Chapter 13

13

ISAAC

"Never?" How is that possible? Although, I guess it makes sense in a way.

He jerks his head up and searches my face. "I've used the microwave. I would sneak down for a midnight snack since I'm not…" He shakes his head. What is he afraid to tell me? "I can heat a few things. Make myself a sandwich. Chopping things isn't my forte."

"Would you like to learn?" I keep my voice casual. "I can teach you, but only if you want."

He sucks in a breath. His eyes watch me intently. I raise a brow in question.

He shrugs and his gaze shifts to the counter. The cutting board. The vegetables. That's when I realize I've overstepped. "I'm sorry." I pull the cutting board toward me. What was I thinking? "You're a prince. You don't want to cut cucumbers."

I grab the cucumber, but before I can start cutting, his hand covers mine. I'm not an adolescent, but the feel of his hand over mine as I grip the long vegetable, the sight of our hands wrapped around it—it's not difficult to imagine our hands wrapped around his cock as he shows me what he likes.

Adrian jerks his hand back. Could he tell what I was thinking? "That's not—" His face flushes with color and his shoulders draw together.

"Adrian…what's going on?"

He shakes his head. "It's nothing. Silly. I've faced the nation. Other nations. My mother before she's had her morning tea. This shouldn't be this difficult." His laugh is strained.

"Tell me. Please." I want to hug him, but I'm not sure I can take him pulling away again.

He taps his fingers on the countertop. "Where should I start?" He swallows. "The fact that I can't do the most basic things for myself while you are extremely capable? Or," he continues before I can say anything, "that I'm jealous of a fruit because I want you to touch me like that?"

Desire shoots through me at his words. Getting to touch Adrian. I want that so much.

He shuts his eyes, looking vulnerable. Not like a prince. Just a man who is clearly struggling. "I'm sorry. I'm acting like an adolescent boy on his first date."

I give in to my need to comfort him. I walk around the island, gesturing for Adrian to stand. When he does, I wrap my arms around him. His body is warm, and he smells so damn good. I ignore the interest from my cock and focus on comforting him. "It's been a difficult day for both of us." I study his face.

"It has," he agrees.

I kiss the worry line between his eyes. All I can think about is keeping him safe. And maybe hurting all those who've hurt him. I smile. "I love that you want to experience new things. That you're not judging me for my lack of…" I wave a hand at my kitchen. My house. Hell, my world. But I don't break eye contact. "Well, everything. Next to Simon and numbers, cooking is my favorite thing. It's exact but also not, which makes no damn sense." I curl my hand around his neck. "I want to share that with you. Even if it's just cutting vegetables."

He nods and clears his throat. "I'd like you to teach me."

Again my dick has thoughts of its own when it comes to teaching Adrian anything. "Okay, good."

He holds up a finger. "On one condition. And this is important." He watches me, and I nod in agreement. "No calling Reggie if it goes wrong."

I laugh. "What are you expecting, Adrian?"

He shrugs. "Knives have this sharp cutty thing on them."

"God, you're adorable," I say with a chuckle. I kiss him and hold it a second or two before pulling away. Talk about forward. Geesh, Isaac. My face heats. I show my hands to prove I'm no longer touching him. "I'm sorry. That was a bit forward."

His hands cradle my face. "Sweetheart, don't ever be sorry for kissing me. Ever." He punctuates his statement with a longer kiss.

And now I don't want to stop.

"Daddy?" Simon runs into the kitchen, and we jump apart. "I'm hungry."

I turn away, touching my lips where Adrian kissed me. I duck my head, tucking my smile away. "It's in the oven."

Simon runs over to stare at the casserole through the glass. "This is so yummy, Prince Adrian," he says as he turns around, his eyes wide with excitement. "You're going to be mazed."

"Amazed. This should hold you until dinner." I hand him a baby carrot which he accepts, immediately taking a bite.

"Can I help?" Simon asks, the chewed carrots visible. Adrian puts his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. You can set the table." I hand him the napkins and silverware.

"Can Prince Adrian help me?"

"Prince Adrian's helping me." I wave my hand toward the door, and Simon takes off. "Don't run," I call after him.

When I glance back at Adrian, his eyes are on me. "Ready?"

His eyes widen slightly, but then he rolls up his sleeves and nods.

