“Please,” she pleaded, winking at me.
I told her what happened as she folded the lobster meat into the pot and then the chives and lemon zest. When she finished, she stopped with the spoon in midair, crinkled her nose, and replied, “Eww. That’s nasty. Who does that?”
“Apparently they do.”
I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. She added some red pepper flakes as I kissed her on the shell of the ear.
“I don’t judge people, but really?”
“Exactly what we said.”
“Someone needs to talk to that boy because there’s nothing right about that.”
“He’s a grown-ass man, Baby. Nobody needs to say shit to him if that’s how he wanna move. As long as he stays off my phone and out of my face, I’m all good. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. What are we eating?”
“We’re having lobster risotto, garlic sauteed mushrooms, and crusty bread. I paired it with Sauvignon Blanc, and I made you a specialty cake.”
“Damn, Baby, I’m ready to eat. What type of cake is it?”
“Chocolate rum cake with cherries on top,” she answered before she grabbed plates from the cabinet. “Why don’t you put on some jazz music while I plate our meals.”
“Look at you turning from Madam Bake-a-Lot to Chef-Baby-Dee.”
She giggled. “You have to stop with the corny jokes. I’m no Chef-Boyardee, but I can do a little something in the kitchen.”
“We’ll see,” I stated, going into the living room to select our music.
After she plated our meal, we sat in the dining room and ate and discussed our day thus far. The food was delicious, and I made sure to tell her so when we finished eating.
“When we marry, I will hire a chef for you if you’d like, but I love your cooking and prefer it.”
She set her glass down and stared at me.
“What’s wrong, Baby?”
“You said when we marry.”
“That’s the point of this. I’m not dating you without intention. I was clear on that.”
She smiled shyly before she returned to the previous subject. “I enjoy doing something every once in a while,” she admitted as we took our dishes to the kitchen and rinsed them before placing them in the dishwasher.
Once the dishwasher was started and the kitchen was cleaned, we headed into the living room, and we danced slowly to the music. I was too stuffed to eat any cake, and I had told her that we could eat that with some wine and bourbon later. She agreed because she was stuffed too.
Red Groove was on the system, and I placed my hand on her waist as we danced slowly to the music. With my other hand, I tilted her head back slowly until her jaw dropped just a little.
I sucked on her lips and brushed and pecked them with simple kisses to entice her to open her mouth. When she did, I slid my tongue inside.
I made love to her mouth the way that I wanted to make love to her. My hand ran over her pebbled nipples underneath her kimono.
“Are you going to tell me it’s the air, or do you want me that badly?” I asked as I plucked a nipple.
“I want you very badly, Harlem. It’s all I’ve thought about all day.” Her voice was a whispered moan.
“All day?” I asked as we gently swayed to the music and kissed between conversation.
“That and the fact that we’ve exchanged stats, and there’s nothing standing in our way but each other. I want you, Harlem,” she confessed.
I reached between us and loosened the belt of her kimono. Her breath hitched in her chest, and I stared into her eyes.
