Page 27 of His to Take

“Oh! That’s delicious!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.

“I thought you’d like it,” I grinned.

Her body relaxed just the tiniest bit. It made me happy to see it.

“I really do. You’re full of surprises, Ryker Gates,” she mused, and I smirked a little, catching her gaze and making her face redden even further.

She hastily took another bite, chewing quickly in an effort to fill her embarrassed silence. I decided that I would have to be more direct with her.

“How are you feeling this morning, Naomi?” I asked with just an edge of concern, but I kept my voice soft.

“A bit sore,” she admitted, “Like, all over sore!” She self-consciously glanced up toward me and then back at her plate. I reached out and took hold of one of her hands, gently brushing my thumb back and forth across her knuckles. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and I squeezed her fingers a little.

“Do you like that you’re sore?” I pressed.

Just when I thought her cheeks couldn’t turn any redder, they did. With a turn of her head, she avoided my gaze and chewed her lip. When I happened to catch her glancing back at me, it was almost as if she was waiting for something. I knew what to do.

“What did I tell you last night, Naiomi? I expect an answer when I ask you a question,” I pushed. I did nothing to hide the warning in my voice. I chose that same moment to squeeze her hand in mine. She stared down at my fingers with a heated look.

“Yes,” she breathed. She opened her mouth to say something else, but immediately closed it as if she’d thought better of it.

“I like it too, very much,” I continued in what I hoped was a reassuring tone. “Finish your breakfast, little girl.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled, and my cock jumped at the sound of it.

With as much self-restraint as I could muster, I let her eat the rest of her meal in peace and when she was finished, I slid another pancake on her plate.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she exclaimed.

“One more. For me,” I encouraged, and she smiled tentatively before taking another bite. She ate the whole thing without further complaint, which only confirmed that she was as hungry as I had suspected she might be. She’d worked up an appetite last night; I knew I certainly had.

“That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Is it a recipe from your home?” she finally asked. Dabbing her lips with a napkin, she smiled up at me. Her wariness had mostly dissipated, but I wasn’t going to push anything just yet.

“My mother’s recipe. It was passed down from my grandmother, and her mother before that. I don’t really know whence it originated, but it’s been in the family for ages,” I explained.

“I came across an old recipe book once. I always wanted to try to make something from it,” she said.

“Do you still have it?”

“It’s in the museum archives at the moment. I feature it in rotating exhibits on occasion. Not many of the recipes are legible. It was partially burned in a fire at the New York Public Library,” she explained. Suddenly, it was as if she was in a faraway place, her expression wistful.

“If we get a chance to visit my home, I’ll show you my recipe book. I have to warn you, it’s pretty messy with notes and scribbles everywhere. It’s practically a family heirloom at this point.”

“I’d like that,” she smiled.

I got up to clear the plates off the table after she’d finished. She protested and I shook my head. Her chin lifted in defiance as shetook hers from my hands, carrying it to the sink and washing it without a word. I almost chuckled when I saw her glance back over her shoulder, almost as if she was waiting to see what I would do.

I didn’t do anything. Not yet.

Sure, I wanted to, but I didn’t want to scare her off. She’d grown up in an entirely different world than I had, one that was solely focused on work and productivity rather than the simple joy of living lives in community with others. I knew enough about New Englandia to know that everything I’d brought into her life so far was new to her. She wasn’t used to a man like me, one that wanted to care for the woman by his side while also giving her everything she needed in the bedroom, red bottom and all.

Fuck, I’d been the first man to ever kiss her, so I was most certainly the first to make her come. From the startled look on her face last night, that was probably her first orgasm ever in her life. I needed to be careful with her. I didn’t want to hurt her or scare her away.

She deserved to be cherished.

I waited until she was finished washing the dishes before I leaned against the counter and lifted my arm, beckoning her to come to me. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

She bit her lip nervously, drying off her hands for several moments too long before she eventually braved the journey over to me. The closer she got, the more I had to resist the urge to gather her up in my arms and take her right there on the kitchen counter.

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