I grin and hold up the knife. "We start with a serrated knife. Easier to cut." Once the cucumber is in the center of the cutting board, I cut off the tip slowly so he can see how I do it. Cutting up a cucumber shouldn't turn me on, but Adrian's eyes are hot on mine. I finish cutting the cucumber, letting the knife fly. I've been cooking since I was Simon's age. I'm good at it. I scoop up the slices and add them to the salad.

Adrian shifts on the stool, but at least he's smiling. "Showing off?"

I glance away, but I can't stop smiling for some reason. "A little."

"I'm duly impressed."

His praise sends sparks of happiness through me, though I'm also embarrassed. I don't show off. I cover my face with my hands. "Oh my God."

"I am impressed, Isaac." He pulls my hands down. "I really am," he says, sounding serious.

I grab a tomato mostly because I need something to do with my hands. "Now it's your turn. You can do this."

He doesn't look sure, but he nods.

"I'm giving you something softer. Not that it matters because the knife is sharp, but I don't want you pushing too hard."

He sucks in a breath, and my blush might be permanent. Why does everything I say sound like innuendos? I need to stop perving on the poor guy. But Prince Adrian is so yummy.

I wonder if he's thinking the same thing because there's something hot in his gaze. I lean on the counter. "You've got to stop looking at me like that," I say in a low voice.

He nods again, but there's a teasing smile on his face.

I hold the knife so he can see what I'm doing. I slice the top off the tomato and then cut it in half. I extend the knife to Adrian, handle first. "Your turn."

He steps back. "Um…all right."

"It won't bite."

"But it will cut."

I laugh. "Take the knife, Adrian."

He takes it and holds it gingerly between his fingers and thumb. Standing behind him, I cover his hand with mine and help him readjust the knife. "Focus, Adrian," I say, my breath brushing over his neck. His breathing increases. Is it necessary for me to teach him this way? No. But the need to touch and connect with him is too strong to resist.

When the cutting board is positioned in front of him, I guide his hand, holding the knife to the top of the tomato. My arms are around him, and the scent of his expensive cologne fills my senses, making it difficult to think. Probably not a great idea with a sharp object involved. "Are you focused?" I ask.

"Yes," he says, his voice low and husky as he leans back. I hold in a groan as his ass brushes against my cock. This is a bad idea.

"On cutting the tomato?" I clarify.

A laugh escapes him. He gives me another quick nod. "Ready."

I guide his hand, demonstrating the proper way to cut a tomato into wedges, and we carefully cut the tomato. "It's better to go quickly." And holding his hand, I make another quick chop. We cut a few more wedges, and I focus on the task and not the feel of Adrian in my arms. When I become lightheaded, I step back and let go. I miss his warmth immediately. Which is ridiculous because Adrian is less than a foot away. I clear my throat. "Now try on your own."

Adrian turns toward me with his mouth open like he has a question. This close, it's hard to focus on anything except this man I want so much. I started the teasing, so it's my fault, but those green eyes stare at me like he thinks I'm beautiful. Desirable. The kitchen fades away. It's just Adrian and his gorgeous eyes.

"Isaac," he says breathlessly. This moment feels more important than it should. We lean into each other and— beep, beep, beep .

The oven. The food. Simon is in the next room. What the fuck, Isaac ? I grab the potholders and pull the casserole out of the oven. I glance at Adrian and away again.

Simon runs in. "Is it done?"

"Yes. Go wash your hands." Heat travels up my neck and spreads through my cheeks. I keep my eyes on the casserole as I check that it's done. I take off the oven mitts and let my gaze travel over Adrian's face. "Do you want me to finish the tomatoes?"

His brows furl. "They're already cut."

"Down the middle. It's easier for Simon to eat that way."

He takes a deep breath. The knife still seems awkward in his hand. His eyes focus on the tomato as he slices it. Unevenly.

I hide my smile behind my hand, but I know he can see it in my eyes. He holds up the knife again, and catching my eyes, he rapidly cuts each tomato wedge in two. They are all cut, some better than others, but they are all done. And no one lost a finger.

"Great job, Adrian." I'm so proud of him for doing something out of his comfort zone, for trying something new.

He absorbs praise like someone starving for it. Does no one tell him how wonderful he is without expecting something in return?