Chapter 10 : Domesticated

*Dove*

I had been living with my husband for just over a week now and we had somehow fallen into a sort of routine.

We were domesticated.

Like a true husband and wife.

When I rolled over this morning I had been expecting to find him in bed but he was not. The side of his bed was neatly made and the door to the bathroom and closet were open.

That was odd.

Usually, he needed my help to get ready for the day. But maybe he had managed on his own today.

I peeled the sheets off my body and stretched, taking in the view from the bed. Waking up to the city skyline was something that I never wanted to take for granted. As time passed I was sure that I would stop being in awe of the view but I still wanted to appreciate it while I still had it.

I stretched my arms out, put on my slippers, and made my way out of the room. I don’t know but I woke up with a strong craving for pancakes, and just any kind of pancakes—my mother’s blueberry pancakes.

It was the weekend so Greta and the rest of the staff were not in the house so I had free reign of the kitchen. I knew that if she were to be here then she would not be having me cook. She said that the lady of the house ordered the chef, she did not become one.

Adapting to the rules of this place was taking some time. I was sure that Greta and I would meet halfway. But for now, I would humor her.

I walked into the expansive kitchen and smiled.

This had always been a dream of mine to have a kitchen this nice. Well, not exactly like this. I would have much rather had a farmhouse-style kitchen but this was beautiful all the same.

I dug into the pantry and got busy making my pancakes. This was a weekend special in my household growing up. I would always wake up to the smell of fresh pancakes every morning and I loved it. The house would be filled with laughter from my mom while she laughed at my dad’s lame jokes. And they would kiss each other senselessly like I wasn’t there.

Those were the good days. Those were the happy days but then it all went wrong when Dad left us for his new family.

“What smells so good?” Miles wheeled himself into the kitchen with a megawatt smile on his face. “Pancakes?”

He was dressed and ready for the day. His stoing scent of spice and expensive leather hit my nostrils and I all but melted. He always smelled delicious and it was hard not to be attracted to that.

“You want some?” I asked, already plating him a few. “I made far more than I can consume.”

He rolled himself to the table. “A woman after my own heart.”

I got our breakfast ready and set it on the table for us. I sat down opposite him and dug into my pancakes. One bite and I was instantly transported back to my childhood. All the fun mornings we had had and the family time that had been spent.

I missed it.

“These are really good,” Miles said with a half-full mouth. “I didn’t know you could cook so well.”

“I would cook more if Greta would let me. She is adamant about not letting me do any kind of ‘chore’ but cooking for me is no chore. It’s almost like therapy. I love creating different recipes and seeing what works and what doesn’t. Food is my way of expressing myself.”

He tilted his head to the side taking me in for a second or two. “Food is your writing.”

“What?” I asked, looking at him.

“I journal. When I need to express myself or gather my thoughts I write them down. It’s my way of expressing myself since I can’t exactly run.”

This saddened me a bit. “I know you may not care to hear it but I am sorry about your legs.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is at the end of the day. I am still alive and I can still work. Just because I am confined to this chair doesn’t mean that I am incapable of reaching my full potential.”

I nodded in agreement. “How long have you been in…uh…the wheelchair.”

“Three or so years now. I lost my legs in an accident that also took the life of my partner Tiffany.”

I gasped. “I’m so sorry.” This man knew a great deal of pain.

“It’s okay.” He placed his cutlery down and looked at me. “Have you ever shaved someone before?”

I shook my head, getting whiplash from the change in conversation. “That’s an odd thing to ask.”

“Well, I need some help shaving my beard if you don’t mind. Usually, John helps me but I gave them all the weekend off.”

“Oh, I-I mean, I can try,” I said slowly, licking my lips.

It’s not like I was going to be holding a blade to his skin. So, what’s the worst that could happen?

***

I wheeled Mile into the bathroom and put him by the sink. I would be lying if I said I knew what I was doing but I had been having such a good time with him that I didn’t want it to end.

Was I being a clingy wife? Nah. I was simply being a friend.

I opened one of the drawers and got out his shaving stuff. I could feel his eyes watching me like a hawk. I was always so hyper-aware of him. I had found that over the days that had passed, I was now accustomed to his personal scent. It was both strong and fresh like pine wood.

