I had pretty countertops and there was food on the stove.
“That smells good.” I inched closer to the pot, not sure if I could lift the lid or not. “No peeking. It might be rice or something temperamental.”
Rice was the extent of mythe pot is covered for a reasonknowledge, but it seemed smart to leave it alone so I didn’t accidentally piss off Rohan.
“It’s soup.” The sound of him coming into the room hit me right as he chuckled. “And thank you.”
“It’s amazing.” The food. The kitchen. The blow job. “Thank you.”
Leaning against the wall by the fridge, he lifted one eyebrow. “Not so frustrated anymore?”
“Me? Frustrated?” I wasnotgoing to admit that. “No, I’m very grateful.”
And horny again.
And productive.
And I had a clean kitchen.
The smirk on his face said he’d guessed at least some of those thoughts, but since he didn’t seem to mind, I didn’t feel guilty about bouncing over. “Hi. I got a lot of work done.”
That meant I got a reward.
I waited to be fucked or forced to my knees, but he chuckled and kissed my forehead. “No orgasms yet. We’ve got to get a few things done and you need food in your stomach, not just cum.”
I had every intention of at least pouting, but my stomach took that moment to grumble.
Shit.
“Fine.” I realized how that sounded right after it came out, so I smiled and tried to fix it. “Thank you for feeding me and remembering I like soup.”
Shaking his head, Rohan didn’t bother trying to look frustrated with me. “You’re welcome. But while we’re on things you like and don’t...have you started eating cereal?”
I couldn’t hold back the shudder that went through me as I gagged.
“I thought so.”
When I got the visceral reaction under control, I shook my head. “No.”
Rohan was trying not to laugh but it looked painful for him. “Then can you explain why you had a bowl of leftover Cocoa Puffs in your sink?”
Huh?
“Um, no, I can’t.” Automatically looking toward the sink that I could actually see for the first time in ages, I frowned. “I haven’t used a bowl in at least a week and that was for canned soup to tide me over until my Chinese food arrived. And I rinsed and washed it right away because I was scared of what would happen if I left it there.”
Things kept multiplying and it was getting overwhelming.
I wasn’t going to explain that, though, because I knew it sounded nuts.
“What color are your dishes?” Rohan’s question should’ve been stupid since he’d just spent God only knew how many hours finding the bottom of my kitchen, but the expression on his face said it was a good one.
“Um, blue, right? Several shades of blue?” Rohan was smarter than I was about nearly everything practical, so I was starting to question my memory. “I like blue.”
Didn’t I?
“Come let me show you something.” Taking my hand, Rohan led me over to a box on the counter I’d thought was recycling or something like that. “Do these dishes look familiar?”
“They’reflowered.” In at least a dozen different patterns. “Dishes should be solid colors so people don’t get distracted.”
