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Chapter Eight
James was up at his usual early hour the next morning, and true to his word, scrubbed the shower clean. When Amanda stirred a couple of hours later, stiff and sore, and declared she’d rather have a bath than a shower, he drew it for her. He saw her safely ensconced in frothy, fragrant bubbles, then took himself downstairs to make breakfast.
She wandered in, flushed and dewy from her bath, just as he was removing the last of the bacon from the frying pan.
“Mmm, bacon,” she said, and crossed to the stove. She was wearing his robe again, her customary thick socks on her feet, her hair still damp from the bath. She slipped her arms around him from behind and laid her head on his back. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replied, and switched the stove off before turning in the circle of her arms and looping his own around her waist. “How was your bath?”
“Lovely,” she said with a sigh, and propped her chin on his chest to look up at him.
“Still sore?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t mind some ibuprofen. My knees are sore, and crawling uses different muscles than walking.”
He stretched out to pull the bottle of painkillers from the cabinet above the stove and shook two out. She took them, and the glass of orange juice he handed her to swallow them down.
“Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “Is breakfast ready? I’m starving.”
He leaned down for a quick kiss and nudged her toward the breakfast bar, where he already had two place settings laid out. “Sit, and I’ll bring it over.”
She wandered over, juice in hand, while he pulled the platter of waffles and scrambled eggs out of the warming drawer. “Coffee?”
He shot her a firm look. “Not until you’ve drunk all your juice, and a glass of water. You’re dehydrated after yesterday.”
She frowned at him. “It’s hard to drink from a bowl.”
He stifled a grin and slid onto the stool next to her. “I know.”
“Sadist,” she muttered, and only sighed when he laughed.
“Eat first, call me names later,” he said, and slid a waffle onto her plate.
“I can do both,” she informed him as he added eggs and bacon next to the waffle.
“Believe me, I know.” He filled his own plate, and, pleased to see her dig into the food, did the same.
They ate in relative silence, pausing only to refill glasses or replenish plates. She drained both her juice and her water with a flourish, then, with a hard stare that dared him to stop her, got up and poured herself a cup of coffee.
Amused, he waited until she’d settled onto her stool with a satisfied sigh. “Better?”
“Much,” she declared, and took a long sip of the fragrant brew. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Not a thing,” he told her. “Today is for rest and recalibrating. I figured we could both use a day to decompress. Yesterday was a lot.”
“That’s an understatement,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
He set aside his fork and picked up his water, swiveling on the stool to face her. “What’d you like about it?”
“Besides the orgasms?” she said with a cheeky smile.
He reached out and tweaked her nose. “Yes, besides that.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, then her expression turned thoughtful. “It was more fun than I expected.”
“Fun?”
“More playful,” she explained. “I don’t know why, but I thought it would be serious. Like, I don’t know, that you’d be pretending to train me or something. I was expecting lots of commands and corrections. Although you did threaten to crate me.”