“Okay.” I set the cream and shaver down on the counter and turned to my husband. “So how do we do this.”

“Cream first.”

Little sparks of electricity traveled between the two of us. There was this buzz in the air that had become a common occurrence whenever we were together.

I gulped, trying to get this lump that had formed in my throat down. He was just a man like the other billions that existed in the world. There was nothing overly special about him.

That was what I had to tell myself to keep my heart from trying to jump out of my chest.

I grabbed the cream and stoof beside him. “Tilt your head up please.”

He did as I asked.

From this angle, I could see that his eyes held different shades of blue. The same way the ocean did. Closer to his pupil the blue turned lighter like the sky and toward the outside of his iris it had a more deep blue color.

I gently rubbed the cream onto his cheek. The short stubble on his chin pricked my palms as I did so. This was such an ordinary thing to do. Men in barber shops did this on a daily basis but for some reason with us, it felt far more intimate and sensual.

My hair cascaded to one side acting as a curtain to the wall. My eyes moved across his face as I carried on my work. I was doing my best to not look into his eyes. I knew that if I did I would lose all sense of self. He had that kind of effect on me.

When I was done lathering, I reached for the faucet and washed off the excess cream. The blood in my veins rushed past my ears, the heart gathering at my cheeks. There was an unfamiliar purr coming from my core. I pressed my legs tightly together to keep myself from feeling those kinds of things. The blood rushed to my core, causing it to heat with arousal.

I tried to pick up the shaving stick but my palms had suddenly gone sweaty and I dropped it off the counter. Before I could pick it up Miles reached for it and handed it to me.

“Thank you.” Our fingers brushed, sending a pleasure-filled shock wave throughout my entire body. “Ummm, okay…the shaving part now. So, how do we do this? Do I just tilt your yea and then I—oh.”

Miles grabbed me by my waist and pulled me down onto his lap.

“Here is fine.” His warm breath fanned my face.

His hand heated the areas it touched on my waist. I was still in nothing but a baggy T-shirt and boyfriend shorts.

“Um,” I cleared my throat, “okay. We can do this here if you would like.”

“You okay?” The softness in his tone threw me for a split second. He was handling me like a delicate flower.

“Yeah.” I tried to snap myself out of my trance. “I just was surprised. This position seems a little…close. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But it’s the best way for you to help me. And you forget I can’t feel my legs so you aren’t hurting me at all.”

I squeezed my eyes shut feeling horrible for disregarding his disability again. This was now the second time this had happened.

“I’m sorry. I…I somehow always manage to put my foot in my mouth when it comes to you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from my face. “I like how you see past the wheelchair. A lot of people don’t. They think me to be weak and less of a man.”

“You are more man than Tarzan himself.”

The silence that washed over us was loud and the embarrassment that flowed into my body was potent.

Why could I not control my mouth when I was around him?

“So shaving?” I placed the shaving stick on his chin and started shaving him. I would be lying if I said I knew what I was doing. This was the first face I had ever shaved.

After a few strokes, I got into a rhythm and got comfortable. Stroke after stroke I shaved his beard and helped him to become a new man.

By the time I was done, Miles was clean-shaven and we had somehow gotten closer to each other. Our faces were just mere inches from each other, that I could practically smell him.

Our breaths mingled together between us.

My eyes flicked to his lips for a split second but that one mistake caused his eyes to darken.

Something dark and dangerous reared its head in the middle of my chest. It was daring me to do something. It was willing me to lean forward and connect my lips to his.

And I wanted to, oh how I wanted to just connect my lips to his.

“Dove.” The way he said my name was like a plea.

Do it. Just lean in and do it, my internal voice egged me on.

My heart hammered heavily in my chest. The blood gushing past my ears, and the adrenaline filling my veins.

All I needed to do was lean in and I—

A ringtone blared into the thick cloud of anticipation and longing. The spell immediately broke and I hopped off his lap like he was on fire.

“You…should probably get that,” I said before running out of our bathroom in haste.

I had almost kissed Miles Scott.

I HAD ALMOST KISSED MY HUSBAND.