Page 66 of Falling for Her

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. I usually just have clothes or shoes.” He snorts. “I also have vacations.”

“I guess we have different algorithms. You never cooked for your husband?”

“God, no.” I laugh. “We usually ate out, or he was gone, so I would just order in.”

“You never sat in bed and wanted to eat something and then made it?”

“No. I’ve sat in bed and wanted to eat something, and then ordered it. You should try it. It’s really fun. You don’t have to clean up after. It’s a whole new world.”

He laughs. “I don’t know, cooking relaxes some people.”

“Who? Say their names because I can tell you right now, after trying to cook for a week, it doesn’t relax me at all. In fact, it stresses me out. Every single day, it was like we were entering Jumanji, and it was a guess if we were going to make it.”

He chuckles. “Okay, come here and try cutting the chicken.”

I edge closer. “Is that such a good idea? You’re doing a great job.”

He puts the knife down on the cutting board. “Just cut strips and then in the middle.”

I pick up the knife and look at the chicken. I feel him behind me. “Here.” His arms circle around me, one hand wrapping over mine, holding the knife, and the other holding the chicken in place. As he moves the knife with me to cut the chicken, I can’t focus on anything but the way my hand fits under his. I can feel his breath right next to my ear.

When we’ve finished the task, I look at him over my shoulder. “Is that it?” My chest is almost heaving; his face is closer than I thought it would be. “That seems easy enough.” I bite my lower lip.

He moves his head slowly, and I feel his lips graze mine. He’s so close I can taste the kiss. My nipples tingle, and I move my head to the side to give him better access to me.

I’m about to turn in his arms when the door swings open.

He jumps back away from me.

“Is it almost done?” Asa asks. “And if not, can I have a snack?”

“It’ll be done soon,” Lincoln assures him, not taking his eyes off me. “Go grab a snack.”

Asa skips to the pantry and comes back with cookies. “What are we having?” He gets on the stool in front of us.

“Honey chicken,” Lincoln answers.

“Your dad says it can be done in fifteen minutes or less. I say it can’t be.”

“Why don’t you and Asa go relax, and I’ll finish here?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I wash my hands in the sink. “I’ll just start the timer.”

His eyes fill with mischief, and a big grin spreads across his face.

Asa sprawls in the chair with his tablet, and I sit on the couch, my body humming. Every single fiber of my being is pulled to Lincoln.

I get up and go back into the kitchen. “I feel guilty not doing anything,” I admit.

“Is that so?” His brown eyes are almost a warm amber color.

“That’s so. I’ll set the table.”

“Not with the plates. It’s easier to fill the plates here.”

“Okay.” I take out the place mats and silverware.