He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair next to the cabinet.
He undid his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, and he was behind her, his chest against her shoulders, his hands left and right from her on the countertop. The rough beginnings of a beard grazed her cheek when he put his face next to hers to study the disaster on the cutting board.
“You crushed it, rather than sliced it,” he said.
His body pressed into hers when he leaned forward to reach a different knife, the largest one. He put her hand on the handle and closed his warm fingers over hers.
“Look, like this.”
The sinews in his forearm flexed; his movements were rhythmic and quick. She exhaled. She felt his muscles work against her shoulders as he chopped away, so effortlessly, so innocently, while he had her pinned against the cabinet edge with his hips. The less she tried to keep up, the smoother the knife went about its task. Her hand was loose under his. She turned soft in his embrace. He splayed the fingers of his free hand over her belly and his lips brushed the shell of her ear.
“I would like to have you now,” he said, the words humming in his chest.
She nodded, her lower body already painfully heavy with surging desire.
He let go of the knife.
“I have nothing prepared,” he added.
“You could—” She turned her face to the side. “You could withdraw.”
“If that is what you want, I can do that.”
His fingers had undone the apron strings; he was opening the belt of her wrapper. The counter swam before her eyes. When he had said now, he had meant now. Would they do it on the floor? Standing up?
“You really liked that I cooked for you,” she said, sounding shaky.
A fleeting kiss to the side of her neck. “I like when you show your affection.”
He pulled the wrapper over her head and placed it over the back of the chair. She was in her undergarments, tied into her corset. Still dressed, Elias sat on the chair and spread his knees. Like that, then. He took her by the wrist and maneuvered her between his thighs. His eyes were half-closed when he looked up at her and put his hand into the slit of her pantaloons. He touched her carefully, lingered on the soft inside of her thigh, before he went higher. His throat moved when his fingers found her wet. She stared into his face, in an erotic stupor that made her slack and immobile.
He slipped a finger inside her.
“Take me out,” he said.
Somehow, she bent down and found the buttons, then the cord of his underwear.
“Yes, like that.”
He withdrew from her and pushed down his trousers enough to make a good space for her, then took himself in hand and looked her in the eye. She straddled him and hovered, a last hesitation before meeting him skin to skin. His mouth softened. His other hand rested lightly on her thigh. It hurt, feeling so much for him, and there was only one way to ease it.
When he entered her, she gripped his shoulders.
“Breathe,” he said, his tone soothing, his eyes feral.
Her throat was hot. Her thighs were trembling. He held her by the hips, supporting her when she paused.
“I imagined doing it like this,” she whispered.
His fingers dug into the soft part of her hips. “How does it feel?”
She closed her eyes. “Very full.”
“Does that please you?”
She nodded and sank forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. She inhaled him through a layer of cotton. He urged her down a little more then, and she made a breathless sound. She felt the fabric of his trousers against her bottom. He held her until he felt her relax. When he finally moved, she understood that sitting on top did not necessarily mean being on top. For a while, they did it fairly quietly, just to the sound of their panting, then the chair began to creak, then it squeaked across the flagstones. She lifted her head and looked around. The setting sun slanted through the window; smoke hung in the air. Chaos on the cabinet.
Elias let go of her hips. He raised his hands to the knot of his cravat and untied it.
“Let me cover your eyes.”
The black silk glided through his fingers. His shirt was open now and revealed the V of his chest.
“You may,” she said, and touched his throat. He might do anything to her this moment and his small smile said he knew.
Darkness fell, silky smooth on her closed eyelids. His rich scent clung to the fabric. She shivered, and his warm mouth met hers, then she felt his tongue. Now all that existed was him. Until he lifted her and slid from her, leaving her empty and yearning.
“Shh,” he said, and turned her around by her shoulders. He walked her a step.