“Need some help?” I ask, keeping my distance.
“No,” she says stubbornly. She walks to the fridge, searching for something. When she finally finds what she has been looking for, she smiles and pulls it out. “Cheese makes everything better.”
I shake my head at her as she pulls out some shredded cheese and pops it into her mouth. She’s avoiding my touch, which just makes me want to touch her more.
I have a dairy intolerance, but I’ll deal with some stomach cramps in order to get what I want.
I walk over to her and reach into the bag she’s holding. I eat some of the cheese as she watches me with large eyes.
She tries to walk around me, but I make sure our hands brush against each other.
She goes back to the cutting board and starts angrily cutting the potatoes again.
“Ouch!” she yells.
I’m behind her in two seconds. My arms are around her body as I take her cut finger into my hands. She’s bleeding pretty badly. I pull her hand over to the sink where I turn on the faucet, running cold water, and I begin washing the wound, trying to get the bleeding to stop.
It takes a few minutes, but it finally stops. I turn the water off, and then I lean down and gently kiss her finger.
“All better. I should get a Band-Aid for that,” I say, trying to ignore her beating heart and how she looks at me like I just saved her life instead of just healing her finger that would have healed without my assistance.
I sweep past her, but she grabs on to my shirt, stopping me.
She narrows her gorgeous eyes at me as she peers into mine. I don’t know what she’s doing. I don’t know what she’s thinking. Her hand moves slowly up my body until it reaches my neck, and then she pulls my neck down until she cautiously kisses me on the lips.
My hands grab her face as I deepen the kiss. Her kisses say so much that I know she would never tell me with her words. They say, You were right. They say, I’m sorry. They say, Thank you.
She pulls away, realizing what she just did, as she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. She doesn’t say anything. She just stands there, looking at me.
“I’ll go get a Band-Aid,” I say, keeping my promise not to talk about having sex with her again.
I walk quickly to the bathroom, and after searching for a couple of minutes, I come back with a Band-Aid in hand.
“Found one,” I say as I return to her in the kitchen.
She hasn’t moved an inch since I left. She’s clearly lost in her own thoughts when I walk back over to her.
I open the Band-Aid and then take her hand in mine. I place the Band-Aid on her finger.
I lean my head down to kiss her finger again because I can’t pass up that opportunity when she grabs my face and kisses me hard again with a force I wasn’t expecting.
I stutter backward as I wrap her in my arms and kiss her back.
“I hate you,” she says, breaking from the kiss.
“I know.” I pull her bottom lip into my mouth, needing this more than she knows.
“And you hate me.”
I nod.
“Good. Just so we understand that this changes nothing.”
I grin. She’s very, very wrong about that. This changes everything. If the first time was a mistake and the second time was a bigger mistake, then the third time is a choice. It means that, despite how mad she is at me, she wants this more.
She grabs my shirt, ripping it open, just like I did to her earlier. Her eyes devour my hard body.
“Damn it,” she says.