Under His Roof - Love Under Lockdown

I rummage through the fridge and cabinets, gathering all the items I need for tonight’s meal. I set the meat to cook and chop up some vegetables. I start to feel calm as I prepare a small salad for us. It’s only been a few minutes since I left Matt’s office, but my mental state has improved a lot already.

I’m working very hard on calming my nerves and feelings when suddenly I get a weird sensation at the base of my neck. I turn around and am surprised to see that he followed me into the kitchen.

“I just came to get a drink of water,” he explains, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh, uh, ok,” I say, a little nervously.

I force my attention back to the food. The sink is across the kitchen from where I am standing and I will myself not to look at it as he pours water from the filtered faucet.

A few seconds later I feel a shiver run down my back. He’s caught me off guard again. I can feel his breath on my neck as he leans in behind me to peek at what I am cooking.

I’m too anxious to decide whether I’m more excited or uncomfortable about this close contact with him.

I feel so breathless and unnerved, and I can’t stay still. I scurry away and pretend to chop up some celery.

“I am making my own modified version of beef soup,” I tell him.

I keep my back to him.

I can’t handle looking at him right now.

My nerves are so on edge.

He seems like he admires my skills.

I can tell by his tone of voice when he says, “I would give anything for a woman who cooks good food.”

A few moments of silence pass between us because I am too overwhelmed by everything to think of a response.

Then something electric courses through me and impulsively I ask him, “What else would you like in a woman?”

I have no idea why I said that, but I did. I pause, holding still, the celery forgotten on the counter in front of me.

He dodges the question by quickly asking me, “Well, let’s start with you, shall we? What do you like in a man?”

After a few seconds of thought, I resume chopping the celery as I talk.

“Well, I guess I like a driven and gentle man. One who will actually respect and love me.”

I feel silly for admitting something so sappy out loud. I’m finished with the vegetables, so I put the knife in the sink. I turn around just in time to see him smirk. I stop for a second and stare at him. That expression of his alone is enough to start a fire in me.

I’m frozen to the spot, as he takes a step closer. He leans his face down to mine and says in a low voice, “I know someone who has those qualities.”

He then takes another step towards me, coming close enough to touch me if he wanted.

“What about in bed?” he asks, in that low voice of his.

This question catches me even more off-guard. I struggle with how to answer. No words will come to mind as long as he is looking at me like that. I can’t bear to tear my eyes away from his gaze.

The connection between us suddenly breaks when the timer I had set for the food goes off. I am saved from answering his questions, at least for now. I hurry past him to the stove. I’m grateful for the distraction, because I can now face away from him and calm myself.

After I check the food, I will myself to turn back around and look at him again.

He stares at me and says, “Give me a few minutes, then I’ll come back down in time to set the table,” before he walks out of the kitchen and out of sight.

I don’t say anything back, but I do think to myself how strange an interaction that was.

Why is he so interested in my personal life?

I shake my head and stir the chopped celery into the soup.

Now that he is upstairs, I feel more normal. I like cooking, and I breathe in a little of the aroma of the soup, feeling proud. I cut up some other vegetables to add in, then wash the utensils I was just using. I add the finishing touches to the salad, then set it on the counter. I let the soup simmer lightly as it’s almost ready. Dinner’s ready to go.

He said he would set the table, so I pull the dishes from the cabinet and stack them on the counter for him. I’m trying my best not to dwell on those suggestive questions that he asked me, or the way he looked at me.

The last thing I need is to be horny during my dinner with him.