But that’s just not us. The thought of being with anyone other than James makes me feel yucky inside.

That said, his jealousy and possessiveness are all too delicious, and my dick swells at the memory of him, growly and mad, kissing the word mine onto my lips for the world to see.

In a lot of ways, I’m sure between our codependency and his jealousy, we’re a few cards short of a full deck when it comes to a healthy relationship. But then there’s so much about us as a couple that isn’t normal. And I’m totally fine with that.

What we have works for us. As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters.

What I’m really dwelling on right now is what he said about me running my own restaurant.

I can’t say I haven’t thought about it… Originally, before everything happened last Christmas, my plan was to take a year off after high school and figure out what I wanted to do next. As it seems, that’s exactly what’s happened. Only the year consisted of less soul-searching and researching online courses, and more being bent over and humped silly by my adoptive father.

But in the midst of all the sex and cuddling, home décor, dinners by the ocean, sunbathing and kissing and being almost annoyingly happy down here in paradise, I’ve had time to ruminate on plans for my future. And I think working in some sort of restaurant would make me beyond happy.

What I want is the opportunity to design my own menu, create scrumptious food and serve it to anyone who will love it. To bring people joy with my cooking.

I love cooking for only James, but I want to share my passion with others who might also devour it with enthusiasm.

I just wonder if it’s even possible… And how I would go about making it happen.

“It smells so motherloving good in here,” the rumbly voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I peek up at the doorway where my big, sexy, muscley man is standing, in nothing but gray sweatpants—his usual attire while we’re at home—dark hair tousled about, smirking at me. “My mouth is watering.”

“Same.” I shoot him a wicked grin and he chuckles.

Striding into the room, he makes a beeline for me, and my stomach flips and flops all crazy-like. It still happens, even a year later. He makes my knees shake, and I’m beginning to think it’ll always be like this.

When he reaches me, he smooshes himself up to my back, holding me against the counter while his lips tease the sensitive flesh of my neck. I’m immediately coated in chills.

“Mmm… But this smell right here is a million times more delicious than anything happening inside that oven,” he growls, nipping me just hard enough that I flinch and purr.