When We Fall (Take the Fall, #2)(30)

What is new—I want more, and not only because of the woman sprawled on top of me, but because I’m tired of the status quo. I’m tired of being known only for parties and women and good times. Oh, and for being a former juvenile delinquent turned ex-convict.

Hiring Piper to work at the shop was a step in the right direction in terms of finances, but it’s not enough. There’s something more for me to do, for me to become.

I just have to figure out what that is.





Chapter 9





Jase


Over the next few days, I immerse myself in work and teaching Piper how to cook. Honestly, I can’t believe how enjoyable it is—not the part about spending time with Piper, because I knew that would be amazing, but actually doing something so domestic.

It’s the night before her doctor’s appointment and I’m doing everything I can to stay focused. To not be a horny bastard.

But f*ck, it’s hard. Pun intended.

“I planned for stir-fry tonight. You up for that?”

She nods happily. “Yes.”

“Turn around, please,” I say and she presents me with her back. “Always wear one of these so your pretty clothes don’t get messed up.”

“Hey. That wasn’t my fault. I didn’t realize the bag of flour was open,” she protests.

Cutest thing I’d ever seen, I think. Piper covered from head to toe with flour. The kitchen, too. I think it took us two hours to clean it, and in the end, I ended up ordering a pizza.

“Sure you didn’t. I think you just wanted a visual of me mopping floors.” Tying the apron around Piper’s small waist, I step back and admire her. “Spin around, gorgeous. I want the full effect.”

Slowly, Piper spins around for me, making her yellow skirt flare out. She’s like a fifties housewife in her puffed-out skirt and fitted blue top. Her hair is pulled up at the temples with sparkly barrettes, and diamonds flash in her ears.

All that’s missing is a pair of heels and red lipstick. Probably her mother told her that only whores and sluts wear red lipstick. Mrs. Ross is classy like that.

“First things first. I want to see how handy you are with a knife.” I hold out the knife, handle first.

With a smile, Piper takes it from me and begins to expertly chop up the vegetables for our dinner. While I might be more of an expert at cooking, I have no idea if she’s dicing, slicing, or julienning them. As long as they’re cut up in small enough pieces to cook in the wok, they’re perfect.

“Done,” she calls out.

I move closer to inspect her work. “That was fast.”

She wriggles her brows at me. “Told you I am an expert food preparer.”

“You certainly are.” I scoop up the veggies and add them to the wok. “See how I turned on the flame to medium-high heat? There’s a tablespoon of oil at the bottom, too. You want to make sure that doesn’t start smoking before you add the food.”

“Smoking is bad,” she says soberly. “Who knew?”

“Witch,” I tease. Yeah, I’m about one hundred percent sure her doctor is going to say that I need to quit smoking. Worth it, though. “Next I’m going to add an egg and scramble it up with the veggies. We good so far?”

“Yep!”

I finish going over the instructions and Piper helps me cook. Because I love torture, I have her stand in front of me while I direct her. I’m so tall that I can see the tops of her breasts, and when she breathes, I get a glimpse of the lacy bra she’s wearing. The woman has amazing taste in lingerie and shoes—when she wears them.

“Like the view?” she asks, turning her head a little to glance up at me.

“Very much.” I rub the back of my knuckles over each swell, and goosebumps appear on her soft skin. She doesn’t push me away or make a coy remark about the food burning. Oh no. Instead, she leans back and lets out the sexiest little moan, encouraging me to cup both breasts in my hands.

Dipping my head, I nibble on her ear and kiss a path down the curve of her neck. “Mmmm. I think I’ll have you for dessert first.”

“I-I think I’d l-like that,” she says, her stutter reappearing suddenly.

Her breaths come faster and my desire for her turns to panic. Are they too fast? Is this the beginning of an attack? Should I get her meds? Call 9-1-1?

Stay calm, Jase. Focus. Ask her first.

Panic rises as I let go of her and take a step back. “Are you okay? You feeling okay?”

Piper sets the wooden spatula down and turns to me, a questioning look on her face. “I’m fine. Actually, I was more than fine.”

“You’re not having an attack?”

Wordlessly she shakes her head.

“I thought…I thought with the way you were breathing and your stutter…f*ck.” I start to pace, then begin to open and close cabinets with a little more force than necessary. I hate not knowing what to do and I hate that what’s impacting her life doesn’t have an easy fix.

“Jase,” Piper says quietly, and I stop to look at her. She crosses the room to me and wraps her arms around my waist, looking up. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I was excited and breathing hard, not wheezing. I enjoy—no, I love—when you touch me. Please don’t stop because you’re afraid for me.”