I stared. With his locks shorn, his eyes looked bigger—stark and arresting. They settled on the bowl for a few beats, then the corners crinkled as his gaze met mine.
“This was the bowl in your story,” I said. “The bowl you brought to her every day.”
How many times had it gone back and forth between them, filled with whatever he’d made from her recipe book?
“It was like an ongoing conversation.” Alex hugged me from behind, his arms sliding down mine. Our fingers entwined, soapy and wet, around the bowl.
“That’s…”
It was all I could manage. Alex was making love to my fingers, his hands over mine, clasping them and then letting go, sliding his fingers in and out of the spaces between them. He nudged my hair aside, exposing my neck to stubbled kisses. The sun filtered through the window, warming my skin, lighting up the smattering of hairs on Alex’s arm. A slow, golden moment passed. Asiga-sigamoment. Soapsuds, warm water, goose bumps. The hard muscles of his legs spooning me as my head fell back and I relaxed into the thick heat of his body.
We both jumped apart as Vasilis walked into the kitchen. Alex grabbed a washcloth and started wiping his hands. I was pretty sure it was a ruse to hide his erection.
“Where do you want these?” The Squasher of Siga-Siga Moments dropped a basket full of freshly plucked herbs and veggies on the counter. Plump, bright lemons, sweet onions, green-topped carrots. Dark bits of earth still clung to the leaves of a cabbage.
Alex threw the washcloth aside and snapped at him in Greek. Vasilis’ response was just as terse. Back and forth, they argued, sharp gestures punctuating their speech. Finally, Alex nudged his father through the door and shut it behind him. I watched Vasilis through the window, waving wildly at the grapevines, as if seeking their intervention.
“How could you lock your father out of his own home? If I pulled something like that with Dolly, she’d… I don’t even know how she’d react.”
“It’s not his home. His lives over there. See?”
Vasilis had taken the cobbled pathway through the garden and was letting himself into the house next door. He caught us looking at him and pointed to his watch. “What time?” he shouted across the vines.
“I’ll come get you,” Alex shouted back.
“Fine.” He dragged a wooden chair out onto the porch and plopped himself on it. “I’ll wait right here.”
A staring contest ensued, each willing the other to back down. Finally, Vasilis harrumphed and angled his chair away.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Lunch.”
“Lunch? It sounded like you were having a major argument.”
“Well, lunchismajor. Especially this one. Every time I visit, Mpampa gives me a haircut and afterward, I make him lunch. He putters around while I cook, and we catch up. He looks forward to it, whether I’m gone a few weeks or a few months.”
“And this time you shut him out.” Their whole exchange fell into place. “Because of me.”
“No. Because ofme.” Alex growled and gathered me in his arms. “Because I want you so bad, it hurts.” He set me on the counter, my legs dangling over the edge as he wedged himself between them. “I can’t cook. I can’t think. I’m mad with pent-up desire for you.” He cupped my head with one hand, pinning me with his hungry gaze, while the other pushed my panties aside. “I think this is where we left off.”
His finger curved into my ready wetness. “This time, I don’t intend to stop until you come around my fingers. Or my mouth. Or my cock. Take your pick.” His breath was ragged as he eased me onto my back.
Pulling my panties down, he slid me to the edge of the counter, his lips circling my clit. The bold swipe of his tongue sent me spinning to new heights of pleasure. I arched into him, my fingers tugging his freshly cut hair. Pleasure came in cascading waves. First a budding ripple, then as he built me up with short little licks, it bloomed. And bloomed. My thighs quivered. Sensation after sensation rocketed through me. Teeth clenched, toes curled, my body gave a surprised jerk and exploded.
“Mmm. Lunch never tasted so good.” Alex left a trail of soft kisses on my thigh.
I had no coherent reply. I was too busy collecting all the astounded parts of me that had just shattered into a million blissful pieces.
“Hello? Earth calling Moti.” He grinned with the satisfaction of a man who knows he’s turned your bones to jelly, face glistening with victory.
I was sprawled on his counter, panties bunched around my ankles, with no rush to cover up.
What the hell’s gotten into you, Moti?
Nothing yet,the newly liberated part of me replied. But hopefully Alex will.
I propped myself up, admiring the contours of his arms, his shoulders, his chest. His grin disappeared when I reached for his boxers. My fingers stole under his waistband and closed around his hard flesh. He watched, still as a statue, as I stroked him, the blunt head of his erection straining over his boxers.
