Page 17 of Caged in Desire
“Yes, and as it turns out, they do. They add crème fraîche and ice-cold butter. So after a few practice batches, this is my version. It looks just like the photo that Gordon sent me and…”
“Gordon?”
“Yes. Gordon, the head chef at your school. He remembers you loving the eggs, actually, and video called me yesterday to watch my technique. That’s why I’m somewhat confident you’ll enjoy them, although they’re likely cold now that I’ve been faced with the Spanish Inquisition.”
Licking my lips, I watch her track the movement before I speak.
“You’re correct about the eggs. I tolerate them because I never wanted to upset Potts, she was always so confident in her skills,” I say, finally taking a bite.
As soon as I swallow my first bite, I'm transported back to school and the morning bustle of the refectory, teeming with excitement for the day ahead.
“These are better than Gordon’s, Katarina. Please tell Potts so she can—”
My wife interrupts me, and I can’t say that I mind once I hear what she has to say.
“I’m afraid I refuse to give up my trade secrets, and in any case, Gordon made me swear an oath I wouldn’t tell. You’restuck with me making your eggs every day, Mr. Sinclair,” she says, defiantly, clearly expecting me to push back on her daily presence at my breakfast table.
Well, she’s surprised me far too many times this week. Perhaps it’s time to try to even the footing. And if she wants to spend more time with me, maybe she does have an interest…or it could just be yearning for companionship. Either way, having more time with her for myself is the first step.
“I’m certainly not going to stop you.”
Her smile may be her best one yet as she agrees, and I consider that although she’s now changed my routine twice within two weeks of being here, I can’t say that I mind. As she discusses another article from this morning’s news, this one about international diplomacy, I see clearly that I’ve underestimated her based on her age, unfairly so. I’m enjoying her company more than I could have imagined, which is a problem. The more time I spend with her, the more likely I am to put my hands on her. And once I’ve touched her, I know there will be no going back.
By the end of the day, I’m ready for my evening routine and bed. I told Katarina this morning that I would be late after a dinner meeting, and I find myself disappointed that I won’t see her. She’s only been in my life for a little over a week, and one missed dinner has me in need of an outlet to burn off some steam. Heading toward my suite to change for my workout, Idon’t get far before the subject of my musings falls into step beside me, taking two steps for each one of mine.
“Hello, Henry,” she says quietly, and I immediately note a hint of sadness in her voice. She’s dressed in her all white fencing attire, with her hair in a twisted braid around her head. She looksdelectable.
“Hello, Katarina. I thought Sasha was going to call?” I ask, stopping as we reach the hall.
She sighs before sadly gesturing with the saber she’s carrying.
“He was, but he had some kind of work thing come up and wasn’t available. I figured I would try to get some practice in. I went through some footwork and bladework combos alone, but it’s just not the same.”
It takes everything in me not to suggest another kind of physical challenge to her for the evening. I’m about to invite her to the gym with me when she interrupts.
“Would you like to come with me?” she asks sweetly, gazing up at me with hopeful violet eyes.
I’d like to come with you, in you, on you…
“I’d love that,” I say. “Although I’ll wager that you’ll wipe the floor with me. I meant it when I said I haven’t sparred in many years. I’ll change and meet you at the piste?”
She eyes me up and down.
“I can’t believe they make gear your size, but yes, I’ll see you there.”
I change quickly and head for the piste, finding her adjusting her mask in one of the mirrors lining the long addition. Standing behind her, she doesn’t reach my chest, and I can’t help but lean forward to place my chin on top of her head. She stills, and her eyes find mine in the mirror before she smiles.
“Ready to get your ass kicked?”
Thirty minutes later, she’s given up on “knocking my rust off,” as she phrased it, and is, indeed, kicking my ass. I’m in amazingshape, but she’s so damn quick, parrying and attacking before I can even use my much longer limbs to an advantage.
“I don’t know what you do for cardio other than swimming,” I say, bent over with my hands on my knees, mask off, and sweat dripping into my eyes from my hair. “But whatever it is, I need to keep up with your program.”
Her laughter rings out as she prods me with the end of her saber, prompting me to stand up and replace my mask.
“It’s called being a teenager, Henry. You might not remember since it’s been so long.”
I’m too winded to respond to this brat with more than a heavy wheeze. If she weren’t running me ragged right now, I would spank her perfect ass so hard she would think twice about teasing me like that. As it stands, all I’m able to do is try to catch my breath before standing back up to further make a fool of myself.
