Page 111 of After All This Time

What if my little heart desires to pick you up, throw you on the counter, and kiss the shit out of you until you come apart screaming my name at the top of your lungs?

I re-adjust my shorts to make the bulge less obvious. “I’m going to sit down, then.”

She shoves her hands in my face, giving me a thumbs up.

As I sit down at the kitchen table, she brings over a bowl of tortellini. There are pieces of shaved parmesan cheese and ribbons of basil on top.

It’s a goddamn masterpiece.

“It’s so pretty. I don’t want to eat it.”

“Then go ahead and starve,” she says, going back to the counter to fill up a bowl for herself and bringing it over to the table.

“Quoting Beauty and the Beast I see. Seriously though, that was uncalled for.”

She gets bit by the chuckle bug, covering her mouth. “I’m not even sorry.”

“I know you aren’t. That’s the sad part.”

She changes the subject. “Hey, you barely moved from that chair earlier. Did you actually get up off your ass at any point?

“I got up.”

She crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up. “To do what?”

Don’t look at her breasts. Don’t do it. Concentrate on her face, man.

“To go to the bathroom. I can be more specific if you want me to be.”

Her mouth shifts to one side before she presses her lips together. “I’m good.”

“I told you I was editing my book.”

“Oh, you were in your editing cave.” She leans back against the chair, crossing her arms and putting one of her legs over the other.

“My what?”

“Well, it’s like the writing cave, but it’s not, since it’s editing. Wait, you don’t know what the cave is…at all?”

“I’ve never heard that term in my life.”

“It’s like a blackhole you can’t escape. You’re hypnotized by your computer screen and keyboard. And you can’t bring yourself to do anything else.”

“Ah,” I say as I pick up my fork, stabbing a piece of tortellini onto it and putting it into my mouth.

Fuck, that’s good.

I roll my eyes so hard it feels like they’ve fallen into the back of my head. “Where the hell did you learn to cook?”

“Why?”

“Did you even eat any of it yet?”

“I’m getting there.”

I watch her as she picks up a piece of tortellini, but her eyes meet mine before she shoves one into her pretty little mouth.

“Can I help you?”

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