Page 80 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“On it.” Sadie leaves her heckling position at the kitchen island, grabs a can opener from her drawer, then runs around the island once before making a dramatic show of handing it to me.

Her antics coax a belly laugh from Max. She then lets her hand graze my ass, out of view from Max, and dips her fingers right between my thighs.

I nearly send the casserole dish flying.

“You look flushed,” she says. Cheeky woman. “Feeling okay? Anything I can get you?”

I bite the inside of my cheek and clench my ass. No joke. I’m gonna last five seconds tonight. But if she wants to play dirty. Fine. We’ll play dirty. “Think I’d like a glass of wine, if you don’t mind. And Max? Could you grab your copy of the next book you plan to read? I’d like to see it.”

“Sure.” He pops off his stool and races away.

The second Sadie’s at the fridge, attempting to pull out the wine, I spin her around and press her against the stainless steel. “You’re playing with fire, Sprite.”

She trails her tongue over her upper lip. “I’ve missed playing with your fire.”

That’s it. I kiss her thoroughly and palm her breast, groaning from my first feel of her, but I need more. I move my hand south, landing between the valley of her thighs. She’s wearing soft sweatpants that allow me to feel her heat. I press my fingers exactly where she used to like, and Christ. The damp warmth she’s giving off is intense and heady, as is the needy hitch of her breath.

“Dinner’s just an appetizer,” I murmur in her ear. “You’re my main course. I’m gonna feast on you later.”

She rubs herself against my hand, getting a bit frantic. I cup her harder.

Footsteps pound down the stairs, and we break apart. I quickly adjust myself in my jeans. Sadie pats her cheeks and hair, looking bewildered and turned on. Absolutely perfect.

“So,” she says. “Wine. You wanted a glass of wine. So I’m just over here getting you a glass of white wine.”

Max bounds in and slaps a book on the counter: If We Were Us, by K. L. Walther. “I want to read this for book club next.”

“Book club?” Sadie asks, making her way back to her stool. Her T-shirt’s twisted enough to make me smile, but the tease of a red bra strap has me biting back a groan.

“Dad and I started a book club. We have to read the books, then we ask each other book-club-level questions. Like, deeper stuff. We’ve done two so far.”

I grab the box of Cheez-Its—Sadie’s college favorite—from my grocery bag and put it on the counter for her. “Kid is a reading machine,” I say as I move to heat the tomato soup on the stove.

“He is,” Sadie says quietly.

I glance at her over my shoulder, and those eyes she’s giving me? Like she’s discovered a new star in the sky and isn’t sure what to name it? My battered heart isn’t prepared to deal with that look.

Clearing the scratchiness from my throat, I give the soup a stir, then move to start cleaning while it heats.

“Let me do that,” Sadie says, already getting up.

I raise my hand. “No dice. I’m cooking and cleaning. You best get comfortable.”

There’s that discovered-star look again, and I dip my head, not liking that she feels surprised by me helping or that she needs to jump in. If I lived here, I’d do anything and everything to make her life easier. Cleaning. Laundry. Dusting. Seriously. Dusting. Sadie’s spent years doing everything by herself. She deserves to rest for a change.

“I can help,” Max pipes up. “I’m a top-notch cleaner.”

I chuckle. “Top notch, huh?”

“I kind of like cleaning.” He drops his voice, like he’s embarrassed.

Not on my watch. “Well, Maximillian—”

“It’s just Max.”

“Right. Just Max, I’d dig some cleaning help after dinner, but your mother’s not allowed to lift a finger. She’ll have the tough job of lounging on the couch.”

Sadie runs her finger around the lip of her wineglass, giving me sexy eyes. “I’m looking forward to all the lounging I’ll be doing later.”