Honey

I woke up to a pair of lips pressed to my own. I kissed back, opening my mouth to an exploring tongue. I grumbled softly when they moved away. My eyes reluctantly opened and I smiled at a blushing Tim. “Sorry. You weren’t waking up. The pasta should be done.”
I sat up so he could get up, battling with rising emotions that were trying to confuse me. I shrugged away the thoughts and followed him to the kitchen and watched him as he dished up our dinner. I thanked him as he handed me my plate and he led me to the dining table. “Would you like some wine?” I looked up a little shocked and regretfully admitted I was underage. “Seventeen hey? Surely you’ve had alcohol before?” I laughed and nodded, setting my plate on the table and taking my seat. “Objections to a glass of red with me?”
“That sounds great, thanks.” He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of Shiraz.
We sat in comfortable silence, immersed in our meal and wine. When I finished my spaghetti he jumped up and took our plates out to the kitchen. “I hope you’re not going to wash up on your own.”
“I was planning to.”
“Unacceptable, I have to help. We seem to work better together, I mean dinner was delicious, is that not proof enough?” He laughed and agreed with me. “I’ll wash if you dry and put away.”
He ran the water for me until I pushed him out of the way and took over. We worked quickly, me scrubbing, him drying. When I got to the pots he started laughing at me and nudging me to work faster. I laughed at him and told him to bugger off. When I finished a pot and handed it to him he threw his hands up and proclaimed “Finally!”
I turned around and threw a handful of bubbles at him coating his jumper in the white suds. He put the pot down and went “Right! That’s it! You’re in for it now!” I squealed trying to run from the tea towel he was whipping me with. I tried to get him back with more suds but it just made us laugh more. I grabbed the tea towel and tried to wrench it from his grip but he wouldn’t let go. He pulled back, trying to win our tug-of-war. He pulled me close to him and wrapped his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides. “Gotcha now!” I laughed, struggling to free myself.
I looked up and kissed him forcefully. His arms loosened as he kissed me back. My arms moved up around his neck. Our kiss went from an aggressive attack to slow, then more lustful, more insistent. He picked me up and set me on the bench, never releasing my lips from his own.
I reluctantly pulled away and laughed softly “It’s getting very hot in here.” I rested my forehead against his. His fingers were tracing small circles against my sides gently. He kissed me softly, his hands moving to my back, pressing me snuggly against him.
I leant back again to catch my breath. Tim’s’ lips sought out my neck, tenderly sucking the flesh into his mouth as if I were a treat he had been eagerly waiting to taste. I pushed him back gently. “We need to finish the dishes before the sauce sets on the pots.” He captured my lips with his own once more and softly agreed. I was slightly disappointed by his agreement but moved back to the sink to scrub the last pots.
“It’s still hot in here.” I laughed softly and undid my shirt, revealing more cleavage than is socially acceptable in anyone other than dancers and prostitutes. He laughed at me and took off his jumper.
“You’re right, it is hot in here.” He dried and put away the last of the pots. “Well, you know the saying; if you can’t take the heat get out of the kitchen!” With that he whisked me up again and took me out to the lounge room.