Sugar (The Henchmen MC 12)

And I swear on all that is holy - and unholy - I don't know where the hell my next sentence came from.

"I can make something."

"You cook?"

"I cook," I agreed with a nod.

"Well, then don't put your face on," he said, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Only Jamie seemed to grasp what he was asking. And I know this because she was trying her damnedest to keep her lips from twitching. "Can I get you a drink..."

"Sugar," he supplied immediately.

And then, she didn't even try to hide her smile. "Jamie," she said, offering her hand. "Spelled the masculine way. And my mother wonders why I ended up licking pussy," she said easily, making Sugar chuckle. She turned back to me, unable to stop her eyes from dancing. "Why don't you go get fly with your sweet honey buns," she offered, paraphrasing the song effortlessly. Did I mention how much I loved her? "I will get this, well, I can't say 'fine young gentleman' in this case, can I? This questionable leather-clad biker a drink."

"Don't embarrass me, Mom," I teased in a whining high school-girl voice.

"We're just gonna politic with some fly conversation," she said, not letting up on the Baby Bash. The poor man was never going to live that song down.

"Well, while you do that, throw a pot of water on for me," I said, wandering back into the bathroom.

As I stood there in front of the mirror... I actually decided against wearing my contacts. And ended up only throwing on some mascara and filling in my brows a bit before making my way out to find Jamie and Sugar in the kitchen, Sugar leaned back against the fridge, Jamie the island, both with similar laid-back body language, talking about something casually.

I realized I liked that sight too. Sugar getting along with my friend. It wasn't something I had ever seen before. In general, I kept my friends and my conquests as separate as possible.

"Alright," Jamie said, putting her beer down on the counter. "I will leave you two crazy kids to it. Savvs has Hannibal. I will grab him for you."

"You're the best," I told her as she headed to the door.

And as she closed it, I shit you not, she was humming the damn song.

"What were you guys talking about?" I asked, moving into my kitchen, feeling almost a little, well, shy? No. It couldn't have been shy. Maybe just... uncertain, on unfamiliar ground. I never cooked for a man I was sleeping with. I never had them in my kitchen watching me.

"You," he said easily as I turned away to check the water which was still stubbornly not boiling.

"All bad, I hope," I said, turning back, going to move past him to the fridge. But his hand moved out, snagging my chin, forcing me to stop and face him. "What?" I asked, tone just a tad snippy.

"You left them out," he observed, clearly meaning my contacts.

"Yeah. I don't always wear them at home."

"Why do you wear them at all?"

"Why do you care?"

"Stop being a pain in the ass. Just answer the question."

"I am blonde-haired and blue-eyed."

"And you hate being that... what? Cookie-cutter?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"I liked the brown," he said, making a knot curl in my stomach. "But I like the blue too," he finished, and just like that, the knot unraveled. Something must have been there in my eyes too, because his went almost a little confused before his hand finally dropped. "So, what are you making me?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"What I have in the fridge," I told him, moving away. "Which looks like... some chicken alfredo. If that works," I added, somewhat used to picky eaters. Jamie didn't eat much cheese. Ronnie hated the smell of fish. Savea didn't eat meat.

"I'll eat anything," he started, then saw the smirk I shot him from where I was grabbing an armful of ingredients. "Including that," he added with a wicked smile that made my sex clench hard.

So then I started cooking, throwing the chicken into a skillet to brown as I poured pasta into the water, and mixed the cream and cheese and spices.

I did this while he drank his beer, both of us in silence.

It wasn't until I was finally mixing the sauce ingredients into the pasta that I felt him move in behind me, putting his head on my shoulder. "Smells good," he said, reaching past me to stick his finger into the sauce, bringing it up over my shoulder to suck it into his mouth.

I swear I almost came right then and there.

"Fuck, woman," he sexy-growled at me. "You can cook."

"I told you I could."

"Mmhm," he said, moving back a step. "Where are the plates?"

"Are you going to set the table?" I asked, half-turning toward him. "Seriously?"

"Not if you don't tell me where the plates are," he said, systematically opening cabinets looking for them. "Ah, there they are," he said, pulling out two, looking down at them, then snorting.