it makes the minutes when she’s laughing and completely in the moment all that much sweeter. Too sweet actually.
So much for avoiding Norah today. I was all set to listen to my mind over my cock, but then she had to go and surprise me by making the first move and it was impossible for me to say no to her.
Big problem.
But this is casual. Our terms are clear. This is going to be fine. Maybe the more I have her, the less I’ll want her. That’s how it usually goes for me with women, and Norah will be no different.
“You need to hand wash Teflon pans,” she says as she begins filling the sink with soapy water while I toss the garbage and load the other dishes in the dishwasher.
“I’m not really a fan of high-maintenance dishes. If it doesn’t live through the dishwasher, we just weren’t meant to be.”
“Typical guy.” She shakes her head as she plunges her hands into the soapy water and starts scrubbing.
I finish wiping off the countertops and stand beside her, towering a solid foot over her when we’re both barefoot. “I can’t believe you brought a dessert tonight. I had really fancy Jell-O and Reddi-wip all ready to go in the fridge.”
Norah hunches over the sink and shakes with laughter. “Jell-O is not a dessert.”
“It is with Cool Whip on top,” I state, turning around to press my ass to the counter and crossing my arms to pin her with a glare. “Is what you brought really that much better?”
I reach over and grab the round container and pry the top off. My lips part when I see she’s brought a gorgeous round cake that is so perfect, it belongs in a cookbook. It has alternating layers of white cake, strawberries, and pink cream. The top is a thick mound of white whipped topping that I’m certain didn’t come from a can. And dead center is a spray of artfully sliced strawberries arranged into the shape of a flower.
“Okay, you win.” I groan appreciatively and swipe my finger along the edge to taste the cream. “You seriously win.”
“I should hope so.” Norah laughs and then sets the final pan in the sink to dry. She dries off her hands and turns to face me with a teasing look on her face. “I mean…it’s no tater tot casserole, but I was short on time.”
I hit her with a silent look of warning. “Norah Donahue, are you mocking my casserole?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she exclaims, and a rosiness crawls up her cheeks as she fails to hide her smirk. “It’s obvious you slaved away at those tater tots. Did you peel the potatoes yourself?”
She’s patronizing and smug, and I fucking love it. “I didn’t realize you were such a food snob.” I dip my finger into the cake and help myself to another sample.
She presses her lips together. “I make you filet mignon, and all you can muster up is a casserole. I bet you didn’t even make it. I bet you had your mother make it, and you just staged this mess to make it look like you actually put some effort into tonight.”
Her sass hits me right in the nuts, and without pause, I dig my finger into the fluffy white topping of her cake and swipe it across her nose.
Her blue eyes fly wide. “Did you seriously just—”
I do it again, this time hitting her lips and cheek. The smear looks like the outline of a seahorse.
“Dean,” she squeals and wipes the dollop of topping off her cheek. “I spent time on this!” She puts her finger in her mouth, and my eyes zero in on her lips as she sucks it off.
There’s that zipper again.
“You were being a snob,” I state firmly and take another lick. Damn, this is good.
“Takes one to know one,” she snaps and takes the cake from my hands, holding it behind her with one hand as she presses her other to my chest to hold me back. “Stop picking at my dessert. You don’t deserve it.”
“Aw, don’t be like that.” My hands clench around her waist, and she bites her lip excitedly, clearly not opposed to the close contact as I pull her flush against my body. I dip my head down and lick the topping off her nose. “It tastes too good not to be sampled.”
She squeaks and struggles to hold on to the cake behind her as I press my whipped-cream-covered lips to