Page 101 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

"Fine,” he says as he releases Sam. “Since I'm in a good mood, you can hug our girl.”

"Our girl?" Sam inquires.

“Yeah, I guess, although technically for the next thirty minutes, she’s still my girl.”

"Look how domesticated he's gotten," Adam winks at me. "You've really tamed him. What's your secret?"

"Great bowling skills," I respond, and they all laugh, Sam finally pulling me into a hug.

‘Would you care for dinner?” Adam asks, because he’s a sweetheart.

"Yes, I would," I say as Sam shifts his nose to my neck, where my nape meets my shoulders, and inhales. God. A forbidden heat runs down my body, and I press my legs together.

“You smell good,” he murmurs.

“You smell good too,” I respond, and Adam says after some time. “Let her go so she can eat, Sam."

Sam does it reluctantly, extracting his body from mine in bits and pieces before he finally runs a hand down my cheek, pressing a kiss there. Jake’s hand is still intertwined with mine, and when I glance down, he seems totally relaxed, totally okay with this.

“I have dibs on sitting on your right side, too," he says. "So I can stare at that mole and kiss it when I need to."

Sam stands back, evaluating, “Maybe, but her left side also has the dimple that I want to lick."

"You’re right, but then the right has–"

"Okay, both of you stop segmenting and arguing about my face," I say. "I'm hungry. I need to be fed."

"Say less,” Sam says, and he sweeps me off my feet, leaving me to squeal and throw my arms around his neck. He sets me on one of the stools on the Island and kisses me on the cheek before letting me go.

I blush as Adam looks on in amusement.

“Did you make pasta again?”

"Yup. Rigatoni. You're going to like it even more than the last one."

"I don't know. That last one was pretty darn great."

“Hm,” is his response.

But I end up eating those words a few minutes later, as I try not to moan over the dish, the flavors bursting on my tongue.

I try and fail by the way, because a few moans slip out here and there.

And from their heated gaze, they notice.

Something tells me we might not make it through this dinner.

32

ADAM

Iwatch Chelsea eat, every savored bite bringing me a rush of satisfaction. I love the fact that she loves my cooking.

Cooking didn’t start as something I enjoyed. It was borne out of necessity, because my siblings and I needed to eat, and neither mom nor dad was home often enough to account for more than just a hurried breakfast and a quick dinner. Lunch was usually up to us, which meant it was up to me.

The younger ones might have been happy eating whatever junk was lying around, but I didn’t want them developing diabetes or some other chronic illnesses while they were at it, which would have led to us having to spend even more money that we didn’t have on hospital bills.

So I cracked open a cookbook, watched a few YouTube videos, and put up a menu for the week. Over time, I learned how to make even the cheapest ingredients taste good, how to account for the pickiest of palates, like what my little brother had. But eventually, I started to enjoy the routine of it, and also the creativity.