Desiree
"Merde!" I smile.
He's been on an Italian spiel. I guess when in Rome?
Technically, when in Sicily.
"Desiree, did you leave this here?"
I snort, stirring the eggs. "No. I don't leave things places."
"Then what are these," He leans past the wall, flashing a thong.
I shrug. "I don't know. Is there something you need to tell me, darling?"
He huffs, stepping into the kitchen, smoothing his hair back.
Is it just me, or is he handsomer in Italy? It really brings out the Italian in him. Usually he's just a tan, musclar...
"What the hell are you doing in here?" He asks.
"Cooking you breakfast," I pout.
He sighs, sadly eyeing the eggs I've...browned.
"Oy! Come on, baby. You know you can't cook!"
I roll my eyes. "I can cook!"
He takes the pan off the eye, setting off to the si
