And, while doing so, she told herself it didn’t taste unbelievably great (even though it did).
Chapter Four
Explanation
After they ate their breakfast (Sonia couldn’t finish hers, which Callum allowed, but he cleaned her plate, an act she thought was borderline intimacy which caused her to feel warm and cold and scared and excited all at the same time), Callum demonstrated that he was not quite finished racking up his sins.
Firstly, he took Sonia’s hand and led her to the living room.
When she said, “I’ll do the dishes.” He replied, “Later.”
Sin number one.
Everyone knew you cleaned the kitchen right away. If you didn’t, the gunk would solidify on the plates and skillets and it would take ages to soak it away. Further, Callum wasn’t exactly a tidy cook, he’d made a right mess.
However, considering her varied uncertain circumstances, chief of which was the fact that she’d been kidnapped, she decided at that point not to argue about dishes.
He stopped her by one of the large club chairs, dropped her hand but went to the fire and stoked it, throwing another log on.
Then he walked across the room to the other hearth situated on the wall on the other side of the bed and stoked that fire, putting a log from the huge pile at its side on the burning embers.
Then he committed sin number two.
He walked back, sat in the club chair, leaned forward, took her hand and gave it a firm but gentle tug so she came off her feet with a small, surprised thus uncontrollable cry. He twisted her body as she fell and she landed in his lap.
She pulled up and away but his arms locked around her.
“Um…” she muttered cautiously, “what are you doing?”
“As I said, after breakfast, I’d explain,” he told her, his arms growing tighter, drawing her closer. “I’m explaining,” he finished.
“Um…” she muttered again, even more cautiously, trying not to get alarmed. “Can you explain sitting here while I sit on the couch?”
She thought, considering she just met him an hour or so ago, this was a reasonable request.
“No.”
There it was. Callum being very firm.
Apparently he thought it wasn’t reasonable.
Sonia begged to differ.
“I’d be more comfortable on the couch,” she informed him.
“You’d be more comfortable in my lap if you’d relax,” he replied.
Okay, maybe she wasn’t insane.
Maybe he was.
Instead of relaxing, she tensed.
“I barely know you,” she noted.
“We’ve got a week to rectify that,” he returned.
She stared.