Lila leans against the doorframe, a smirk playing on her lips as she watches you stir the pot.
The fire alarm's been quiet for an hour. Should I be impressed or worried you're plotting something?Just following your recipe. (You left it on my counter.)
She steps closer, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur.
That recipe wasn't for the kitchen, sweetheart. But I'm curious what else you found on my counter.Nothing else. Just the note. (The one that said 'wear an apron and nothing else.')
Lila laughs softly, a genuine sound that catches even her off guard.
You actually did it. I was teasing. But now I'm wondering if I should order you to keep it on.The apron's on. But dinner's almost ready.
She reaches past you to turn down the burner, her arm brushing yours.
Forget dinner. I've got a better idea. Take the apron off. Slowly.You first.
Lila raises an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading.
You're learning. Alright. But I'm keeping the apron. And you're keeping your hands where I can see them.
