The last noodle was slurped into his mouth, leaving the enormous bowl empty.
Goten set the bowl on the table with a crisp clink. Not a drop of broth remained.
He reached back and slipped an arm around her.
His palm pressed against Ayame's waist beneath her apron, his fingers tightening as he felt the exquisite softness beneath the fabric. He leaned against her, rested his chin on her shoulder, and nuzzled her twice.
"First Wife, that bowl of noodles in rich old broth really hit the spot."
"Keep the biggest slice of chashu warm in the pot for me. I'll be back after I slaughter that wild dog running loose."
Ayame did not shy away in the slightest.
Her long brown hair slipped off her shoulder and brushed Goten's cheek. She even turned slightly to press closer to him, her pale fingers reaching to his chest to draw the open neckline of his training clothes closed, a little at a time.
When her fingertips brushed his collarbone, they lingered on that patch of skin for an extra beat.
"All you ever think about is eating."
"Come back soon. I'll keep your food warm in the pot."
She lowered her voice until her lips almost touched his ear.
"And I'll keep myself warm under the covers upstairs. I'll leave the door unlocked for you tonight."
Ino nearly crushed the cup in her hand.
Sakura had bent her chopsticks.
Temari hid half her face behind the ledger, the bases of her ears reddening. After "second-floor wear and tear," she added another column with her pen-"projected additional expenses."
Tsunade snorted.
The hem of her Kage's Ceremonial Robe swayed, her figure, one of the finest in the Shinobi World, rising and falling with her steps as she walked straight up to Goten and