I nodded, just as dazed. We’d had some good sex. Alotofgreat sex. Even some personal-record-phenomenal sex. This had been… something else entirely.
“And to think, I was tired when we got home,” he murmured, nuzzling my cheek. “I think you inspire me, Hawk Sunday. Giving me all kinds of energy.”
The wordenergydropped between us, and I felt Jack go still. He pulled back, and we shared a single wide-eyed blink before he darted a lightning-fast glance at the counter where Pecky sat.
He laughed, but the sound was a little forced. “Jesus. I think the heat’s fried my brain. Or, more likely, my hot fiancé has.” He stepped back to help me off the counter, and once he’d made sure I was steady on my feet, he pressed a kiss to my temple. “Come shower with me.”
“Definitely shower,” I agreed, running a hand through my sweaty hair and feeling cum trickle down my thigh. I refused to look at the rooster. “I’m dirty.”
“I like you that way.” Jack grinned, taking my hand and leading me upstairs to our bathroom.
Under the cool spray of the shower, we took our time cleaning each other, our hands lingering on warm, soap-slicked skin. Because he smelled so good, tasted so good,wasso good, I pressed a kiss to the underside of Jack’s chin—my current favorite spot on his body. Jack growled and grabbed me around the waist, and the next thing I knew, I was pressed against the cool tile wall, Jack’s mouth hot on mine.
I pulled back and laughed a little breathlessly. “Slow your roll, playa. I’m young, but even I need more than ten minutes to… to…oh fuck,” I groaned as Jack sank to the tiles and proved me a liar.
This time, the orgasms were slower but not one iota less intense. By the time I’d come down his throat and he’d spilled on the shower floor, we were both waterlogged, wrinkled, sated… and absolutely ravenous.
Forfood.
At least, I was pretty sure.
“I’m going to light the grill and make a salad, too,” Jack declared, wrapping a towel around his waist and another around mine since I’d lost the ability to coordinate my movements. “And water. So much water.”
“Yes. Hydration,” I grunted. “Good.”
I followed him back to the kitchen, watching a single droplet of water trail down the tanned column of his spine as he walked. I bit my lip and curled my hands into fists, fighting the urge to yank Jack’s towel off his body and make love to him on the stairs.
Maybe it wasn’t just food I was hungry for.
“Christ, I can barely keep myself upright,” I croaked, mostly as a warning to my own wayward libido.
“Careful, baby.” Jack frowned in concern. Once we got to the kitchen, Jack got me some ice water and insisted that I sit on the stool and watch him prep dinner… which didn’t help matters. Jack moving around the kitchen, handling knives and tools with calm competence and focus, was and always had been one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.
“You okay?” he asked once he had vegetables and chicken marinating in a bag on the counter. He came closer, stepping between my legs, and pressed a hand to my forehead. “You’re still looking flushed. Think it could be heatstroke or something?”
I snorted, even as I leaned into the touch. “You think heatstroke’s making me horny? Or that my hot fiancé is giving me heatstroke?”
Jack’s eyes darkened. “You can’t be horny right now,” he said, even as his hands slid up my thighs and I noticed a growing tent in his own towel. “Impossible.”
My body didn’t seem to have gotten the memo about what was possible, though, because I was definitely horny—definitelyexceptionallyhorny—even before Jack bit my jaw and sucked my earlobe into his mouth.
Later, after Jack had eaten me out and taken me again—on the kitchen floor this time—I found myself sprawled on the hardwood with my head pillowed on Jack’s stomach. Every bone in my body felt spongy-soft, and my head felt like the unspun wool I’d gotten at the rummage sale earlier—fuzzy and amorphous.
“Wow,” I slurred in the direction of the ceiling. “Just… just… wow.”
“I want to make you food,” Jack complained in a hoarse whisper, lifting one hand a couple of inches before letting it flop to the floor again. “But I can’t reach it from here.”
I snickered. “What the hell has gotten into us?” I demanded. “We’re supposed to be an old, almost-married couple.”
“Wellllll,” Jack began in a teasing tone I recognized, “I know exactly what’s gotten intoyou, Hawklet.”
Despite my fatigue, I managed to roll over and tickle his ribs because I loved Jack too much to let him make silly jokes like that without immediate payback.
Jack grabbed my hands to stop me, and I pulled back just a little, full-on laughing now…
Then, I caught sight of the rooster on the counter and froze.
Sir Pecksworth sat exactly where I’d first put him… except I was almost positive I hadn’t adjusted him after Lydia moved him. He definitely wasn’t facing the wall now, though. In fact, his golden eyes seemed to stare directly at us, his ceramic beak tilted with something that almost looked like… avian satisfaction.
