"But is it?"
"You made it." He offers me the spoon. "It's drowned in garlic."
"You trying to get out of kissing me?"
He smiles. "Trying to torture you with garlic breath."
I suck the bite of greens off the spoon, chew, swallow. It is good. Oil. Garlic. Hell, even the kale is good.
It tastes better, having Mal here.
The world is brighter with Mal here.
Those words rise up in my throat again. I try to swallow them down. I try to tell them to get lost.
Fuck it.
I steal another bite of kale and get busy fixing sencha. By the time the tea is ready, the food is done. Mal puts it onto plates and sets it up on the counter.
I slide onto a stool.
He slides into the seat next to mine. "Dad is staying at the hospital tonight."
I nod and stare back into his eyes. As much as I hate life intruding, I want to be the shoulder he can lean on. If he wants to talk, I want to listen. "That's sweet."
Mal nods. "Ethan really promise you ten orgasms?"
"From him?"
"No, but that would be more fair."
I laugh. "No, he didn't promise any."
"He's underselling my skills."
"True." I take a bite of my salmon. "You're good for at least one."
"One?"
"Maybe two."
"Baby, you wound me."
I smile. "Three?"
"You tell me."
"I don't want you to make promises your cock can't keep."
"My cock always keeps its promises." He drags his fingertips over the inside of my knee. "But if it doesn't—"
"That's not what always means."
"I have two hands and a mouth."
"And a cornucopia of sex toys."
"And that." He takes a bite of his food, chews, swallows. "You want to stay the night?"