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Bryce was over by Slate’s chair, holding his arms up, starting to whine.
“Hey Linds, tell you what. I’ll get Bryce ready for bed if you’ll clean up the kitchen.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re too good to me, Slate.”
“I’ll help you Lindsey,” Taz volunteered.
Slate went off to the nursery to get Bryce changed and ready for bed. I started scraping and rinsing the dishes while Taz finished clearing.
“So, how have you been?” he asked as I started loading the dishwasher.
“I’ve been good; kind of anxious to get back to school after all of this. How’s it going with you?”
Taz didn’t have a chance to answer me when my new phone vibrated on the counter.
“Hold that thought,” I said, picking it up. It was Kyzer.
“Hey Kyzer,” I said, “What’s going on?”
I heard a soft mumble from Taz as he took up where I left off rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.
“Just wondering what you were up to,” Kyzer said from his end.
“Not much. Just finished dinner and cleaning up. Bryce wore me out today.”
We made small talk for a couple of minutes before I told Kyzer I would call him back later. Taz was getting so loud with banging the pots and pans around in the sink I could barely hear what Kyzer was saying at the other end.
I rinsed the last of the silverware, bending down to place it in the basket inside the machine.
“There,” I said, straightening back up and latching the door to the dishwasher. “That should do it.”
As soon as I turned, I bumped into Taz. He was right there, inches away.
I looked up questioningly at him. His eyes darkened as they gazed into mine. Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me to him and lowered his lips to mine.
I knew this was dangerous territory. Slate could walk back in at any moment. Taz didn’t seem to care; neither did I.
I laced my arms around him and kissed him back, loving once again the feel of his lips working mine. His hands were rubbing my backside as if he was feeling me for the first time.
I finally pulled away, kissing his lips softly before I did.
“Lindsey,” he said quietly, “I was wondering if perhaps you were ready for your next lesson?”
I immediately felt the butterflies surge deep within my belly. Was he serious? I contemplated it only for a moment.
“I may be amenable to that. No strings?”
“Absolutely no strings; you know the drill.”
I smiled up at him. “I suppose I’m ready for my next lesson. When and where is it to be held, Professor Matthews?”
I was totally getting turned on by the idea of playing the role of ardent student to my personal educator.
“My place tonight around 10 p.m; I’ll tell Slate at halftime I need to crash early.”
“Okay. See you then, professor.”
CHAPTER 19
