That mischievous smile and I have to remember that we need to talk. That talking is a good thing…not as good as her tongue though. She comes so close to kissing me, her breath on my lips, and I have to take a step back. She follows taking the coffee and putting it on the counter, her fingers teasing my stomach, pulling on my shirt, pulling me in. her lips crushing mine, and I see us…the way we should be. Her lips leaving mine and I crave for her taste, for that sweet drug that comes from her.

I watch as she opens the bag, smelling the contents before she takes them out. Her hair messy, sticking up all over the place. That look of disgust when she smells a whole grain bagel, how she drops it back into the bag and searches for another. I love the way she licks the cream cheese off her finger, the glance, that smile and those sexy lips.

“I have to admit I am a fucking good chef.” I actually think she believes that.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The strawberry flavoured cream gathered at her lips and I want to taste it. It mixes with the taste of her lips, with the sweat that covers her body and mine. How it glistens in the sunlight cascading over her from the window, the sheet wrapped around her hiding what I had seen moments before. I know that we have to talk, that she wants…that she deserves answers I just don’t know if I can give them to her. I don’t know how to tell her that I have been in hell for years…that what I did was for the best. I don’t know how to tell her just what it is I feel…those three words aren’t enough.

She makes it easier when she smiles like that, when she puts her hand on my face. What would I say when she ask about mom? About Abby? What if she asks about what happened? I know that we’re going to have to leave the bedroom that we’re going to have to face the world again.

“You want to watch a movie?” she just nods as she starts on her second bagel, after she finished the fruit salad.