He turns and hauls himself out. The water pours down his body, trickles along his strong legs and his feet.
Somehow, it feels very intimate to see his bare feet. More than even seeing him almost naked.
He bends and holds out his hands. When I take them, he hauls me out like I weigh nothing. My feet touch the floor. He waits until I’m steady, then he releases me. His gaze slides down my body, and his throat bobs. The sudden tightness is his shoulders tells me he’s not immune to seeing me in a bikini. Which I may have worn because it shows off my assets.
When he raises his gaze to mine, his blue eyes have darkened. They seem like the deep water he likes to dive into. Fathomless. Restless. Full of things he won’t say aloud.
"I love your curves."
His eyes are hooded as he rakes his gaze over my body again. He’s generating so much heat, the water droplets on his chest seem to sizzle.
But not even that stops me from sneezing.
The smile from his lips fades. He looks properly concerned.
"We need to get you warm and back to the restaurant."
40
James
"Good morning, would you like a cup of coffee?" I look at her over my shoulder.
It’s the day after the incident at the swimming pool.
She’s dressed in her black pants and white shirt, the way most of us dress in the kitchen. When we get to the kitchen, she’ll slip the chef jacket on top, a pity because it’s going to hide her magnificent bustline.
But also good…because it hides her magnificent bust line from the rest of the brigade.
It seems the thought of anyone else looking at my wife fills me with what feels suspiciously like jealousy. I shove that thought away.
My Ember is grumpy in the mornings as she grunts her reply. Who’d have thought?
I continue with my task: frothing the milk carefully, pouring it over the coffee, topping it off with cinnamon, then placing it in front of her.
She looks at it with surprise, then at me. "You know how I take my coffee?"
But all I do is shrug. "I’m a chef. I notice everything related to food and drink. Why wouldn’t I notice how you take your coffee?"
But the honest answer would have been because I notice everything about you.
Do I know how anyone else on my team takes their coffee? Or my siblings, for that matter? Nope. I stiffen.
The first time I heard her ask the barista at the restaurant for a coffee. I didn’t even make a conscious effort to remember. I just absorbed it.
She takes a sip and moans.
My heart rate ticks up. So does my cock, which instantly takes interest. At this rate, I’m setting myself up for a cardiac, just by the way my body reacts to her. I turn away and busy myself with cracking the eggs and beating them. I pour it over the vegetables on the skillet, then turn the strips of bacon on the other one.
"Are you cooking?" Her tone is surprised.
"I asked you to be there an hour earlier to receive the deliveries. The least I can do is feed you."
When she falls silent, I turn and ask, "What?"
She purses her lips. "It’s my job to be there to receive deliveries. I don’t need special treatment."
"You’re my wife; you get special treatment."
