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He had eggs, bread, and cinnamon.
“French toast?” he asked with a smirk.
“You’re going to cook for me?”
“I always used to make you French toast, baby.”
“And you always messed it up andIremade it.”
“Not this time,” he said.
He moved in for a kiss.
I took the opportunity, grabbed his face and kissed him hard.
My tongue flickering and teasing.
It turned me on when Joe kissed me right back.
Considering where my mouth had recently been.
I then just sat there on the counter, marveling at the man before me.
He cracked the eggs with force, but not too much to add in shell.
He used a fork to whisk the eggs.
I stared at the muscles on his forearms.
I thought about how fast those forearm muscles allowed his fingers to move… when he was touching me…
Get yourself together, Dr. Autumn!
You’re uncontrollably horny!
That I was.
Years of subpar sexual activity did something to a person.
It created a shell.
And Joe had smashed that shell into pieces.
“I can’t believe this,” I said. “You’re making me something to eat.”
“This was our thing, right? We always did breakfast for dinner.”
“Cheap and easy.”
“And the fact that we usually ate dinner at like two in the morning.”
I smiled. “That’s because you insisted on practicing until midnight.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong here, but you were the nerd. Always studying. Always worried. You were the one who set my schedule.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, baby. You. You had a thing. You always studied until midnight. Remember that? You refused to study into the next day. It was like a superstition or something.”
