Page 137 of Tempting Wyatt

I let the batter sit for a few minutes with a towel on top of the bowl while I start the sausage. I cook it low and slow so it takes a bit longer than a batch of pancakes.

The skillet sizzles, a splatter of grease popping me on my bare stomach. I probably should’ve put a shirt on, but it’s too late now. I place a lid on the pan and train my brain to focus on the culinary tasks at hand instead of picturing myself impregnating the woman asleep in my bed and risking third-degree burns.

Never in my life has a thought like that even crossed my mind. Once in high school, my girlfriend’s period was three days late, and I felt like my life was over. Now, the thought of Ivy holding a little white stick with two pink lines, telling me she’s having my baby, sounds pretty damn perfect.

Which makes it official. I am losing my fucking mind over this woman. No, past tense. I’ve lost my mind already. It’s hers. Everything of mine is hers.

We’ve known each other two weeks. Hardly time to start planning a wedding.

Though, according to my dad, my parents had only just met when he told my mom she was the one.

“When you know, you know.”That’s what they always said, sharing secret looks and winks anytime the topic came up.

Do I know? An unfamiliar sensation hits my stomach, and I hope it’s just hunger.

Once the coffee finishes brewing, I decide to chug as much as possible so my sleep and sex-fogged brain willreturn to operating normally. At the moment, it’s fantasizing about an alternate universe.

“It smells like heaven in here,” a sleepy-voiced angel with wild, freshly fucked curls says as she enters the kitchen.

I turn, and her eyes go wide.

“Looks like a sexy devil is cooking though, so maybe it’s not heaven after all.”

“Hey, sleepy girl.” She’s wearing only my flannel haphazardly buttoned over her bare body. The sight is more appetizing than the food. I plate several pancakes for her and grab a fork.

“God, you cook too,” is her reply. Dazed eyes meet mine. “I think I love you.”

I drop the fork. It clatters loudly on the floor.

Ivy stands completely still with her eyes squeezed closed as I retrieve it. I peruse her bare legs on my way up.

I clear my throat, and she opens one eye to peer at me.

“It’s all the orgasms, lack of sleep, and the smell of coffee. I lost my mind for a second. Can we pretend I didn’t just say that completely inappropriate, weird, clingy chick thing?”

Thank fuck she has no idea of what I was thinking about before she came in here. MaybeI’mthe clingy chick.

Unsure of how to respond, I grab her a fresh fork and hand over the plate. “Sit. Eat. I’ll make you some coffee if you promise not to propose.”

She laughs. “I’ll try. But men who make me coffee really get my motor running.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

She’s so fucking adorable. I don’t know how to keep up my walls with this woman. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. She’s kind and hardworking, and to top it off, she has asense of humor. It’s no wonder my siblings and mom are all crazy about her.

Hell,I’mcrazy about her.

And I have to let her go.

I hand over her coffee, then watch her put too much cream and sugar in it.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly.

“Welcome.” I turn back to the stove, noting how quickly our time together is passing.

We have a few more days but then she’ll, what? Pack up and go back to California like this never happened? Maybe she’ll remember me as the mean man with the axe who nearly dicked her to death.

Or maybe she won’t remember me at all. Her life in LA is probably pretty intense, surrounded by celebrities or whatever.