58

I force myself to back away and it’s fucking much harder than it should be.
“I made the pancakes while you were in the shower,” I try to focus on what I’m doing. “Just need to fry the bacon.” She jumps down.
“I’ll cut the bananas then.” She puts a finger to her lip as she focuses on the wooden knife block, dwelling on which one to choose. After a moment, she picks a sharp hollow-edge chef’s knife with a slipfree Pakkawood handle.
She peels a banana when her phone rings. The caller ID says Ren. She looks at it but doesn’t answer.
“I hate that guy by the way.”
“I’ve noticed. And you’re not the only one. My brothers don’t like him either.” She lays the fruit flat on the cutting board and slowly chops it up.
“It was just nice having someone ask me out.” I lay the bacon on the griddle.
“He’s a douche. Luckily you didn’t love him.” She shrugs but keeps on cutting.
“So now you’re some kind of love expert?” She freezes her hands and looks up at me. “The man-whore who never do relationships.” She starts cutting again.
“Okay, I’ll bite … what do you think is true love, mister know it all?”
“Well, I think if you’re madly in love with someone, your eyes will always find that person, even in a crowd.” I flip the bacon.
“You will drown in passion and you’ll be so overwhelmed that it will consume you. Even if that person drives you insane and makes mistakes, you will always forgive them.” She ceases cutting to stare at me with popping eyes.
“You’ll put them before yourself in an instant. You can’t think about living without them, even willing to die without hesitation … that there is real love.” I take a breath before continuing, “And to get back to the douche – whenever you are in a crowd, your eyes are on me not him, and no offense, but your relationship with Ren had all the passion of an asexual female panda. NONE!”
“My eyes on you …” she says as if in a muddle.
“Yeah, I would know ’cause my eyes are always on you.” I smile at her. She blinks a few times and peels another banana. I might be a little sick, but it is utterly seductive. And I wonder what it will feel like if she groped those hands around my cock.
For a minute only the sound of the sizzling bacon fills the air, she peels and I lust.
“I know what asexual is thanks to biology class,” she sniggers and starts cutting again. “But why a female panda?”
“They’re the mammal less often in the mood for sex.” She chuckles some more.
“Any you know this why?”
“Animal Planet.” I take off the bacon. “I can’t understand how someone can’t be in the mood for sex … it’s extremely pleasurable.”
“Yeah, I would not know,” she says, slicing twice before she stiffens and swears softly. A deep blush forms on her cheeks. She bites her lips and starts cleaving again. Distracted.
“Ouch!” She drops the knife and slips her finger into her mouth. I reach up, take her hand in mine, and look at the cut. It’s not too deep.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Nothing a band-aid won’t fix.” Keeping pressure on her finger I pull her with me to the drawer in which I keep my band-aids. I pull it open.
Fuck. I forgot – it’s also the drawer where I keep my condoms.
She stares at the, rather a lot, of square foils with shocked fascination, but doesn’t say a word. Neither do I. I grab a plaster and wrap it around her wound. Then I close the drawer.
I silently dish up the pancakes and cover them with syrup, bacon, and bananas.
“Let’s eat in the living room.” I place the food on the thick wool carpet and she takes some pillows from the sofa, throws them on the ground, and flops down on her tummy.
“Extremely hot and he can cook.” She stuffs a piece of pancake in her mouth and chews. “Mm, maybe I should just marry you right now.” She says after she swallows and swings her fork around. “We can always work on the attitude problem.”
“Be careful what you wish for, little angel.” My eyes move over her face and land on her lips. Little drops of syrup stick to it and the need to lick it off overwhelms me. It drives me bat-ass crazy. I take a sip of my water trying to cool down a little.
“Eh,” she hesitates slightly, “Why do you keep your condoms in the kitchen?” Still rocking that fork. “I’m just asking cause I would think it would be more practical to keep them in the bedroom.” She blushes lightly. “I mean people have sex in their beds.” She’s rabbiting. Another of those little things about her I love – when she gets anxious she rabbits.
“Well, since I’ve never needed a condom in my room … yet, it’s easier to grab one from the kitchen before I go out.” She sways the fork, now dripping syrup as it goes. I grab it and stick it into my mouth and suck off the syrup. She freezes and stares with a dropped jaw, lust filling her eyes.
“Rule 6,” she purrs softly, “I remember. You never hit in your bed. Got it.” She continues eating. “Do you always grab one when you go out?”
“No. And just so you know, those condoms are almost two years old.” Her eyes pop and she chokes on her food. She puts down her fork and eyes me for a long time as if figuring things out.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” she asks softly out of the blue, now looking at her plate. Definitely a diversion.
I can’t figure out what’s going on in that head of yours right now.
“I draw like shit. And I can’t sit still.” Head still down, she peeps at me from that angle.
“That’s it … you can’t draw and you can’t sit still?”
“Maybe I can’t draw because I can’t sit still, I’m hyperactive and wild. That’s why I needed the rules – to keep me out of trouble.”
“So tell me about the rules.” She sticks a piece of pancake, shoves the fork into her mouth, and points it at me. “How many are there?” Her eyes look like shattered pieces of the sky and ocean sewed together again.
“Ten.” Fork directed at me again.
“So how many did we brake?” She actually wants to go there. I’ve finished eating so I turn onto my back and look at the ceiling.
“Let’s see, Rule 1 has been broken from the start. I guess I broke 2 and definitely 6, so far.”
“You’re not going to tell me what they are, are you?”
“Nope!” I pull out the p.