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Of course.
She grabs the tin of tea. Climbs down from the counter. Her lips curl into a frown as she takes in my expression. "You're a know it all."
"How's that?"
"Your smirk. It's not attractive."
"Thanks, Mom. I guess it is true you attract more flies with honey than vinegar."
She groans. "I just…" She grabs the electric kettle. Fills it with water and turns it on. "Did you invite me out to torture me?"
"Yeah." That's a part of it. A huge part.
"Why is it you love pushing my buttons?"
"'Cause it's fun."
"Is that your entire life, doing what's fun?"
Kinda, yeah. I try to keep it that way. Even when it starts to feel empty.
Those phases hit. But I always push past them. Get to the other side. To where the empty feeling is gone and it's just fun again.
I move into the kitchen. Grab cups from the cabinet behind her. Turn and hand them to her.
It's weird, having her here.
Not like with other women. There's always a purpose to that. An I'm not gonna send you home hungry after last night.
I'm in character.
But this?
This is domestic.
Like my parents sitting to their Sunday afternoon coffees.
And that—
Fuck that.
"Thanks." She sets them on the counter.
"Sure thing."
She turns back to the counter. Watches the water steam. Pours it into the mugs, one at a time. "You have honey?"
"Yeah. Stay there." I reach for the high cabinet, but I'm too far away. I move closer. Until my crotch brushes her ass. And her back brushes my chest.
Fuck, she's tiny. Her head is barely at my shoulders.
My arm brushes her side as I reach for the honey.
I set it on the counter. Step backward. But releasing her does nothing to send blood back to my brain. "Spoons are in the drawer in front of you."
"Thanks." Her ass brushes my crotch as she bends to pull it open. She grabs two spoons. "How do you like it?"
I drop into something comfortable. Teasing her. "Rough."
