Part 14 (1/2)

She was hot as h.e.l.l, and I know she didn't even realize it. The way she looked at me out of those hungry eyes, her shaking lips as she moaned in bliss, how she punched her hips at me to meet my every thrust.

It was a really good lay for Ca.s.sie's first time. I think about telling her that.

”Oh, you're up?”

I turn around and see her standing in the doorway. I wait for it, while her eyes roam down my half-naked body. She sees my erection, and she makes a face.

”Really? Still?”

”It's not what you think,” I say, mouth full of toothpaste.

”What, you have a s.e.x dream or something?”

”Don't you know anything about men?” I spit out a mouthful of toothpaste and grin at her.

She just scowls at me and then walks off, and begins to rummage around in the bedroom for something.

”Ah,” she says, and she walks past the bathroom door again, holding a mouse in her hand and trailing the USB cord. It rattles against the wooden tiles.

I finish up in the bathroom, and then grab my t-s.h.i.+rt and amble downstairs.

I see her sitting at the kitchen counter, but she doesn't even acknowledge me. She's pecking away on her keyboard. I drop my t-s.h.i.+rt on the counter.

”Breakfast?”

She scoffs. ”You think I'm going to cook you breakfast?”

I shrug, open the fridge, and pull out a carton of eggs, some milk, and b.u.t.ter.

”Hey, what do you think you're doing?”

”I was offering to cook you breakfast,” I tell her, taking a frying pan hanging from the wall and inspecting it. ”You need better pans. And don't refrigerate your b.u.t.ter.”

”A bad boy, a fighter, and a chef, huh?”

”You think I got a body like this by accident? You got any chives?”

”What for?”

”You never had scrambled eggs with chives?”

”No,” she tells me.

”Oh, boy, you've missed out.”

I set the pan down, turn the fire on low, and drop in a small chunk of b.u.t.ter. Then I walk around the kitchen counter toward her, wrap Ca.s.sie up from behind.

I smell her neck. G.o.d, she smells amazing in the morning. I could smell this every single day and be a happy man.

”Stop it,” she says, trying to squirm out from my grip, but I just hold her tighter, press my hardness into her back.

”Chance,” she breathes.

”Ca.s.s.”

”Really, I'm trying to check my email.”

”Alright,” I say. ”Not up for it in the morning, then?”

She doesn't answer.

”Ca.s.sie.”

”Yeah?”

”Chives!”

”Vegetable drawer. Where else would they be?”

”So you have some?”

”I don't know. Check!”

I squint at her. We seem to have lost some ability to communicate.

I root through the drawer, find a bunch of chives, and chop up a couple of stalks, and she notices that I'm good with a knife.

”You cook a lot?”

”Mm-hmm,” I say, nodding. I crack the eggs into a bowl, beat them quickly with a fork, mix in just a tiny bit of milk, and then pour the mixture into the pan.

The chives go on last, a quick couple of turns, and then I bring Ca.s.sie her plate and a fork.

Gingerly, as if she doubts me, she tests a bite, but her face lights up. ”Wow, it is pretty good with chives.”

”You can try some parsley, too,” I tell her. ”Though it won't taste as strong.”

”I never knew you were so domestic,” she says.

I blink. Now that was uncanny.

But Ca.s.sie stops looking at me, and the grin fades from her face. She's heard something, and then I hear it, too. The sound of a car stopping.

She runs to the window. ”s.h.i.+t, it's Dad!”