I take another bite of the pancake. “What exactly would you be bribing me to do?”
Peter catches me around the hips and pulls me into him, and his voice is on my lips. “I can think of so many things.”
Instead of letting him kiss me, I take another bite of the pancake, a burst of chocolate exploding on my tongue. But he kisses me anyway, and I know he’s been sneaking some of the chocolate chips because he tastes like chocolate too. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to eat more than like…two of these.”
“They do really well in the freezer,” he says. “You can have the rest later.”
“Good,” But there’s something else I want. “So how do we transition from this to sex, because you promised me, but you’re still in charge, so I don’t really know how this works, and—”
Peter cuts off my words quickly with a kiss. “That sounds an awful lot like worrying.”
“Not worrying,” I say, shaking my head and pretending like just kissing him doesn’t make me wet and want to take all my clothes off. “Just logistics.”
He presses his mouth to my ear, and now I have goosebumps. “Strip,” he says softly. “How’s that for logistics?”
I manage to find my voice. “Pretty straight forward.”
“I think that’s what you’re going to need while we try this or you’re going to get too caught up in worrying about how we transition from pancakes to sex.”
“I mean, yeah…”
Peter smirks at me. “I think it’s a pretty natural transition, but I’m going to show you.”
I take off my clothes, and notice the way Peter is watching me, holding still like he wants to grab me and put my back on the kitchen table and fuck me till I scream. That actually sounds nice, and I blush, because that’s crazy. That’s something that gets written into a script in a movie and not something that happens in real life. “What are you thinking?” he asks as I take off the last piece of my outfit.
“Nothing.”
“Than why are you blushing?”
“I’m not.”
Peter sighs, and pulls me to him, lifts me so that I’m sitting on the counter and he’s standing between my legs. I can see that he’s hard when I look down, his cock tenting those thin pants, and we’re so close. Peter doesn’t seem to notice how it easy it would be for him to just…slip inside. But then his fingers are on my chin, making me look at him. “Time out.”
“From what?”
“From me being in charge for a second, because we need to talk about this.”
“What? I didn’t change my mind, you can still be in charge.”
“No, Amber, the fact that you don’t want to tell me things.” He takes some chocolate chips and dumps a pile into the skillet without any batter. The stove is on a low heat, but they start to soften and shine as I look at them.
“It was just a thought.”
“About sex?”
I nod.
“So why don’t you want to say it?” I reach out and wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, try to kiss him, force my breasts more firmly against his chest so that he’ll be distracted. He doesn’t buy it.
“I just didn’t think it mattered.”
Peter presses his forehead to mine, and I’m flashing back through time to all the times that we’ve done that before. The way it grounds us here together, in a moment, and I take a deep breath. “I know that it’s going to take time,” he says, “and that we’re different, and that it’s never going to be exactly the same, because it can’t be. But we used to tell each other everything. There wasn’t anything that happened in my life or mind that I didn’t want to share with you, even after we separated. And I want you to know that hasn’t changed for me. I don’t care if it’s a silly thought or a simple thought or a sexy thought. You don’t have thoughts that I don’t want to hear, Amber.”
Then, finally, he kisses me, and it’s filled with delicious, slow heat. When he finally pulls back and the world rushes back in, it feels new. Because that’s so simple, and yet I can see it. I understand and I remember, and to make this work we’re going to have to talk to each other. That’s all there is to it. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
He nips my bottom lip. “Tell me what made you blush.”
I glance away from him. “I saw you watching me undress, and it kind of looked like you wanted to grab me, throw me on the table and fuck me.” I blush again, because saying these words out loud is harder than it feels like it should be. “Till I screamed. And I thought that might be nice.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to do,” he says. “Time in.” My breath hitches as he reaches over to the pan of now melted chocolate and runs a finger through it. “That’s what I plan to do after I finish a couple of other things.”