Nice try. I’m not falling for that twice in one day.
“Wicked boy…”
A rogue hand caresses as far as I allow.
“Ohhh…”
He holds a finger to his lips, hushing me.
With an impish smile, he bends over to reach for his pants.
That luscious ass is right there for the taking.
He backs into me, and I thumb the rim lightly.
Be good,I scold myself.
Look the other way.
My mind takes a detour.
Fuck looking the other way.
I dress quickly to rein it in.
“Hungry?” he murmurs in my ear.
“Mmm,” is all I can say.
Seductive minx.
???
We stumble down the hallway.
“Perfect timing, boys.”
Beth’s mitted hands carry a porcelain dish from the oven to the table.
“Grab that jug of gravy on the bench, will ya?”
The chicken pie is still steaming when it hits the plate.
Pastry gives way under my fork, crispy and golden at the edges.
She nudges a small woven basket toward us, removing the tea towel that covers it.
Softly knotted bread rolls with herbed butter.
Roast potatoes with gravy, and caramelised onions in the bowl beside it.
I dare to admit that it rivals my mum's cooking, and that’s saying something.
Just when I can’t possibly fit another bite, she slides a hot plum cobbler from the oven.
Fruit bubbles at the edges, dark and jammy beneath a blanket of crumble.
A scoop of vanilla bean ice cream crowns each serving of pudding.
