Page 35 of Pushed Through The Dark
"Then let me give you something he didn't, let me teach you something real."
Biting on my lip, I was hesitant to give any trust to that man. He smiled softly and tipped his head for me to his side.
"Fine," I answered, dropping down from the stool, and standing next to him. He slid the cutting board over and held the knife out to me. "You sure you trust me with this?" I asked. "What if I try to use it against you."
"You won't, you don't have it in you."
My lips pulled taut as I held the knife up in my hand. "You don't know me well enough to know that for sure."
"I can see it in your eyes," he said as he stepped to the fridge. Dropping a thick chunk of meat onto the board, he held out his arms. "But if you do try, you better make sure you're on point, you'll only get one chance."
I held the knife out, aiming the sharp tip in his direction. "I could do it, I could kill you right here."
"Go on, do it then." Koa turned to face me head-on, puffing up his chest, and taking a step in towards the knife.
My hand started shaking as I actually debated jamming it in the center of his chest. I was trembling so much the knife was rattling side to side as I inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady my muscles.
Koa grinned, dropping his shoulders as he said, "You're not a killer, little minx, and I won't let you start now. Once you cross that line, you can't ever go back." He reached out slowly and gripped my wrist. "Here, let me show you."
Standing quietly, his eyes darted between mine as he gave me a little smile. Twisting my body gently, Koa guided the knife to the meat and stepped up close behind me.
"Here, you want to cut against the grain." The sharp knife slipped through the meat like it was butter, and the slab fell over with a wet smack. "Can you see it? The way the fibers are running parallel down the meat."
He used my hand again as if it was his own, and sliced another chunk. Adjusting on his feet, he pressed in even closer. I could feel him as he took a breath, the way his chest reached out and grazed my back with each inhale.
I was waiting for the next one, anticipating with bitter need his chest pressing against my back again. It was terrifying and alluring all at once. I liked the way he felt there. I felt safe and protected, but I also felt fear, a fear that he'd use me however he wanted until he felt full and threw me away.
Leaning over my shoulder, he rested his head by my ear. "You try," he said, his voice the softest I'd heard since I'd been there. The warmth of his breath rolled down my neck, bristling my skin, and making my muscles quiver.
His cologne swirled up around my face, and his fingers glided down the back of my hand as he pulled away. But he didn't step back, he stayed close, wrapping me in his arms as he rested flat hands on the counter.
I wanted to smell him more, to enjoy the notes of sandalwood and juniper as he hovered over me, manipulating my body in ways I'd never felt before. My heart was pounding, my stomach was fluttering with a million butterflies.
What the hell is going on with me?
He set my hand on the edge of the pan and helped me pour the meat into the pot. Placing one seasoning at a time in my palm, we sprinkled them into the food together until he thought there was enough.
The flame on the stove heated the beef stock inside, and we stirred everything together. It was the most sensual thing I'd ever done with someone that wasn't sexual. The scent of the food filled the room around us, and once it was boiling, we lowered the heat and covered it to let it simmer.
Every touch was gentle, precise, and drawing up feelings inside me I thought were dead. The butterflies turned into a hoard of locusts, and the air around us was thick as molasses, making it hard for me to breathe.
I never knew cooking food could be so arousing. My thighs were rubbing back and forth, and there was a warm, slick puddle building between my legs. The feelings inside me were foreign, I didn't want them to be real, but they were here, fresh and alive.
"Alright," he said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a bag of flour. "Now let's make some bread."
He left me to gather a few other items, and instantly I was cold. The heat from his body was gone, causing me to shiver like I was standing in the snow.
Come back.The request sat silently in my head.
Setting down a bowl, he handed me things to add together; sugar, water, yeast, and then he dumped it into a large bowl with the flour we measured out. Using his hands, he mixed the dough until it lifted off the inside walls of the bowl.
"Alright, sprinkle some flour on the counter."
Doing as he asked, he came back behind me, and I embraced his warmth. I felt my body lean back as he leaned in. I felt my heart start to pound as he brought his face over my shoulder, and our cheeks were almost touching.
"Here, we need to work it like this." His hands found mine, and we kneaded the ball of dough together.
I had no idea what was wrong with me. I was supposed to hate this man, but every second we stood there like that, close and snuggled together, I felt my body changing.
