T-Bone - L. Wilder Page 0,36

my eyes on the bowl of eggs, scrambling them with the whisk as I muttered, “Liked that kissing thing you did on my neck too.”

I didn’t realize he’d come up behind me until I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck. A delicious tingle shot down my spine the second his lips touched the curve of my neck. “You mean this?”

“Mm-hmm.”

It felt so good and I didn’t want him to stop as I tilted my head. Just as I hoped, he continued nipping and sucking down to my shoulder. Just before he stopped, he lightly clamped his teeth against my skin, giving me another jolt of pleasure. That pleasure was quickly replaced with disappointment when he abruptly stopped and walked back over to the stove, turning his focus back to the bacon he’d been cooking. It amazed me that a simple touch could have such an effect on me, but that’s how it was with Beckett. He brought out feelings I never dreamed I’d have. I thought I’d always be guarded, untrusting, and cold, but he’d shown me that I was wrong. I could feel trust and passion and everything in between. It was one of the many reasons why I liked to be around him so much. I didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smiling when he asked, “How those eggs coming along?”

“Such a tease,” I whispered under my breath.

Beckett glanced over his shoulder, his eyes dancing with mischief. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” I walked over to the stove and dumped the bowl of eggs into the frying pan. “How much longer on the bacon?”

“It’s done. Might wanna check on those biscuits.”

I reached for an oven mitt, then opened the door. Good thing that I did because they were definitely ready, so I pulled them out and set them down on a hot plate. Beckett leaned over and gave the biscuits an appraising nod. “Looks like your mom was right about the skillet.”

“That she was.” I took the spatula and stirred the eggs, and once they were done, I carried them over to the counter. “Looks like we’re set.”

“Plates?”

I motioned my hand above his head. “They’re right behind you in the cabinet.”

Beckett pulled out two, then walked over and sat down on one of the stools next to me. We each made a plate and started eating. After he’d taken a few bites, he looked over to me and said, “You didn’t finish telling me about those tricks.”

“Well, I was trying to, but then you had to go and distract me before I could finish.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” A smile spread across his handsome face. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Mm-hmm. Sure, you couldn’t.”

I poked around at my eggs, then took a sip of my tea. I knew he was waiting for me to tell him about the other things he’d done that had turned me on, but as I sat there, I suddenly became embarrassed and regretted ever bringing it up. I had no idea how to explain it to him, so I just kept quiet and pretended to eat. Beckett had just finished the last of his biscuit when he leaned towards me and asked, “Why don’t you stop stalling and tell me what’s really on your mind?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain”—I shrugged—“and a little embarrassing.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“Let’s just say … that after last night, it’s pretty clear you have a lot of experience ... experience I don’t have.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I don’t think you get what I’m saying.”

“No, I get what you’re saying”—he reached out and placed his hand on mine—“and you’re mistaken if you think there’s anything wrong or embarrassing about the fact that you haven’t had a lot of experience. I personally think it’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

“And why’s that?”

“In time, you’ll see. When you meet the right guy, you’ll have those experiences with him.”

As I sat there focusing on him, I thought about the night before—how safe I’d felt in his arms, how his touch had made my entire body come alive, and how he’d put my needs before his own. I never realized it was even possible for me to actually enjoy having sex, but I did. I enjoyed it a lot, and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to try it again ... and again and again. That didn’t mean I was being naïve about my feelings for Beckett. Sure, there were things