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“That smells amazing!”York exclaims, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright as he enters the kitchen with Pen forty-five minutes later. Pen, on the other hand, wrinkles her nose.
“Thanks, I think?” I reply, my gaze roving over Pen who gives me a small smile. “You okay?”
She’s wearing her pyjama shorts and tank top with thick knee high socks, looking sexy as fuck fresh out of the shower.
“Yeah, of course I am!” she says, almost too brightly as she strides over to the sink and pours herself a glass of water. “Just a little thirsty.”
“Mate, I’ve sure worked up an appetite,” York says, throwing his arm over Pen’s shoulder and drawing her into his side once she’s got her drink. He’s wearing grey joggers and nothing else and whilst women are my preference, scratch that,Penis my preference, I appreciate he’s a good looking man. Besides, we’ve spent so much time together sharing our girl and making love as a group that there have been several occasions where we’ve enjoyed the closeness of each other whilst loving our girl, and I ain’t ashamed of any of it. Love is love, right?
“I bet you have,” I comment, throwing him a wink as Pen settles into his side. “Are you feeling… better?”
“There’s no better cure forgrumpy-arse-itisthan alone time with our girl,” he throws back with a smile.
“Can’t disagree with you there,” I say, wondering if they fucked before or during their shower. Knowing York, it was likely both considering his enthusiasm for sliding around in slippery soap suds. There’s been a couple of occasions over the past few years he’s gotten overzealous with his use of body wash and almost gave himself a concussion when he slipped and fell. Both times he saved Pen from the same fate, his instincts to protect her overriding the instinct to protect himself.
I guess we’re all the same in that regard.
“When will dinner be ready?” York asks, his stomach grumbling in protest.
“I’m going to let the paella simmer on low for a while,” I answer, rinsing the chopping board and placing it on the drainer with the other washed dishes. “When Dax and Xeno return home, it should be ready to eat.”
“Did you speak to them? I got a missed call on my phone,” York says, pulling his phone from his pocket and resting it on the kitchen island as he grabs the bottle of Pinot I put out, and pours us all a glass.
“Yeah. Should be home in about forty minutes,” I say, reaching for the integrated touch screen on the fridge and turning the volume down on the radio so we can talk.
Pen shakes her head when York offers her the glass of wine. “Not for me. Water’s fine. Did Dax say anything to you about how the appointment went?”
I shake my head, wiping my hands on the towel. “He said he’s good, and that he’ll fill us in when he gets home. That’s about it.”
“Okay,” Pen nods, but I can’t help but notice the worry in her eyes.
“This is Dax we’re talking about. If there’s anything going on, then we’ll figure it out together, just like we always do,” I say, striding over to her and pulling her into my arms. She smells of cocoa butter body lotion, and lemon zest. I can’t help it, my cock stirs.
“I know that. I do,” she replies, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Doesn’t stop me from worrying though.”
“The big guy’s gonna be fine,” York says, trying his best to reassure her. “I swear to fuck, he’s got nine-lives.”
“You’re right,” Pen agrees, leaning back and looking up at me. “Thanks for cooking dinner tonight. Thanks for choreographing such an incredible routine. Thanks for being you.”
“Yeah, ditto to that,” York adds. “Thanks for the alone time too, mate. I needed it.”
“I figured,” I reply, meeting his gaze with understanding. “You’ve been a miserable shit for days now. ”
“Well, I’m sure as fuck not miserable anymore,” he retorts, accepting my banter with the good humour it was intended.
“Thank fuck,” I retort. “You weren’t the easiest to live with when you were sick.”
“I’m not a good patient, sorry about that,” he replies, giving me a rueful smile.
“No sweat.”
“Is there anything that you need me to do? I can set the table for dinner if you’d like?” he offers.
“Knock yourself out.” I grin, dropping a kiss to Pen’s head. “Hmm, you smell good.”
“Thought I’d better wash up after getting hot and sweaty in the studio.”
“Hot and sweaty with me, you mean,” York quips as he sets the table for the five of us.
