Kitchen Steam

Emma~

What I wouldn’t give to stay in that bath forever. The oils and bubbles already waiting in there for me were a welcome surprise, and I realize that he must have called before we were leaving. No wonder he offered to pull me along as we were risking the water getting cold with my pitiful pace.

My hair feels incredibly smooth while draped across my back, and I notice that the fragrances dotted around all have either Sandalwood or Vanilla mixed inside. Is it bold of me to assume I’m the cause, or were these all here before me?

The soreness is quickly becoming a distant memory, and when I finally step out of the now cool water, all that is left is the fatigue.

I brush my hair and dress slowly while the steam from the mirrors starts to fade, and I wish my bathroom was as nice as this. I would definitely want this to become part of my morning routine, and if I were bold, I’d ask if he’d be up for a trade.

When opening the door, I can’t help but hold my breath, wondering if he’ll be on the other side, but he isn’t. He meant it when he said that he’ll leave me to it, and is that disappointment I’m feeling just now? No, that’s ridiculous.

I make my way downstairs at a leisurely pace and find him in the kitchen, waiting for me. He always seems to be sitting there at the breakfast bar, and I wonder what he thinks of all of the changes I’ve been making?

I might not ache anymore, but I’m not really up for cooking and wonder if there are still some leftovers in the fridge we can heat up for dinner.

“I’m too tired to cook,” I announce while opening the fridge, and he raises an eyebrow as if the words were foreign to him.

“I never thought I’d see the day.” He laughs while walking over to join me.

Sadly, the fridge is empty of any ready-made meal, and either I can cook something simple, or cave and ask him to invite that personal chef back over. Neither sounds very appealing.

“I could make us something... if you tell me what to do.” He offers after reading my face, and I stare at him for a second.

“You’ll let me tell you what to do?... and cook for us?” I repeat his offer because it’s not something I can believe.

This is the mighty crime boss that lives with a thousand servants and doesn’t do anything that might harm his reputation. Yet he’s just offered to let me take charge, even in my wildest dreams he’s never said anything like that.

“Keep that up and the offer will be expiring.” He says in a serious voice, but with laughter behind his eyes. I like this playful side to him.

“Okay soldier, the first thing you’ll need is a frying pan.”

It’s awkward at first, telling him what to do, and I quickly forget about how tired I am while walking behind him to hand various spices over.

I’ve decided that a risotto will be simple enough for him, but enough for him to feel put through the wringer. It’s petty, but this may or may not be my revenge for that training session earlier.

This huge kitchen starts to feel smaller by the minute as I find myself standing closer to him, and I’m glad that the heat from the pan covers the permanent flush on my face.

The sauce is bubbling, and I simply can’t help myself when I dip my finger in to have a taste. It’s been made of wild mushrooms and a combination of chicken and bacon for the monster of a man over here. When I offered the idea of a vegetarian dish, that wasn’t received too well.

“Well, that’s hardly sanitary.” He comments on my finger dipping, and I shrug.

“A good chef always knows to try their food.” I reply and dip another finger in again, only before I can taste it for myself, he’s taken it into his own mouth instead.

My breathing catches, and my heart rate increases at the gesture. He sucks slowly while maintaining eye contact, and my cheeks have reached a whole new level of red at this point. How can something so simple feel so sensual?

A pressure low inside of my stomach starts to build, and when he lets my finger go, I feel myself leaning forward rather than away from him.

His hand reaches out to find its home in my hair, and before I know it, his lips are on mine. They’re soft and gentle as they press against me, and I’ve never felt so hungry in all my life.

Another hand finds itself around my waist, pulling me closer, and as my body meets his, I gasp for a second. Making the most of it, his tongue moves through the gap, and another side in both of us awakens.

He lifts me effortlessly from the floor and onto the counter. The risotto is the last thing on our minds now, and this hunger has nothing to do with food. His hands trail up and down my body, and goosebumps are left behind in reaction.

My fingers trace the outline of the muscles behind his shirt, and I feel my hands make their way underneath for better access.

“You’ll be the death of me, Princess.” He grumbles against my lips, but I continue my exploration anyway.

His hands are on my breasts now, making me feel things I didn’t even know were possible when he's moving to lift my shirt. But suddenly the lights go out apart from one single red one in each room, and dense metal shutters start to rise to cover each and every window.

I’ve never seen this happen before. He holds me close, his arms rigid around me.

“We're under attack.”