I almost bit my tongue to stop it from telling her how many kitchens I had.
“They’re cheerful in any room,” I said. “I must have hundreds of sets by now.”
“You should photograph them! That would be an amazing gift for your mother someday.”
“I thought you said that photos don’t have real life in them?” I said.
We turned northeast, away from the water, toward her neighborhood.
“Photos can have a lot of life,” Sasha said, running her free hand through her hair to tame it as it tousled in the breeze. “I just think that original paintings have more.”
“That’s fair.” I could listen to her talking about art all day. “Do you paint?”
“I used to, in school. But it didn’t work out.”
That sounded like a sore spot that I should avoid if I wanted to keep our energy light. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a small container. “Here, try one.”
She lifted out a lumpy brown ball. “What’s this?”
“Walking fuel. Peanut coconut chocolate with a chickpea base so there’s some protein to keep you going.”
Taking a bite, her eyes smiled while her mouth was too busy chewing. “Mmm. So good!”
We walked in silence for a few minutes before she shoved me slightly with her shoulder. “Keep talking. Tell me something else about yourself. Honestly, Oakley, what do you do?”
“I nurture people’s souls.” As she peered into my eyes, she saw that I was completely serious.
“What?”
As we passed a parking lot, I lifted her by the waist, pressing her back against the wall of a building, kissing her hard and deep as she wrapped her legs around me to hold on. Her soft gasp as she felt my hard shaft pressing against her made me nearly lose my mind.
“Do you like this, Sasha?” I growled softly as I nuzzled under her ear. “Do you like it when your nasty boyfriend grabs you for a kiss?”
“Yes,” she moaned, turning quickly to capture my lips again.
Ignoring people walking by on the sidewalk behind us, I kissed her hungrily, our mouths opening as we tasted each other.
“You’re so sweet, baby,” I murmured.
“Mmm,” she moaned, then made a tiny whining noise as I set her on her feet.
“We certainly can’t let your mother meet me with your legs wrapped around me,” I chuckled, smoothing down her skirt for her while exploring the hot curves of her ass and hips.
“Are you saying that you want to meet my mother?” she asked.
“Maybe not yet.”
We started walking again, the houses getting larger and farther apart, and the cars in the driveways becoming more expensive.
“Oakley, are you ever going to tell me what you do?”
I smiled as I looked down, then thought I detected a tiny note of fear in her eyes. “Does it matter what I do for a living?”
Sasha shook her head quickly. “No, not at all. I mean, I hope it’s something that you enjoy. But I really don’t care if it’s something that, you know.” Her eyes darted away as she bit her lip slightly.
“You really don’t care if I’m rich or poor?”
Her hair swished back and forth as she shook her head emphatically. “Not in the slightest.”