Your Forever Love (The Bennett Family 3)

I suck in a breath, pressing my palm against his chest and pushing him slightly away. Having him so close makes it hard for me to think straight.

“You’re cheeky,” I murmur. “But I still have to go and change. I’m not even wearing a proper dress.” Since it’s warm outside, I put on a sundress this morning, which, while cute, is not appropriate for date night.

“No idea what your definition of proper is, but I love this one. All I have to do to get you naked is pull on this string.”

“Your mind is in the gutter all of the time. Luckily, mine is not.”

“Then I’m not doing my job right.” With a wicked smile, he drags his thumb over my lips once, eyeing my mouth as if he’s about to do dangerous things to it. “Time for you to be thoroughly kissed. We’re not going anywhere, anyway.”

“We’re not?”

“Nope.” He cups my cheek, his hand sliding down my neck and settling on my chest. “I’m cooking you dinner, so we can start our date right away. I bought all the necessary ingredients for starters and the main course yesterday.”

“What about dessert?” I ask in a panic. “That’s the most important part.”

“You’ll be my dessert.” He gives me a heated look. “I’ll be yours.” Noticing my facial expression, he continues, “You don’t seem impressed by it.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, wondering if there’s a nice way to let him down. I don’t think there is. “It’s just that dessert is the best part.”

“You prefer dessert to sex with me?”

“I did not say that.”

“You did not not say it, though,” he insists. He gives me a quick kiss on my forehead before adding, “I’ll order chocolate cake but, just so you know, my ego is very hurt.”

“Aww.” I pinch his shoulder playfully. “I’ll scream extra loud during sex to make up for it?”

Eric’s gaze darkens instantly. Hooking an arm around my waist, he pulls me to him. “I’ll make you scream extra loud.”

“Okay,” I say, almost out of breath.

Seemingly satisfied by my answer, he interlaces his fingers with mine and leads me into the house.

“This is date night,” I insist. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What’s wrong with me cooking dinner for you?”

It’s homey and sweet, and if I see you cooking, in addition to having seen you with your daughter, my ovaries might explode is what I want to say. But I don’t want to sound like a hormonal wacko, so I say, “Absolutely nothing.”

Once in the kitchen, I watch him pull out all the ingredients from the fridge and lay them out on the counter. He starts chopping vegetables right away.

“What should I do?” I ask, hovering around him.

“Entertain me.”

“And what else?” I insist.

“Nothing.”

“Eric, I can’t do nothing. I’m a doer. I need tasks.”

He puts down his knife, pinning me with his gaze. “Here are your tasks. One: Relax. Two: Smile. Three: Think about all the things I’m gonna do to you after we eat.”

He says this in a serious, commanding tone, which sends a delicious shiver through me.

“Very precise instructions,” I murmur, leaning against the table.

“And I shall be strict in making sure you follow them.”