I start to deny it, but chuckle instead. “Yeah, I mean, I guess it’s obvious.”

Gus scrambles by me, grabbing a plate and loading it with food. I think about telling him to only take what he’s going to eat—that he can always come back for seconds—but just as I open my mouth to tell him, Markie leaves the stove and comes toward me.

She smells like vanilla and sunshine, and her tanned skin looks like it’s been kissed by the sun. She’s a dream and nightmare all rolled into one. There’s something about that combination that I fucking love.

“Have you starved him today?” she asks, glancing at the piles of food on Gus’s plate.

“You’d think.”

“I’m a growing boy,” he says with a piece of biscuit hanging out of his mouth as he walks to the table.

I turn my back to Gus and peer down at Markie. “Point taken.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asks, grinning.

“You’re trying to torture me.”