“Hey,” she says cheerily.
I still don't understand how she's so nice and actually seems happy to be here. After all the stuff she's probably heard about me, you'd think hanging around me would be the last thing she'd want to do.
I step back to let her in and end up watching her ass move through her dress as she walks past, causing my dick to twitch.
Then I feel like a fucking dirty asshole because I've been jerking off to her way too much lately. I try to think of other things while I'm stroking my dick, but her face always ends up in the forefront. Of course, it doesn't help that thinking of her is what makes me hard in the first place.
“So, I know I usually bring already cooked food for us, but this time, I figured I'd cook it here and maybe teach you at the same time?”
Shit. I thought I'd avoided the whole learning to cook thing, but I guess it's something I really should learn more about. I can't rely on her always bringing me delicious food, plus it'd probably be nice if I made her an actual meal sometime, instead of just some fish from over the fire.
I grunt and say, “Fine, whatever.”
She actually giggles at me as she walks into my kitchen with a bag that I'm guessing contains ingredients for dinner.
“So agreeable today. Lucky me.” Remi starts taking some things out of the bag but then stops and makes a beeline for my table. “Oh, these are beautiful! I love wildflowers.” She places a hand on her chest and looks over at me, but I quickly turn around and busy myself so she can't ask me if I picked them just for her. I guess I lucked out with them.
“What do you need?” I ask as she steps back into the kitchen.
“Um. A cutting board. A pot for boiling some pasta. And a pan for cooking the meat and sauce in.”
She chews on her bottom lip while thinking of anything else she might need, and I resist the urge to stare at it and instead get started on finding the items she said. I don't even know if I'll have everything. I had just bought a bunch of random kitchen items to get me by when I first got this place.
“Oh, and a knife and a wooden spoon,” she adds. “I figured spaghetti would be something easy and simple for you to learn. Plus, you seemed to enjoy it.”
“I've liked all the meals you've made,” I mumble as I take out a pot and pan. After all the prison food I've eaten, her food is like a gourmet meal every time.
When I turn around, Remi has a big grin splitting her cheeks. “That's true, you have.” She takes the pot and pan from me. “Cutting board?”
I reach behind the coffee pot and grab the small one I have there. “This big enough?”
“It'll do,” she answers, giving me that smile again. “I only added onions and peppers last time, but you can decide what you do and don't put in it. We can add other stuff like canned corn or hotdog chunks. I brought some just in case.”
All of that stuff sounds pretty good to me, but I'm not likely to have any of that very often, so sticking to the basics will probably be better this time. She pulls the rest of the ingredients out of the bag on the counter, and I stuff my hands in my pockets, waiting.
“The onion and pepper will be fine this time.”
“Alright, I'll get started on cutting the pepper. Can you fill-up the pot with water to boil?”
My kitchen really isn't that big, so I have to brush by her to get the water. The subtle smell of her shampoo permeates the air, and I find myself greedily taking in deep breaths to pull as much of it into my lungs as possible. It's certainly nothing like the piss mixed with disinfectant that I had to put up with for years.
My arm grazes against Remi's as I place the pot on the stove and I notice goosebumps form on her skin.
“Are you cold?” I ask. I didn't think it was particularly cold in here, but she only has a small dress on.
Remi clears her throat. “Uh. No. I'm okay. Thanks.”
She moves away from me ever so slightly, reminding me not only of how close I'm actually standing to her but also that she likely still sees me as the detestable human being that is capable of harming her, just like everyone else does. It's a fucking punch to the gut.
Her movement away from me has the onion rolling to the ground, so I step past her to get it while she resumes cutting the pepper.
I bend over at the waist to pick it up, and the next thing I know, there's a clattering sound, and Remi hisses out, “Shit.” I turn around to see her gripping her finger. “I cut myself.”
Frowning, I step closer to take a look. “Let me see.”
She releases her finger, and I watch as blood trickles down her hand.
“I just looked away for a second,” she says, shaking her head, a slight pink tinting her cheeks.