Perfect Sunday

Making pancakes with him, such a fun activity most weekends he is here. Today, particularly he chose to be extra critical of my methods in making the batter. As if there are other methods to do a pancake batter. I rolled my eyes and continued with the batter while waiting for the pan to heat up.

Slightly annoyed, I poured the batter in the pan and as I placed the mixing bowl back on the counter, I felt his arms encircled my waist and felt soft sensual kisses behind my neck.

I smiled and just melted in his arms. I love the way he riles me up with his unusual way of getting to me.

Now, if I can only make him do the dishes without telling him tree times, It would be a perfect Sunday.

One thought on “Perfect Sunday

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