“Hmm?” she asked, her hand creeping lower. It paused over my intricate Celtic cross tattoo, before moving inward. “This?”

“Hell, yeah.” I grinned and buried my hand in her soft hair, kissing her until she clung to me breathlessly. “But more specifically, I was thinking about food. We were up all night, making love, so I figured you had to be hungry.”

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loud enough for me to hear it. “Uh…guess so.”

I laughed and kissed her one last time before rolling out of bed. “Well, then, let me cook for you. How’s bacon and pancakes sound?”

“Delightful.” She pressed a hand to her flat stomach. “You know how to cook?”

“Duh.”

Her lips twitched. “Did you seriously just say duh?”

“Don’t judge me,” I said, stepping into my boxers. “It felt right.”

She burst into laughter, and I found myself smiling just because she laughed. Because I made her laugh. My chest puffed out with pride, and I tossed my tee at her. “Put this on, and nothing else. We’ve got cooking to do.”

She stood up, stretching her gloriously naked body. “I thought you were cooking for me?”

“You’re in charge of coffee.”

“I think I can handle that since it’s a Keurig and all.” She shrugged into the shirt. I had about a foot on her, so it was longer with her body under it, easily hiding her ass from my view, but it felt as if I was claiming my territory. Temporarily. When I reached for her, she skirted away. “I’m going to go brush my teeth so I can kiss you properly.”

I couldn’t argue with that. In fact, I needed to do the same. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”

She shook her head and headed for the door. “Nope.”

“Good. Because I’m going to spoil you all day long.” I backed into the bathroom and held my arms out, grinning like a lunatic. “Your every wish and desire will be mine. I’m your own personal genie, come to life.”

She stopped in my doorway and stared back at me, her emerald eyes shining at me. “Sounds like you’re going to be irreplaceable by the end of the day. You better be careful, or I just might decide to keep you.”

After she walked away, I let my smile fade.

“I’m counting on that,” I said to the empty room.

—

An hour later, we were both covered in flour because she said something smart-ass that I thought deserved retaliation, and bacon was frying in a pan. We were on our second cup of coffee, and hadn’t stopped talking since we came downstairs. The past hour had been the picture-perfect example of domestic bliss. It had been a magical, perfect, peaceful morning. Instead of being bored, or antsy, or even wanting to escape, I was…

Happy. Imagine that.

She flipped a pancake—because she insisted on helping even though I told her she didn’t need to—and tapped her foot. I watched her, smiling.

I could do this. Live this life.

All I had to do was convince her she could, too.

Glancing over her shoulder, she caught me watching. Smiling coyly, she turned on her heel and walked over to me. “Whatcha thinking?”

“That you make me happy,” I admitted, not bothering to hide it from her. I was done hiding things. “Seeing you here, in the kitchen with me, it feels right.”

She smiled and rested a hand on my heart. I covered it with my own. “You seem…different this morning.”

Funny. I felt different, too. More optimistic, but I knew it wouldn’t last for long. See, the pessimism was already creeping back. “Is that a bad thing, or a good thing?”

“Neither.” She caressed my skin with her thumb. “It’s just…different.”

She rose on tiptoe and kissed me.

The second our mouths met, I took control from her, tangling our tongues together. Hauling her into my arms, I lifted her up and set her on the counter. She spread her thighs so I could step between them, and I didn’t waste any time doing exactly that. All she wore was my tee with nothing underneath, as I’d commanded her to do, so all that stood between her and me was my thin boxers.

It was still too much.

Sliding my hands up her bare thighs, I crept under the soft cotton. She moaned and buried her hands in my hair, urging me closer. I deepened the kiss, sliding my hand even higher up her thigh until I touched her wet pussy. She was ready for me, and it would be so easy—so damn easy—to forget about food, and just worry about pleasing her for the rest of the day.

Until she never wanted to leave me.

The acrid smell of burning food reached my awareness at the same time as I heard the distinctive door chime that announced the arrival of the flowers I had ordered for her online. It was the first time I ever ordered flowers for a woman. Pink and yellow ones, because I knew she liked both those colors.

Reluctantly, I ended the kiss, running my thumb down her clit roughly. “I can keep going, since this is your day and you’re in charge, but the doorbell just rang, and our pancakes are about to burn. You tell me what to do.”

Groaning, she dropped her head back against the cabinet. “You get the door. I’ll get the pancakes. And then…” She pressed my hand closer to her flesh, moaning when I ran my thumb over her clit again. Breath hitched, she said, “We finish this.”

I kissed her one last time. “Gladly.”

After helping her hop down, I smacked her ass as I walked by. She yelped in surprise, and I laughed. I was still laughing when I yanked the door open—but the laugh died way too damn quickly. Standing there, in my door, wasn’t the flower guy.

It was my mother.

Her jaw dropped. “Jackson?”

Fuuuuck. “Mom. Hi. Uh, I can expl—”

“You’re home?” She staggered back, a hand to her chest, clearly taken aback. “You came home, and you didn’t even tell me? And what in God’s creation did you do to yourself? Those better be the kind of tattoos that wash out. What will people think?”

A small, annoying sense of guilt squeezed my heart, but then she commented on my tattoos and the guilt died down a little. She didn’t give a damn about me. Never had. But even so…“They don’t wash off. And…I’m sorry for not calling.”

“There’s surgeries that can remove them,” she said, her voice stronger. “How long have you been home?”

I flexed my jaw. She’d never understand why I felt the need to hide from the world before rejoining it. Why I needed therapy, or a quiet room every once in a while. “A couple of weeks.”

“How dare you leave me in the dark?” she snapped, staring down her regal nose at me. “Think of how that makes me feel.”

Ah, and there it was again. Her constant need to think of herself. “What about how I feel?” I dragged a hand through my hair. “I just needed time, Mother. Coming home is a big adjustment for—”

Her gaze dipped down, before shooting back up. “Time for what?” It was then, I think, that it occurred to her I’d answered the door half-naked, at Lilly’s house, and I could see the moment that that fact became more important than the fact that I was home, safe and sound. She raised her hand and covered her mouth, stepping back. “Jackson. Put some clothes on. What if Lilly came down and saw—?”

“Hurry up, the bacon is burn—” Lilly cut off, her voice ending on a squeak. I didn’t need to look at her to know what my mother saw. My shirt on Lilly’s body. Swollen lips from my kisses. Messed-up hair from my fingers. “Oh. Oh, crap.”

Annnd there it was.

The cat was out of the bag, hissing and kicking and clawing.

Well, both of them were. My being home was now painfully clear…as was the fact that Lilly and I had picked up right where we left off. Kissing.

There was nothing to be done, so I wouldn’t start making excuses.

I wasn’t a liar. Yeah, I came home and didn’t tell her. Yeah, Lilly and I were having sex. And yeah, we were stepsiblings. Oh, well. The world would have to build a bridge and get over it, because what was done was done.