Andrea leaned casually against the kitchen counter, her arms lightly crossed but her gaze intent on Joe as he moved around the stove with practiced ease. The smell of something savory filled the air, mingling with the faint hum of the refrigerator.
"So, you live alone?" she asked, her voice light but curious.
Joe glanced over his shoulder, a spatula in hand, and offered her a quick grin. "Yep," he replied, flipping something in the pan with a confident flick of his wrist.
She stepped closer, her bare feet soft against the cool tile. "Who taught you how to cook?" she pressed, leaning slightly against the counter beside him.
Joe paused, the question tugging at a deeper place in his mind. "My grandma," he said finally, his voice softer now. He set the spatula down and turned toward her, resting his hands on the counter behind him. "I lived with her after my parents passed when I was ten. She made sure I was always in the kitchen with her. Said it was her way of keeping me close and teaching me something useful." A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Guess it stuck."
Andrea's expression softened, her lips curving into a gentle smile as she tilted her head. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents," she said, her voice warm, almost tender. "But it sounds like your grandma did an amazing job. You turned out pretty incredible."
Joe's breath caught, the sincerity in her voice striking a chord in him. He chuckled softly, his eyes drifting to hers before lowering—just briefly—to the delicate curve of her chest as she leaned forward, her blouse dipping slightly. "Really?" he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost testing the waters.
"Hmm," she replied with a knowing smile, holding his gaze for a moment before stepping back.
Joe turned back to the stove, exhaling as he tried to refocus. He plated the meal carefully, glancing at her as she moved to the table, her movements fluid and unhurried. The tension in the air had shifted, quieter now but no less potent.
Placing the plates on the table, Joe stood back with a small flourish. "Breakfast is served," he announced, a playful grin returning to his face.
Andrea took a bite, her eyes widening as the flavors hit her tongue. She chewed slowly, savoring it before letting out a soft, pleased hum. "Oh my God," she said, her hand lightly touching her chest as if the taste had physically floored her. "This is amazing. Like, ridiculously good."
Joe smirked, leaning casually against the counter as he watched her reaction. "Better than your mom's cooking?"
Andrea paused mid-bite, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile. "Maybe. But don't tell her I said that," she replied, pointing her fork at him in mock warning.
Joe raised his hands in surrender, miming a zipping motion across his lips. "Your secret's safe with me," he said, chuckling.
"You know," he added, grabbing a bottle of ketchup from the counter, "this tastes even better with a little of this."
He tossed it toward her, but his aim was off. The bottle slipped from her hands, the cap popping open and a streak of ketchup landing squarely on her chest, just above the neckline of her blouse.
Andrea froze, her eyes widening as she looked down at the mess. "Oh, shit," she muttered, her voice sharp with surprise.
Joe's face went pale, his hands immediately going up. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," he stammered, already turning to grab a napkin.
But before he could move, Andrea's laughter broke the tension. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she stepped toward him, catching his wrist. "Relax," she said, her voice low, playful.
Joe blinked, unsure of what to do next. "I—uh—"
"You made the mess," she continued, her smile deepening as she tilted her head, the soft light catching the curve of her cheek. "So… you clean it up."
He froze, his pulse quickening as the meaning of her words sank in. "Wait, you mean—"
Her gaze locked on his, daring. "Yes," she interrupted smoothly. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Lick it."
Joe's gaze lingered on the streak of ketchup trailing down Andrea's chest, his lips twitching into a sly smile. His voice dropped, rich and teasing. "You're a bit messy there."
Andrea's brow arched, her lips curving slightly. "I was saving it for later," she shot back, though her breath quickened when his fingers brushed the hem of her shirt.
"Don't worry," he murmured, leaning closer. "I'll take care of it."
Her chest rose sharply as he tugged the neckline of her shirt down, exposing her soft, full breasts. The cool air brushed her skin, sending a shiver through her that only deepened as his lips followed the path of ketchup.
The first warm press of his tongue against her chest made her gasp, her fingers instinctively reaching for his shirt. The touch was slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing the line of ketchup as if savoring her. When his lips finally closed around her nipple, her body arched toward him, a sharp moan escaping her lips.
"Joe…" she whispered, her voice trembling, her hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer.
He groaned softly, his hands kneading her breasts as he sucked harder, alternating between teasing flicks of his tongue and firm, fervent pulls that sent waves of heat coursing through her.
"More," she whimpered, her voice thick with need, her fingers tightening in his hair as her hips shifted slightly beneath him.
Joe smirked against her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple just enough to send a jolt through her. "You like that?" he murmured, his voice rough, his breath warm against her.
"Hmmm," Andrea managed to nod, but the sly glint in her half-lidded eyes betrayed her. In a burst of boldness, she tugged his head closer, pressing herself against his mouth as if daring him to keep going.
But just as the tension built to a peak, Joe pulled away, his lips glistening and his expression maddeningly smug. Andrea's chest heaved, her breath coming in uneven gasps as she stared at him in disbelief.
"What… why did you stop?" she demanded, her voice sharp with frustration.
Joe leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking over her flushed skin and heaving chest with quiet satisfaction. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, his smirk widening. "You're all cleaned up," he said smoothly, tugging her shirt back into place with infuriating nonchalance.
Her jaw dropped. "Really?" she asked, her voice low and disbelieving.
"Really," he replied, his tone light but his eyes dark with amusement. He rose, returning to his seat as if nothing had happened, casually taking a bite of his food.
Andrea stared at him, stunned and frustrated, her mind still swirling with the warmth of his tongue and the intoxicating pull of his lips. Slowly, her expression shifted, her lips curving into a sly, determined smile.
Oh, I don't think you can get away with that, she thought, her eyes narrowing at his relaxed demeanor.
Joe glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, catching the flicker of mischief in her gaze. His smirk deepened. He knew exactly what he'd done—and he couldn't wait for her retaliation.
As they continued their breakfast, the air between them buzzed with unspoken tension, every glance, every subtle brush of hands across the table a silent promise.