Page 11 of Whiteout

She glances up at me through her thick lashes. “You’re laying it on thick.”

I smirk, enjoying this game of cat and mouse we’ve started. “Am I? I thought I was just being honest.”

She swallows hard, and I can see that tiny flicker of desire ignite behind that cautious exterior she shows to everyone. It feels like an invitation. A smile plays on my lips as I pull back slightly to set the cutting board down on the counter.

“What else do you have in mind besides omelets?”

She swallows hard and fiddles with the egg carton like it's suddenly too complicated to handle. “Just lunch.”

Her nervousness is adorable. She turns away slightly to chop some vegetables but not before I catch that small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.She likes this.

“Lunch is great,” I say softly, letting my breath brush against her ear. “But what about dessert?” I lean back just enough to gauge her reaction. Her breathing quickens, and she licks her lips. She’s turned on.

“Are you okay?” She doesn’t look at me, focusing intently on the egg she’s whisking.

“Yeah, just—”

“Just what?” I nudge, tilting my head toward her, giving her space to back away if she wants. But she doesn’t move. She leans into me instead.

“I don’t know. It’s just… All of this feels new. I don’t do well with new.”

“New can be good.”

“Yeah?” She finally looks up at me, those wide eyes searching mine as if she’s trying to decipher some unspoken truth hidden in their depths.

“Yeah Cherry, you’re safe with me.”

I wait for her to pull away, for that wall of uncertainty to come crashing back down. But it doesn't happen; she stands firm, our bodies pressed against each other.

“What if I don’t want to be safe?” The words spill from her lips before she can catch them.

That sounds like a challenge. She's got no idea what she's stepping into with me- the real me. “Tell me what you do want."

The kitchen is quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire drifting in from the living room and our breaths mixing in the air between us. Her fingers tremble slightly as they wrap around the whisk again.

And just like that, everything shifts in an instant; my instincts scream that now is right.

“It’s okay if you don’t know what you want or how to ask for it. We can find out together.”

I slide my hands around her waist, pulling her against me. Her curves fit perfectly against my body. She's shy, but I can tell there's more to her; she wants to take risks, wants to be adventurous.

She bites her lip again, and my eyes are drawn to the plump, pink flesh between her teeth. I want to kiss her, to suck on that lip, to taste her. But I hold back, letting her make the next move.

“I’m not sure.”

“Sure about what, Cherry?”

Her eyes darted around the kitchen, everywhere but at me. “I want to be bad.”

I smile at her choice of words. She might be 32 but she's inexperienced and I fucking love it. My fingers begin to walk up her body. “Tell me what happens when you’re bad.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never…”

“Never what?” I prompt, my fingers reaching her neck, massaging her sensitive skin there. “Never been bad?”

She shakes her head, her eyes closing at my touch. “Not like I want to be.”

“Like what?” I pause, my fingers stopping their motion. “Spit it out, Cherry.”

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