Then Reid leaned in close to my ear and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. “I bet you’d look good in just the apron too.”
Fuuck.If he was trying to make me hard, he was succeeding. My dick punched against my zipper, and I groaned. “If you’re here to torture me, it’s working.”
“Just giving you something to look forward to,” he said, and the promise of what would happen later had me ready to say fuck the dinner. I always did prefer my dessert first.
“It’s not nice to tease,” I said, pushing my ass back against him. His hands slid down the front of my pants, rubbing against my growing erection, and I let out a curse.
“Reid,” I said. If he didn’t stop, I was about to have him for dinner instead. But then he let out a chuckle and his hands disappeared from where they’d been driving me crazy.
“I’ll behave. For now.”
“I don’t think you know how. And I wasn’t complaining.”
“I’d hope not.” He rested his head on my shoulder and watched as I measured out the chili, garlic, and onion powders, and mixed them together. “Smells good. Whatcha making?”
“How do you feel about taco Tuesday?”
“Mmm. I’d say I feel pretty damn good about it. And you make your own taco seasoning? Damn. I scored.”
I laughed and kissed his nose, still blown away that I could do such a simple thing as that.
“How can I help?” he asked, as he went over to the sink and washed his hands.
“You can provide the entertainment.”
Reid shut off the faucet and narrowed his eyes. “Is that your way of keeping me out of the kitchen and away from your pants?”
I feigned shock. “I would never want to keep you away from my pants.”
“Suure,” he said, laughing as he sat at the piano. There was a pause, and then he started an up-tempo song that perfectly matched the mood.
“I like that one. What is it?”
“‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.’”
“Oh. I knew that.”
Reid laughed again. “I love that you’re so easily impressed.”
“Hard not to be when it’s you.”
“What about this one?” He played a little ditty that I recognized straight away.
“‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’? Now you’re making fun.”
He switched up the song again as I took the pan off the stove and poured the meat into a colander to drain out the fat. Then I rinsed off the pan, put the meat back in, and sprinkled in my homemade seasoning.
It all felt so normal, making dinner while Reid played in the background. Easy. Homey. As it should be.
The music stopped suddenly, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Reid shaking his head before moving his neck from side to side.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just stretching out a bit.”
“Is that a hint that I should strip you down later for a massage?”
Reid licked his lips and nodded. “Oh hell yes.”