Page 20 of Natasha
Chapter 4
Natasha awoke slowly. Her body ached, and she stretched with a slight grimace. The last time she had awakened in such a state was the morning after her final professional performance. Why was she so sore? She twisted to the right and stretched out a leg, but she froze the moment her foot brushed a well-muscled calve. The previous night came flooding back to her in a rush of memories that left her flushed.
"Right," she whispered, licking her lips and turning her face to the side to see Silas soundly asleep next to her. His blond hair was tousled, falling over his forehead, eyelashes so long, they were practically touching the tops of his cheeks. He seemed younger in his sleep, and she relished the opportunity to see him so worry-free. She could tell he was a man with a lot on his shoulders. There was something about the carefully composed man who had Natasha yearning to make him smile—anything to bring some levity to his life—which shocked her. She had never been the carefree type, not even when she'd been just a girl.
Training to be a prima ballerina did that to a child, she supposed with a frown. There had been a lot to live up to with both her grandmother and mother's reputations as prima ballerinas looming ahead over her. There were always expectations to be met, long days spent in the dance studio, hours in the gym working on her strength and conditioning, carefully prepping her meals for optimum nutrition, turning in early only to wake up before dawn the next day to do it all over again. All of that discipline had skewed Natasha's temperament to that of a serious girl, far more comfortable practicing in front of a mirror than interacting with the other girls her age. All of their girlish concerns had seemed so foreign to her, and at the time, Natasha had been grateful when her mother had hired a private tutor and removed her from public school. Except, now, she wished she had more experience with joy, that she possessed more than a passing familiarity with mindless fun, or even just silliness, all of which would go a very long way to making the man asleep beside her happy. She paused and frowned since he was not only a man. Silas was more than that to her.
The exchange of power and erotic desire between them made Natasha feel more in tune and connected to Silas than to any other man she'd been with. And Silas hadn't even touched her sexually after her spanking. She grinned, thinking of how he'd brought her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass each of milk and water. Then, he'd made her eat and drink each glass down, before finally putting her to bed, tucking her close to him and pulling the comforter up to her chin. It had been absolutely what she'd needed. Where had a man like Silas been all her life?
"Daddy," Natasha said quietly, once again testing out the sound of the word. She smiled when she found she liked it. "Daddy," she said again, louder, and with a little more confidence.
"What is it, little doll?" Silas' hand came up to sleepily tangle in her hair.
"I didn't mean to wake you." She ducked her head but nonetheless nuzzled into his palm.
"You didn't?" Silas blinked sleepily up at her.
"No," Natasha blushed with a little laugh. "I was just, well, ah...I was just seeing how it sounded out loud."
"I see." Silas smiled at her, his hand going to her shoulder to pull up the comforter that had fallen to the side. "And what was the verdict?"
"I like it," Natasha told him with all the certainty she could muster, and it was the truth. "I like it very much." She turned her face shyly into the comforter with a smile on her lips.
Silas rolled closer to her and lifted a corner of the comforter up to peek at her. "Hiding in here?"
"It's my blanket fort," Natasha joked from beneath the blanket, her voice muffled by the blanket.
"I'd say your idea is good, but we'll have to work on your execution." He gave her a playful smile and lightly dropped the blanket back down over her face.
When she felt the bed dip and Silas rise to his feet, Natasha sat up to see him stretching and moving toward the bedroom door. "Where are you going?" she asked, though she could see the alarm clock was proclaiming it to be 10:00 am, an absolute herculean undertaking for her, considering she had never managed to stay in bed past 5:30 am. Anytime past 10:00 was unheard of.
"Making breakfast," Silas answered, pausing in the doorway. He gave her a pleading look. "Please tell me you have coffee."
Natasha nodded. "In the cupboard to the left of the stove."
"Perfect. I'll see you downstairs, baby girl." Then he was gone, and she was left wondering what a morning with Silas looked like or with a Daddy at all, for that matter.
* * *
Natasha tookher place at the small table in the kitchen not long after Silas began cooking. She tucked her feet beneath her and settled in to watch the show. There was something innately sexy to her about a man in the kitchen, or it could have also been that anything Silas did could get her hot and bothered. The coffee was brewing as the bacon merrily sizzled away in a pan, and Silas whisked what looked to be pancake batter in her favorite large yellow ceramic bowl.
"Pancakes?"
"Yep."
Natasha leaned her chin against her knees, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I haven't had pancakes since I was a kid. How did you put together the batter?"
"Ah, you learn a thing or two when you've got a niece with a sweet tooth." Silas nodded at her cupboards. "Besides, you had everything for it. Bake a lot?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. The kids enjoy a treat after class."
"Oh, I know. I've heard all about Ms. Natasha's cookies." Silas winked at her. He ladled the first pancake into the pan on the stove. "Mine just can't compete, apparently," he said with a mock scowl.
Natasha laughed. "Maybe we can have a bake-off. Winner gets bragging rights."
"I think we can arrange that. Too bad not today." Silas flipped the pancake in the pan with a toss of his hand that had Natasha's mouth rounding into a perfect O.
"Wow," she breathed, eyes on the pan in his hand.
