AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Alright, so it says he needs a pedal car, a pit crew, a color choice, team name, and the option to have matching team shirts, either through the order form here or an outside source if you prefer,” I call over my shoulder, holding the crinkled form in my hands.
Silence comes from behind me, so I lean back further, looking over my shoulder at her.
She's chewing the corner of her lip, staring down at the floor as she continues folding.
“D,” I call out again.
Blinking quickly, she inhales a breath, letting it out as she turns to face me with brows raised.
“Where'd you go?” I ask softly.
She simply shakes her head with a heavy sigh as she folds another shirt. “I've always been here.”
I find myself a bit broken by the comment. It feels so much deeper than just words.
“Hot sauce,” I declare suddenly, pointing my finger to the sky. She cocks her head at me as I continue, “You got any hot sauce?”
I stand from the chair, walking around the kitchen table, and make my way to the fridge. She stands from where she's sitting, dropping the clothes from her lap back into the laundry basket.
“No...no,” she says quickly. “I'm sorry, I—”
“I have this thing,” I begin, gripping the handle of the fridge. “I need some Frank's RedHot Sauce dripping from my pepperoni in order to eat it. Spice. I need spice, D.”
She throws her body before me, her back slamming against the fridge door with a loud thud, blocking me from opening it. My eyes widen, and I stare at her like the crazy little psycho she is.
“Tell me Eric's head is in a large pickle jar in this fridge and I'll feel better about what just happened here.”
Her mouth drops open at my comment before her lips pull into a grin and she laughs with a scoff.
“I fucking wish,” she deadpans. “No, it's just…” She shakes her head, shoulders tight to her neck as she holds the door shut with her body. “It's just, peering through a person's fridge is a very personal and private manner. It's…” She thinks for a moment, wrinkling her nose as she winces. “Invasive?”
A dry laugh leaves my throat. “Invasive?”
She shifts on her heels, looking behind me, then nods.
“Baby,” I begin in a cracked tone, leaning forward to whisper the words in her ear. “I just had you bent over the kitchen table. Legs spread. Taking you from behind. Raw.” The blush rises from her neck to her cheeks as I pull back to look her in the eyes. “This is hardly invasive in comparison.”
Her lashes flutter and I can practically hear her thighs slap together tightly, warding off her pleasure at the simple mention of the fun we had.
“But I will respect your privacy and step away.”
She eyes me warily as I move away, slowly creeping backwards with my hands raised, my eyes focused on hers as if she's a wild animal I've come upon in her jungle. I grab my car keys from the table, turning to step into my shoes. Her eyes narrow and she absentmindedly fiddles with the end of her ponytail, watching me curiously as I stand up straight again.
I'm no fool.
“I'll be back.”
“Pizzas are generally delivered, Lake,” she says with an edge. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She's no fool either.
I lean back against the door, biting my bottom lip. “They don't just throw in free cheese bread for anyone who calls. This face”—I draw an imaginary circle around it—“gets the cheese bread.”
I give her my best overly-confident grin.
It's funny how I can practically hear her calling me a cocky prick in my head. Grinning sweetly and arrogantly, I turn, demanding she lock the door behind me, and head out to do what needs to be done.
About forty minutes later, I'm balancing two pizza boxes on my head while white grocery bags litter the length of my arms as I kick the bottom of her door. Luckily, some little old lady let me in the main entrance while I was walking in from the parking lot.
