The sound of pans rattling in the kitchen told her he might not have left at all.
She rose slowly, her muscles still aching from their abuse last night, especially in her shoulders. As she brushed the snarls out of her unruly hair, she noticed for the first time the red abrasions around her wrists where she had fought against the cuffs. A light touch made it tingle more than sting, a lingering reminder of his determination.
Rather than dressing, she pulled on a robe and went down to see what he was up to.
He stood at the stove, intent on whatever was cooking in the pan in front of him. She smelled fresh coffee, and there was already orange juice poured and set out on the counter. When he turned, he lifted French toast out of the pan in his hand. "I thought you might be hungry," he said conversationally.
"You're making breakfast?" She just stared at him, flabbergasted. "You never make breakfast."
Sebastian motioned for Laura to sit before joining her across the island. "There's a first time for everything, I suppose," he replied. "I rather enjoy it, actually. Are you certain I've never made you breakfast before?"
"Believe me, I would remember if you had." She watched as he shifted a couple of slices of thick toast onto a plate and handed it to her before sliding onto a stool and taking up a fork.
The powdered sugar and butter blended to form a syrup of its own that ran over the side as she cut into the bread, hesitantly putting one bite in her mouth. The delicate flavor exploded on her tongue, sweet and rich and dense. Closing her eyes, she savored the taste with a soft moan. "Oh, I could get used to this."
He sat in silence for a few moments as they ate before finally asking, "Would you like to? Get used to this?"
Setting her fork down, she studied him as she took a mouthful of coffee. "What are you suggesting? You're going to come over every morning and make me breakfast?" "Not come over so much as already be here." With an aggravated sigh, she set down her coffee cup and picked up her fork again. "Sebastian, it's early, and as you may remember, I had a very long night. Just say what you mean."
"I'm going to move in with you, Laura," he responded authoritatively. "I already have a number of my things here, so it's not that great a leap."
She nearly choked on her food. "Move in?" she sputtered. "Here? Are you crazy? Why on earth would I agree to that?"
"I didn't say I wanted to move in, Laura, I said I'm going to. There's nothing to agree to," he replied, casually sipping his coffee. Now that he broached the subject, he didn't find the topic as difficult as he imagined. The mistake he often made with Laura was giving her an option. If he gave her the opportunity to shoot him down, she would. He wasn't giving her a choice in the matter this time.
She slammed her fork down on the counter. "Damn it, Sebastian, you can't just come in here and take over my life. This is my house, my privacy, and you can't just—"
He cut off her words by curling his hand around the sensitive mark that encircled her wrist.
Careful to grab her wrist just hard enough to get her attention, he said, "Yes, Laura, I can just. And furthermore, you want me to." He squeezed the mark a little harder, enjoying the sharp hiss it elicited from her. He dropped his voice very low when he spoke next. "You want me to."
She did. If she was really honest with herself, she did want him to, because it would mean as much of a limit on his freedom as hers. It would mean he was serious about what he had said last night. But, God, it terrified her. She hadn't actually lived with anyone since Hank. And the way their schedules had been, they hadn't really lived together so much as resided in the same house. With Sebastian, it wouldn't be like that at all. They both kept similar hours. It was completely uncharted territory for her. Maybe that wasn't such a terrible thing after all. Still, she couldn't just give in to him right away.
"I'm used to having my own space," she protested half-heartedly. "And you know how bad I am at sharing." "And you think I'm any better?" "See? We're both too old for this. Too set in our ways." "My dear, Laura, I think last night was a very good example of just how much we aren't set in our ways." After a moment, he added with a sly look, "Just think of all the ways you'll be able to make me miserable to pay me back for last night. Living under the same roof, at your beck and call. And now that you've discovered that I can make a fantastic breakfast..." As though aware of her uncertainty in that way he always was, he offered her a lifeline. "I promise, Laura, I won't hurt you." And he held out her his hand.
He seemed to really be sincere. After all the struggle and games, it was odd to see him so open. She detected nothing false in his promise, his outstretched hand offering her everything she wanted. She really couldn't doubt him any more. Hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand in hers, a surprisingly intimate gesture and one they'd never partaken of much. They rarely ever touched each other outside of sex. It was... frighteningly normal."So what happens now?" Her touch was so gentle. He could get used to it. Smiling faintly, Sebastian shrugged. "Give it a go, muddle through, and hope we don't kill each other in the process," he suggested lightly, pleased when she rewarded him with a faint smile of her own.
"So," she pulled away, this time to reach for her fork again, putting a casual face on her sudden sense of vulnerability. "What else do we need to work out? Division of labor? Bills? Or am I just going to pay everything and you'll be my house boy and kept man?"
"I always did have aspirations of being a kept man," he responded, glancing at her slyly as he tucked into his food. "I will tell you up front that I'll do most anything in the house except take out the trash."
She snickered. "I'd love to see you doing the dishes. I've got this cute little frilly apron that would go just beautifully with your eyes..."
About the Authors
Philippa Grey-Gerou , or Grey, was born the eldest daughter of a Protestant minister in New England and was raised in various small towns throughout the Northeast and Midwest, where there was little to do but live in her imagination. She was a voracious reader, and started writing at an early age, settling on that as her life's work before higher education led her astray. After attending state and Ivy League universities to earn degrees in History, Anthropology and Folklife Studies, she settled in suburban Pennsylvania to start her own family. There she rediscovered her love of the written word, and has been writing ever since. She's been in love four times, had her heart broken twice, broke another's heart once, and is currently working on her happily ever after.
For more on Grey and her thoughts and experiences on writing and the big wide world of publishing, visit her website at www.greygerou.com. Or you can write to her directly at [email protected].
And sign up for her mailing list Passion Oscura:
(http://groups.yahoo.com/group/passionoscura/) for monthly excerpts,
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Emery Sanborne considers herself a work in progress. She loves Philadelphia, Lake Michigan, taking long walks through old cemeteries, accents from the British Isles and writing. While she has yet to fall in love, she holds onto the hope of one day being completely swept off her feet by something other than a really good book or the strong city wind.
Collect all 12 Phaze Fetish Stories! Games Dragons Play - Michael Barnette Love Lessons - Kate Burns At the Edge - Marty Rayne Cupid's Captive - Reese Gabriel Celeste - Augusta Li Onyx - Mychael Black and Shayne Carmichael Girls on Film - Jade Falconer Discovery - Rob Graham Breaking Skye - Eden Bradley Speed Dating - Yvette Hines Passion Aggressive - Philippa Grey-Gerou and Emery Sanborne Taken by Tarot - Eliza Gayle Now available at www.Phaze.com!
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