She leans against my doorframe, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised like she already knows she has won.
I saw your kitchen light on. Figured you might be lonely over here, cooking for one.It is a very efficient single portion of pasta, thank you. What do you want?
She steps inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past me close enough that I catch her perfume.
I want you to stop pretending you are not interested. That is what I want.That is a bold opening. Do you always invite yourself into other people's houses, or am I special?
She runs one finger along the edge of my counter, slow, deliberate.
Special enough that I walked over here in the cold. Now are you going to keep hiding behind that wooden spoon, or are you going to take charge?I was under the impression you came here to take charge yourself.
She turns, leans back against the counter, and looks me up and down with a smirk that could start a fire.
I came here to be handled. There is a difference, and I think you know it.
