"Really, Christian. You don't have to do this," I say as I waltz into the kitchen with the packets of blue cheese and mushroom and a bottle of red wine. I manage to put them down on the kitchen counter next to the minced chicken without dropping anything.
"But I want to help, Ana."
I cross my arms across my chest wondering if letting my fiancé help me make chicken was a good idea. Of course, usually I wouldn't mind if he wanted to help. But I also happen to know letting Christian into the kitchen when he wants do something else on the kitchen counter was not a good idea. And by something else, I really don't mean chopping spring onions. And I should know, from my previous experiences.
"Come on baby, let me help," Christian says, his eyes going round and full like fathomless pools. I could have been stubborn too, but his eyes and his smile does things to me and before I know it, I'm shrugging and letting him into the kitchen with a clipped, "Behave yourself."
Christian grins and places a swift kiss on my lips, momentarily leaving me dazed as he brushes past me to kneel by the fridge. "Always," he says.
And I don't believe him.
"Alright, could you shred the cheese cubes, please? I'm going to do the onions," I say turning to the counter top. Christian pulls out the cheese and the grater and begins shredding the cheese slowly as I chop up the onions.
Just as expected, Christian keeps shooting me not so conspicuous glances and smirks, but I stubbornly look down at the onions and avoid looking at him - let's be honest, I am going to lose all self control, when I look at his handsome face. Besides, my eyes were watering too much and tendrils of my hair escape from my hair twist and fall around, framing my face and falling annoyingly into my eyes. I try to push it back, but it was just too difficult with a knife in my hand.
Christian, having finished the cheese was watching me with an amused smile. Finally he steps forward. "Here, let me get that for you," he says and gently tucks the stray strands behind my ear. I shiver despite myself, when his finger tips trail down from the side of my face to my neck.
"Christian... Not now," I whisper reluctantly.
Christian ignores me as his lips replace his fingers and he trails feather soft kisses along my neck. My breath hitches and I clumsily drop the knife as his silky smooth tongue finds the sensitive skin on my neck. "Oh my...baby..." I say, my voice going husky with sudden desire as I lean back into Christian's strong and firm chest. Christian whips me around, so my chest is pressed flush against his and continues his little assault, peppering kisses down my chest as his hands tease the bare skin above the waist band of my ratty old denim shorts.
I am quivering with desire and sudden urge to take Christian inside me, but I hold back. I realise that Christian was getting exactly what he wanted, distracting me yet again in the kitchen. And Gods! I just couldn't resist that charming bastard.
Well, not this time too, Ana, I tell myself.
And that's when, I smile deviously against his lips and kiss him fiercely. Christian is surprised by my sudden passion, but he says nothing as his hands wrap around my waist and he lifts me off the ground. Seizing the moment, I bring my hands covered in melted cheese to his face. I break the kiss and pull away, and instead push my cheesy hands on his face and triumphantly rub the goo over his shocked face.
"Gotcha!" I say victoriously with a smirk.
Christian gets over the shock and he narrows his eyes at me. "Oh, Ana! You're in so much trouble!"
I let this sink in with dread when Christian grabs the mustard sauce dispenser from the kitchen rack and aims the nozzle at my face. I squeal in panic and try to duck, but the jet of mustard sauce hits me square on my face.
While I splutter indignantly, Christian laughs.
"This means war, Grey!" I say coldly. I grab the bottle of ketchup and squeeze it on Christian.
"That's it. You're on," Christian says and lunges at me with the mustard sauce and freshly chopped onions. I grab the nearest bottle of coke and shake it open on his face as I run screaming around the kitchen. Christian chases me around the island, throwing veggies and chicken pieces at me and I for my share, hurl spoons and spatulas and ketchup at him. We were both laughing uncontrollably even as we threw food at each other.
And that was precisely how, a few minutes later the kitchen had been transformed into a mini war zone that looks like a food grenade had exploded in it.
Splatters of red ketchup, mayonnaise and mustard sauce covered every visible surface, egg shells littered the floor and brightly coloured veggies were stuck on the walls and the ceiling. Christian and I were no better. Our clothes were wet and sticky, my hair looks like a rat had crawled in and died, Christian's face was vividly coloured with all the sauces and we were both making out in the middle of all the carnage. I have to say, Christian's lips were delicious, quite literally. My hands tangle in his copper curls and my legs lock around his waist as Christian pushes me against the island counter urgently even as our tongues are dancing to tunes of desire. His hands move under my shirt and I moan as I slide my hand under his own shirt, enjoying his rippling muscles.
Christian breaks away from me for a few seconds and I squirm in his arms as I try to pull him back. But he smirks at me cockily. "I thought you wanted me to behave!" he says.
I groan as I look up at the Greek god in front of me. "You broke the rules. Might as well go all the way," I say and pull on his shirt.
Christian laughs, but complies as he claims my mouth again hungrily.
And... Well, I think it is just safe to say we skipped dinner that night. Of course, we had something MUCH better...
Just a drabble! Please review!