I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)

29. messy.

|◁ II ▷|

demi lovato — sorry not sorry.

THE KITCHEN WAS messy — real, real messy.

And so were Maya and Samuel who had broken into a fight, flicking specks of flour at each other.

"Take that!" Samuel shouted out of her view, flicking her with an arm dagger of flour.  She tried to duck from his swing but her legs were uncoordinated, buckling under the pressure.

Many of her shots had been misfired with flour littered on the countertops, the taps, the fridge door, on the cooker hood and the parts of the ceiling.

"Stand down," Maya attempted to declare a ceasefire, whilst on the lookout for her foe, who had been hiding — somewhere, in her kitchen.

She searched through the cabinets and unrhythmically opened drawers, praying for the opportunity to strike him first since he had her smothered in flour and he had hardly been bruised.

There was quiet — something that the walls of her apartment weren't used to. She took a quiet step, but  the lack of any movement was eery.

"Hello?" All she heard was her voice echo.

Her foot creaked along the floorboards as she petitioned him again to come out of hiding — but Samuel watched her every move, and found that he was more attracted to her than he had ever been.

He was tempted.

Tempted by her — to lunge out of the corner that he had sought refuge in from her flour throwing and forfeit this game, so that he could experience the astounding joy of having her collapse in his arms.

"Come out. I promise I won't bite" Maya laid down her mark, armed with a whisk as though it was sure to do something to him, "Unless you want me to"

His feet wanted to take the step to move but it was his pride that wanted to continue to wait.

"Samuel? I'm just gonna step out...." She began to reduce the sound of her footsteps to preempt him into thinking that the coast was clear.

With her back turned, he pounced, loading her lips with another helping of a light flour smack, "Aha!"

Maya was unsure whether to cry or hysterically laugh, but she was leaning to the latter. She had stood, pent-up, for a good few minutes — and Samuel seemed certain that the woman who always seemed to something to say; had become speechless.

She finally drew out a word, "You're dead."

His russet-brown reflected into hers, who stood unmoved to her empty threats, "Really?"

"Yes, really." Maya attempted to hold firm, but her body naturally responded to the impassioned linger of his eyes that didn't exude patience and had the same zeal as... Ebén.

Maya's skin ran hot — she needed to catch a breath.

But couldn't.

She reminisced, the deft movements of Ebén's tongue that swirled and licked her sweet spots and had her screaming mercy. The grip in his brown, muscled hands as he flipped her into different positions to allow him to blow out her back.

"I didn't expect you to call me," Samuel told her, not that he didn't believe in his own sauce — but because he always felt that there was some unfinished business brewing between Maya and Ebén.

He had never been one to go or to do things where he was susceptible to being under appreciated.

"I am sorry that I've been so off the grid. I've just been super duper busy."