(CORRINE)
Next thing I know, his chest is against my back, and my mouth turns dry. Suddenly, I can see his point of view. This kitchen is indeed too small for him, for the both of us. His hands are now resting against my hips. "See? There's no space to move around in here. You should get a bigger house. I'll build you a castle here. With gardens. You like gardens. I haven't seen any here."
I can't think with his hands where they are. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to me anymore, distracted by the lamp hanging from the ceiling, but his large hands are still hot against the curve of my hips.
Swallowing, I try to stay calm. "We do have a garden. It's called a yard."
"That small space behind the house?" He blinks. "You call that a garden?"
Bristling, I wipe my hands and turn around to glare at him, ready to say something snappish. How dare he insult my home? "It's not that small. If you don't like—"
