**ROSEANA**
As I turn the scrambled eggs, my lips are pouting in irritation. This is supposed to be for breakfast, but it's past nine o'clock, so I don't think it is. It's an early lunch.
I removed the pan and placed the egg on a platter. The next thing I focused on was the pork steak I was preparing. This is for our lunch; therefore, I'm preparing a variety of meals.
"That smells nice." I heard Damon's footsteps approaching. My nose is soothed by his fresh shower gel.
I didn't glance at him and instead concentrated on what I was making. I took a spoon and tried the food I was making to see if the flavor was what I was looking for. I am grateful that I have learned to cook. I don't have a problem with cooking for myself and Damon because I learned at such a young age.
I suppose this is one of the few advantages of learning to stand on my own. I don't have someone to rely on to cook for me; therefore, I need to learn how to cook or I'll go hungry. Aside from having to cook for myself, I also had to plan how to get food to be cooked. Life is cruel.
"But my wife still smells the best," Damon added. I just noticed his arms were wrapped around my waist once more. He rested his head on my shoulder.
Damon's habit of seemingly looping his arms around my waist like a snake has me on the verge of thinking he's some kind of serpent. This man was always flirting with me, I noticed.
"Let me taste it," he mumbled. He opened his mouth and waited for me to feed him with a spoon. I cocked my brow at him. What more is this man up to?
"Ahhh..." He grabbed my hand, which was holding a spoon that I used to sample the meal I was cooking when he noticed I wasn't moving to feed him. I expected him to put it in his mouth to taste it, so I was shocked when he put it near mine.
I gazed at him, wondering what he was doing. "Blow it for me," he instructed.
I didn't even move. "Come on. Blow it for me, babe," he pleaded childishly.
I sigh and then do what he instructs. I feel like I got myself a baby in his form. After I blew it for him, he put the spoon in his mouth. I waited for his response. I'm confident in my cooking abilities, but I'm not sure why I'm still waiting for his approval.
"Now that's food," he said, satisfied. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
"You are not just a beauty, babe. You cook like a chef as well," Damon complimented. I rolled my eyes at him. He saw what I did, so he laughed.
"Hey, didn't you believe me?"
I shook my head at his question. If he didn't talk much before, he has become too talkative now. He seemed to have his world before and ignored me, but now he is very clingy and sweet.
"Damon, don't bother me anymore. No matter what you say, you still have to go to your company now," I said. I tried to entangle his arms around my waist, but the man just tightened his hold on me.
"Really?" he inquired. He placed his face toward my neck. He pressed his nose against my skin.
"Damon, what are you doing?" I asked, closing my eyes. I tried hard not to show how nervous I was.
"Nothing," he replied.
"Stop it."
"What? I am just telling the truth. Your scent is more fragrant than the fresh flowers blooming in the morning," he whispered to me.
I clenched my eyes tightly, knowing that if I gave in to Damon's flirtation, we would probably end up doing nothing today. This isn't an issue for me because I don't do anything here at his house other than cook, clean, and do laundry. Whereas he cannot be absent from his company even if he says that he is the owner.
"Damon..." I stuttered. It was only a word, but he already knew what I was trying to say.
He inhaled deeply. He seemed to mutter sullenly, "Fine."
He unwrapped his hands from around my waist, but not before robbing me of a kiss on the cheek. He took the scrambled eggs I had made before I could react.
I can only shake my head, trying to keep the smile from appearing on my lips. Damon came to the kitchen a few minutes earlier, a devilish look on his lips.
"You want coffee or milk?" he inquired.
I considered his question. "Just milk, please, and I'd like it cold," I replied.
When we were together recently, I noted Damon's preference for black coffee. He prefers his coffee bitter; therefore, he just uses one teaspoon of ground coffee. I can already taste how bitter his coffee is just by looking at it.
He also has a habit of making me milk or coffee when he makes something for him. He poured a carton of cold milk into my glass and brought it to the table. I finished cooking, so I brought it to the table.
Following that, we ate in silence. I keep an eye on him as he sips his coffee. I'm left wondering how he manages to drink something so unpleasant. Perhaps it is as bitter as medicine.
When Damon noticed me staring at him, he questioned, "What?"
Before responding, I reached for a drink of water. "Isn't it better?" I questioned, my face grimacing. I take a look at his coffee.
"I prefer it black. I'm used to it." He shrugged.
I nodded in response to his response. That is not surprising.
“You don't want to put milk or sweetener on it?" I inquire. He doesn't use milk or creamer in his coffee, which I noted. Not that it's required. I just like coffee with a lot of creamer on top.
"No, I haven't tried."
I didn't say anything in response to what he said. I simply continued eating. Damon was the first to finish his meal. He stood up and was ready to depart when he came to a halt at my side.
I set my glass of milk down and stared at him. I assumed he was heading to his room to get ready.
He lowered his head. When Damon reached for my lips, my eyes widened. I was even more taken aback when he stuck his tongue in my mouth. My mouth is still full of milk!
"Sweet."