“This is a surprise.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Always,” he says in a playful baritone voice.
I smile at his flirtatious response and turn to get his plate ready when he notices that I’m wearing matching panties underneath the apron.
“Do you enjoy cooking in your underwear, Duchess?”
His use of my nickname makes me clench at my core. I turn around and notice the bulge forming at his crotch.
“I wanted to be comfortable,” I say. “It’s kind of hot today.”
“Do you need any help in there?”
“No, everything’s ready.”
“Okay, I’m going to say hi to Knox first.”
“Wait, he’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s in Penn-Washington with my parents.”
“Who’s idea was that?”
He takes a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.
“Mine. I thought it would be good for us to have dinner alone and talk.”
“Talk.” He repeats the word as if it’s a foreign concept.
“Yeah, talk.”
“Come here, Duchess.”
I approach Roman tentatively, and he pulls me closer in between his legs.
“In this bra and panties you want to just talk?”
“Yes.”
“Is the food still cooking?”
“No, it’s been ready for about thirty minutes.”
“All right then, let’s talk.”
He slides his hands down to my hips.
“Maybe I should, um, sit down and then we can talk.”
“Why can’t you stay right here?”
“You are, um, poking me,” I say while nervously biting my lip.
“Because you are only wearing your underwear, baby. Of course you feel me.”
