Kitchen Love

The cookies lay on the counter saturated by fire. He stood with one hand on the hip, disgusted by the sight. I leaned into the doorway watching him as he tried to scrape away the pain. Worried that he would give into tears of frustration, I decided to help. Slowly walking into the kitchen in nothing but a black silk robe, I stood behind him. Hugging him slightly, I moved to his right side then grabbed a mixing bowl from the cabinet. He looked towards me with a raised brow as I combined all the ingredients. Chocolate chips began to melt as I stirred gently.

Soon I attracted the fire starter and he began to lick the chocolate on my finger. Cookies still awaiting their destination, I knew there would be a late entry. Picking me up, he placed me on the warm stove while kissing softly. Fingers in my cookie jar, he created a wet tense moment that caused me to wrap my legs around his waist. Soft lips kissing into mine let me know the truth.

“Baby, I burn them on purpose because you always make them better than me.” He said while kissing down my neck.

“I know.”

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

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