to my face, down to my dick, then up to the ceiling. “I brought spaghetti carbonara to help soak up that sugar and liquor,” she said in a choked voice.
I leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “Sex could also work,” I suggested. “You know, it’s high-intensity exercise.”
“You’re extremely drunk,” she told me. “The bourbon is leaking out of your pores.” She slipped under my arm.
“It’s the holiday season. A time of excess.”
“You’re thinking of Mardi Gras.”
I prowled behind her as she went into the kitchen. Cindy Lou was waiting on the counter.
“I brought something for you too,” she told the cat.
Morticia walked around my kitchen as if she owned it, grabbing a plate out of the cabinet then placing some bits of raw pancetta on it for Cindy Lou.
“You’re extremely sexy,” I said, taking another sip of my drink.
Going over to the long table set for a Christmas feast, Morticia picked up one of the Christmas china bowls. I supposed she had bought it, because I hadn’t.
“And you are completely inebriated.” She opened the container of pasta, scooping a generous amount into the bowl.
The smell hit me like a blizzard, and I started salivating. I had eaten two huge forkfuls before I remembered my manners. “You want some?” I asked Morticia.
She took the fork from me and took a bite. The slight sound of pleasure she made was a hammer to the back of the head.
“At least the smell will chase away all the perfume,” I said. A breeze from the open window wafted around another hit of the perfume that seemed to permeate my condo. I sneezed.
Morticia opened her large black bag and emptied it onto the counter. Out tumbled bundles of dried leaves, a spray bottle, a ceramic bowl, little vials of crystals, and a giant feather.
“I’m going to do a ritual cleansing,” she said, arranging all her instruments on the counter. She sprinkled some of the little crystals into the bowl and lit them on fire. Then she set the bundle of dried leaves on fire.
Cindy Lou meowed as the leaves started smoking.
As I ate, I followed Morticia as she went around the living room and kitchen, slowly passing the burning sage all over the space and tracing some sort of shape in the air. Then she put the sage in the bowl with the little crystals, which were letting off a scent that mixed citrus and rosemary. She picked up the metal bowl and banged it, the sound ringing through the living room. Then she fanned everything with the feather.
“That should do it,” Morticia said and took out a large candle. “Just leave your window open to keep the rest of the evil spirits out.”
“Or you could stay and guard me.”
“Or I could go work.” She lit the candle. “Just let that burn for the next hour.”
I kissed her one more time before she left. I felt as if I was going to be burning from both ends until I saw her again.
How can I convince her to sleep with me?
Did she actually want to though?
31
Morticia
We had the next two days off from the bake-off. Jonathan spent them furiously texting me. His messages included pictures of him playing golf with his new cat and a video of him enthusing about how nice his condo smelled now.
“He’s really got the hots for you,” Emma commented. “Did you put a love potion in his food? Kidding, kidding! Too soon?”
“It was Justin’s loss,” Lilith assured me.
I spent the days alternating between working on the marketing content for Hillrock West Distillery and working on my scholarship art project. I did have to admit that Jonathan and his sexy kisses and promises of something more were very inspirational. The piece was coming together.
Lilith peered at it over my shoulder. “You know what you need?” she suggested. “You need some super-sexy pictures of Jonathan. Like this one where he’s eating the gingerbread—you need an X-rated version of that. The piece should be an exploration of female sexuality bursting from the confines of the kitchen and reclaiming her place in the world!”
“You just want naughty pictures of Jonathan,” I told her flatly.
“I mean, that too.”
Another day, another bake-off challenge. Unfortunately, Keeley still had not been sent home. Instead, it was one of my bunkmates. I actually liked her. She cleaned up after herself and had showed me how to make a mean cheese-and-herb soufflé. Unfortunately, the judges had said that her stuffed French toast wasn’t cooked all the way through, and that had