A number of things to look forward to.

Nevertheless.

“Although I don’t want to know, I kind of want to know and maybe sooner is better than later.”

Tack’s hand slipped down me so his arm curved around my back and he dipped his head so he could touch his mouth to mine.

When he lifted it, he said quietly, “My chops are f**kin’ superb. My stuffing, better. Those potatoes, babe, you let loose and enjoy your food, they’ll rock your world. And I made the effort to cook it because I want you to enjoy it. And I like this easy with you and I don’t wanna lose it. Not tonight, our first night of having it. What I will tell you so I can shift that worry outta your eyes is, I’ve lived through worse and I’m still standin’. This Russian mob shit is a pain in my ass and has been a good long while. That said, it’s also turnin’ out to be the means to bring cohesion back to the Club. You’re new but you’re also Chaos, new or not. No one f**ks with Chaos because Chaos f**ks back, as a unit. You f**k one, you f**k us all. So at least I got one less problem because the boys are at my back with that shit and not arguin’ about other shit. The kids are right now at my house and they’re happier there. That’s a Band-Aid but it’s workin’. Another problem down. And you and me have shifted to a place I like and, way you are right now, you like it too. Let’s have this. Later, I’ll fill you in. Now, let’s keep this good.”

I couldn’t argue with that so I whispered, “Okay.” Then I set out to confirm. “But you’ll tell me later?”

“Said I would, I will.”

I nodded then pressed, “About all of it?”

“All of it?” he asked.

“You’ve lived through worse and you’re still standing,” I clarified.

His arms gave me a squeeze. “You wanna know, Red. I’ll tell you. Just not tonight.”

He’d tell me.

I let him in, he was letting me in.

And cooking for me while doing it.

I was thinking I could ride this new roller coaster. I was even thinking I liked it.

I pressed closer as I said, “FYI, handsome, I can cook too.”

“You’re up tomorrow night.”

I edged back half an inch. “But tomorrow night is at your house.”

“Yeah, my house. And bein’ a house, it’s got a kitchen. So you’re cookin’ at my house.”

“But I won’t know where anything is.”

“I don’t have kitchen utensils from Mars, babe. I found my way around yours. You’ll find your way around mine.”

Of course.

“Right,” I murmured then told him, “If you want to get on with the green beans, I can get myself a glass of wine. Do you want a beer?”

“Yeah, I want a beer and I also want you to keep your ass where it is. I’ll get your wine.”

“Tack, I can get my wine and your beer and come right back and hang with you while you finish dinner,” I offered, thinking I was being nice.

Tack’s eyes flashed with amusement as he said, “I bet you can, Red, but what’s up for debate is if you can not argue about every f**kin’ thing.”

My back went straight. “I was being nice!”

“I see you can’t,” he muttered, his lips tipped up at the edges.

“Whatever,” I snapped. “Wait on me. See if I care. I’ll just sit here and sniff chops.”

“Honest to God,” Tack kept muttering as he moved away from me and toward the fridge, “she’s pissed I’m gettin’ her a glass of wine while I’m cookin’ for her.”

“I’m not pissed, pissed. I’m mildly pissed but only because you won’t let me help,” I amended.

Tack stopped, fingers wrapped around the fridge door handle, and he twisted to me. “Tomorrow, you can take care of me. Deal?”

I stared at him. Then I agreed, “Deal.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, I saw his grin right before his head disappeared in the fridge.

Then it occurred to me that I could argue about every f**king thing, including Tack getting me a glass of wine.

Which even I had to admit was ridiculous.

But, if that grin was any indication, Tack liked it.

So I looked at my lap and grinned too.

Because I was, at that moment, really glad he did.

* * * * *

My head snapped back and I gasped, “Oh my God.”

Then I came. Hard.

The instant I did, Tack whipped me to my back and kept pounding deep. So I wrapped all four limbs around him tight and kept coming. Harder.

“Fuck,” Tack muttered against my mouth between grunts, “my girl’s got a greedy f**kin’ pussy.”

He was right. I did. Because I was still coming.

When I stopped coming, Tack was still driving deep and it felt so freaking good, it started to build again.

I held him tight, lifting my h*ps to take him deeper and slid one hand up his back, his neck and into his thick, longish hair as I whispered against his lips, his goatee tickling my skin, “Honey, you have to come or I’m gonna come again.”

“This is a problem?” he grunted back.

I saw his point.

So I smiled against his mouth.

He slanted his head and kissed me.

About thirty seconds later, I came again.

About a minute after that, Tack did.

About thirty seconds after that, Tack’s hand slid lightly down the skin of my side, causing tingles that hit mid-range on the pleasant scale but high on the soothing scale and his lips at my neck whispered, “Like that.”

I liked it too. All of it. Going down on him and Tack returning the favor. Then, because he was so good at it, getting greedy, pushing him to his back and him letting me. Then climbing on and riding him until I came. And last, finishing when he flipped me and rode me until I came again and he did too.

Yeah, I liked it. All of it.

“I like it too,” I whispered then suggested. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk, just have sex. Obviously, that works for us.”

His head came up and his dancing eyes caught mine. “Obviously. But that wasn’t what I was talkin’ about.”

“What were you talking about?”

“You called me ‘honey’,” he answered then muttered, “Sweeter, hearing you say that when I’m buried inside you.”