“Do I have to take my shirt off?”
“Absolutely.” She lifts the hem and splays her warm palm over my chest. “I’ve grown pretty fond of this chest.”
Tell me less.
I tug the shirt off and toss it aside. “Let’s make some terrible pudding. Can I eat it off you?”
“That was kind of the idea.”
I pull her closer by the bottom of her shirt. “You should be shirtless too.”
Smiling, she says, “I suppose it would only be fair.”
She yanks her shirt off, then unfastens her bra and dangles it off one finger like a pendulum before letting it fly.
Cookie will probably find it before we do, but right now my focus is on Nora shirtless in my kitchen.
“What were we doing?” I ask.
She laughs as she pulls a saucepan out of one of the cupboards, then locates a whisk.
“How do you know where everything is?” I ask, my gaze following her breasts. “I never know where anything is.”
“It’s a talent.”
She pours milk into the saucepan and raises her eyebrows. “Are you going to participate, or are you just going to watch?”
“I wish it were magically possible to do both,” I say, but I grab the pudding powder and open it. I pour it in from behind her, my chest pressing against her back. She leans into me as she starts whisking the mixture, and the scent of chocolate floods the air.
“This was a good idea,” I admit. “Maybe I like this Shirtless Chef.”
“I’m holding you to that,” she says as I lean in and lightly bite her neck.
It’s laughably easy to make the pudding.
We still almost burn it.
When it’s done, we let it cool, and then I dip a rubber spatula into it and lift it to her lips.
“Is it good?”
She smiles teasingly at me as she licks the spatula, her eyes locked with mine.
“You know exactly what that’s doing to me,” I say.
She takes another lick and then leans up and kisses me, her tongue coated with chocolate.
“What do you think?” she asks.
I use one arm to clear the counter, pushing everything to one side in a quick swipe. Then I wrap my hands around her waist and lift her up onto the counter while she lets out a throaty laugh.
“I think we should play my new favorite game,” I say.
She weaves a hand into my hair. “Which one is that?”
“The one where I lick sweet things off you, then bury my headbetween your legs.”
Her smile is full of heat as she says, “It just so happens I like that game too.”
