Her life! GxG! Intersex! (Book 1)

148

The kitchen was alive with warmth the faint hum of the vent, the low sizzle of butter melting in the skillet, and soft music drifting from the Bluetooth speaker on the counter. Abigail moved with easy confidence, barefoot in her hoodie and joggers, hair pulled up in a loose bun that was already coming undone.

She'd set out everything with care: thick-cut steaks seasoned with herbs and pepper, a pot of peeled potatoes simmering on the stove, and a bundle of fresh asparagus waiting its turn. The air smelled rich and comforting garlic, rosemary, and butter swirling together into something that could make anyone fall in love twice.

She stirred the sauce gently, tasting it with a small spoon before smiling to herself. "Perfect," she murmured.

Then she heard it the soft shuffle of bare feet behind her. A moment later, a pair of warm arms slipped around her waist. Emma pressed herself against her back, resting her chin on Abigail's shoulder, her breath brushing her neck.

"Hey, baby," Abigail said softly, her voice warm.

"Hi," Emma mumbled, hugging her tighter. "I'm helping."

Abigail laughed, tilting her head slightly. "Oh yeah? What kind of help is this?"

Emma didn't answer at least not with words. Instead, she pressed a slow kiss against the back of Abigail's neck, smiling against her skin. "Emotional support," she said finally, her tone playful and drowsy.

Abigail chuckled, shaking her head as she flipped the steak in the pan. "You mean distraction."

Emma hummed, her hands sliding up to rest over Abigail's stomach, fingers tracing slow circles. "No... motivation."

Abigail sighed, fighting back a grin. "You are way too affectionate for me to get anything done, you know that?"

Emma nuzzled against her shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. "You love it."

Abigail smiled, turning the heat down and letting the steak rest. "You're right. I do love it. But if you keep that up, dinner's gonna end up being takeout."

Emma giggled, her lips brushing just below Abigail's ear. "Then maybe I'm doing my job right."

Abigail turned slightly in her arms, just enough to see her face. "You call this helping?"

"Of course," Emma said with mock innocence. "I'm making sure you stay relaxed."

Abigail leaned down and kissed her forehead, her voice soft. "You've got a very interesting definition of help."

Emma smiled up at her, hands still rubbing gentle circles against her waist. "You don't seem to be complaining."

Abigail laughed quietly, turning back to the stove. "That's because it's impossible to complain when you're wrapped around me like this."

She reached for the pot of potatoes, drained them, and began mashing them with butter and cream. Emma stayed close, her body pressed against her back, chin resting on her shoulder again. The rhythm of it the soft scraping of the whisk, the quiet sound of Emma's breathing felt domestic and intimate in a way that made Abigail's heart swell.

"You know," Abigail said after a moment, her voice teasing, "if this is how you 'help,' I might need you in the kitchen every night."

Emma smiled, kissing her neck again. "Careful, I might hold you to that."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," Abigail admitted, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk.

"Exactly," Emma said, smiling against her skin.