Chapter 5: Risk in the Kitchen

A weekday afternoon sun slanted through the kitchen windows, turning the whole house into something brighter and more exposed than our usual stolen nights. Katie had texted earlier that her late class would keep her out until at least six, maybe later if she grabbed coffee with friends afterward. I told myself this was the last time as I pulled into the driveway, but the memory of David’s body moving inside me last weekend still lingered like a low, insistent pulse between my legs. My excuse was studying—notes spread across the dining table, laptop open—but we both knew why I was really here. The front door clicked shut behind me with a sound that felt louder than it should in the empty house. Sunlight caught on the polished hardwood, the faint hum of the dishwasher running in the background, the occasional drip from the sink where David was already working.

He stood at the counter in a faded blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing the corded strength of his forearms. A toolbox sat open beside him, wrench in one hand as he tightened the faucet. A single bead of sweat traced down the side of his neck. I set my bag down quietly, pulse already kicking up a notch at the sight of him so casually domestic yet utterly focused.

“Need a hand?” I asked, stepping closer. My voice came out steadier than I felt.

He glanced over his shoulder, that slow, knowing curve touching his lips. “Thought you were here to study, not play plumber.” But he handed me a small adjustable wrench anyway, our fingers brushing longer than necessary. The contact sent a spark straight down my spine. “Unless you’re offering something else.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. I passed him the next tool, leaning in a little too close, the scent of his skin—warm, slightly salty from the mild exertion—mixing with the faint lemon cleaner on the counter. “Maybe I am. You looked like you could use some ... assistance.”

The banter shifted fast, the air between us thickening. He set the wrench down and turned fully, backing me against the edge of the sink with one smooth step. “You rode me like you couldn’t get enough last weekend,” he murmured, voice dropping low and rough. “All that confidence in my bed. Think you can handle me right here, where anyone could walk in?”