"I hate cold eggs," Eliot growled out. He didn't care at all about the eggs. The eggs were a distant memory, though he did check to make sure the knob on the stove was turned to off. He had just enough awareness to make sure the house didn't burn down around them.
He threw his arms up over his head, to let her tug his T-shirt off. As soon as it was off, his hands were tugging at the buttons on her blouse, pulling it loose where she'd tied it off. He didn't bother to slide it off her, his hands were more interested in handling her breasts once they were accessible to him.