It's true. I am going to tell her. And figure out how the fuck this can be casual if I'm confessing all the ugly shit in my head.
"I'll make you breakfast." I slide my hand under her t-shirt. Press my palm into her stomach. I want to fuck her senseless, yeah, but I want my arms wrapped around her more.
It's weird.
She looks up at me with a soft smile. Shakes her head. "I'll cook."
"Set my kitchen on fire?"
"I'm not that hopeless."
I arch a brow.
She steps back to fold her arms. Cocks her hips. Dons that adorable don't mess with me look. "I'll prove it."
I motion to the stove. "Go ahead."
"Maybe… just, well, I am going to look up a recipe."
"And follow it to a T?"
"Of course. That's how you learn. Or you… you don't use recipes?"
"They're boring."
"Then I'm boring."
"You're not."
Her cheeks flush. "Thanks." She moves to the fridge, pulls the door open, assess the offerings. "Eggs. And bacon."
"I can walk you through it."
She looks to me and cocks a brow. "I suppose a hands-on lesson is better than a recipe." Her gaze trails over my chest, stomach, crotch. "And later…"
"You want to get hands on?"
She laughs. "Okay. I'm not a dirty talk expert yet."
"You'll get there."
Her flush spreads over her chest. She makes a show of bending over to reach for something in the fridge.
Fuck, she has a nice ass.
That's a perfect way to turn off my thoughts.
I bring my hand to her ass. Tug the boxers up her thigh. Run my fingers over her skin. "After."
"Oh." She slides the eggs back onto the shelf. Rises to her feet. Presses the door closed.
I bring both hands to her hips and pin her to the refrigerator door.
Her breath gets heavy. "You have a thing for the kitchen."
"I have a thing for your body against mine." I can't exactly deny the pattern. I slide her shorts down her ass. I'm moving too fast. Using her.
Usually, that doesn't bother me. Yeah, I'm an asshole. Whatever. It's not like I'm lying to anyone. I make it clear it's just sex. So what if I'm using a woman to get out of my head?