Haircuts & Flirtations // Jenlisa

2

"If those are tacos, I might have to get down on one knee right now," comes a sleep-scratchy voice from behind.

Lisa doesn't react.

Just smirks, inwardly, as she transfers the two speciality breakfast burritos from the paper bag to the warmed plates on the counter.

"Guess you'll have to delay that proposal then."

She hears the faint pad of bare feet approaching, but doesn't turn around. Instead, busies herself with tossing the scrunched up, empty bag into the trash for recycling.

"Although, trust me—" Opening the refrigerator, she stoops and peers inside. "This is the best burrito you will ever have in your life."

She moves the six-pack of beer on the bottom shelf aside to reach for the mineral water at the back.

Adds dryly, "So maybe engagement is still on the cards for us."

"Yeah?" Jennie says, drawing nearer. "Better be worth the hype. And the prenup attorney."

Unseen, Lisa's lips twist in amusement.

She grabs a couple of bottled waters, straightens up and straightens her face, kicking the fridge door shut with her heel.

"Oh, it is."

She isn't even exaggerating.

One of the advantages of living in this neighborhood is the abundance of great eating spots nearby. And the simple yet delicious fare from Me Gustus, a lively, unpretentious Mexican joint located just a few blocks away, is among the best in the Eastside. Also something of an undiscovered gem, until that piece on the LA Times website put it on the map—and on the radar of every aficionado within a twenty mile radius, if the lines are anything to go by.

But, suddenly, food isn't really foremost in Lisa's mind anymore.

Not when she pivots to face Jennie at last.

Jennie, who's standing there wearing Lisa's wrinkled black shirt and nothing else.

Cuffs rolled up.

Shirt gaping open at the bust.

Unbuttoned far enough to reveal a broad stripe of smooth skin and a partial glimpse of the curves of her breasts.

The hem skims the tops of Jennie's thighs, displaying the stretch of smooth, tan legs, all the way down to painted toes, and Lisa's gaze goes up, up, up.

And while there isn't any mystery about what's hidden beneath that shirt, prior knowledge doesn't stop Lisa's brain from shorting or her heart from stuttering inside her chest, or do anything to blunt the hot stab of lust that pierces through her.

Because, fuck.

Betraying a hint of self-consciousness, Jennie sweeps a hand through her hair, offers a sweet, coy smile while Lisa remains frozen at the counter; silent and staring.

"Is this okay? I just grabbed the first thing—"

She doesn't get the chance to finish.

Lisa is in front of Jennie in a flash, backing her against the island, cupping either side of her jaw and kissing her. Mouths open. Tongues meeting in a dirty slide.

"Warn a girl first," Lisa mutters when they pull apart for air, only to tip her head the other way and reconnect their lips. Hands going under the shirt tail to grab Jennie's bare ass and pull her closer, bringing their bodies flush from thigh to stomach to chest.

Jennie's low, throaty laughter causes another warm stir between Lisa's legs, a tightening in her belly.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."