Page 12 of Maxwell

"I guess we should eat something." He murmured when he got his breath back.

“Hmm. Can we stay like this all day?”

His deep chuckled tickled her. “I have no intention of starving you. I’m making Spanish omelet."

"Yummy." Was her response, but still didn’t move.

"How about a shower?"

"Are you saying I stink?"

"Of sex. yes." Levering up with her clamped around his waist, he headed for the doorway. "Let’s shower together."

*****

"What?" He shot her a glance and thought fleetingly that she looked like a teenager. Her face was free of makeup and she’d coiled her hair at the top of her head. The blue sweater made a distinct contrast against her caramel complexion and her chin was propped on one hand.

"I love seeing you doing that." She nodded to the efficient way he was whisking eggs. "I bet you don't do it often."

"I have a very good housekeeper who’d be horrified if I took over the kitchen. Besides, I don't have time to cook."

"You had to learn."

He nodded as he cut up ingredients to add to the eggs. He’d found bell peppers, some rosemary and cheese. "Mother was always working and it was either learning to cook or go hungry. I chose the latter and found I liked it." Turning, he dumped the ingredients on top of the mixture. "I don't get to do it much these days."

Adjusting the flame, he poured them some more coffee and sat at the table with her. "I’m surprised you know how to turn a stove on." His smile was teasing.

"I love to cook and took a course when I was in France. Whenever the staff are away for the holidays, I cook for me and Daddy."

"Hmm." He sipped his coffee. "There are so many things that took me by surprise about you."

"Such as?"

"The way you behave, the fact that you’re not up yourself." He grinned as he went to rescue the omelet. He’d popped some bread into the toaster, a recent acquisition as well. He’d added several modern conveniences as soon as they’d started seeing each other. He slid the omelet onto two plates and buttered the toast.

Moving forward, he handed her a plate, before taking his seat. "And that you even looked in my direction."

"I couldn’t help it. You cornered me as I made my way to the ladies. Hmm. This is wonderful."

"I wanted to mess with you. Thanks." Picking up his cup, he sipped coffee and stared at her. "You looked so cool and classy that I wanted to see if I could dirty that up a little."

She raised her brows at him. "You did more than that."

"Yeah. I persuaded you to go into a room with me and I screwed the hell out of you. It was a challenge at first and then it became a conquest. I had to have you." Picking up his fork, he sliced into his toast.

"I told myself I shouldn’t have touched you. I knew who you were, of course, and I was bored out of my skull with all the aimless conversations and pretty people with pretty lives wandering around. I wanted to shake things up a little."

"I knew who you were too. Hard not to, since you were featured on the cover of Forbes." She pointed out. "I was furious with myself for allowing you to have your way with me." She recalled.

"And I made love to you without using any protection. That wasn’t like me."

"I slapped you."

"Out of pique." He grinned lazily. "You were miss prim and proper and changed that. You were loud."

"And you were rough."

His eyes darkened. "Yeah." He busied himself with his omelet. "I almost ripped you apart. You were so damn small and I drove into you like an animal rutting."

---