Chapter-37🌜 Restrained temptations
Zane's POV
This much butterflies should be illegal. I am talking about the ones currently having a boxing match with my intestines.
Happy is not even the word I would use to describe myself right now. It's such a petite little word. And this feeling is just out of the world.
Did it just take some lava to melt my husband's heart? Apparently.
My husband.
First day of calling him that, in my mind of course. Don't tell him that, though.
My lawfully wedded brat.
I don't know why, but just the thought of calling him that makes me bloom like a tulip. He doesn't like me one bit, and here I am getting more excited than I was ever allowed to be, just because he agreed to do something with me.
Something this domestic.
Then the name calling... God, I should feel insulted or even bad, but I don't. I am still recalling our chit-chat, and mentally kicking my feet and jumping off a cliff.
There's this part of me that will definitely see it all black, but currently I'm taken over by this euphoria to care less about it. Things are going well. Better. So it's better not to spoil things, and let's just be in the moment.
I tighten the strings of my apron as it hugs around my waist. I must say the whole kitchen looks so professional, but at the same time so homey. A glance at it, and you won't be able to pick whether it's an IKEA kitchen or the set of a home decor magazine.
I guess it's the used but maintained appearance of it which gives this vibe. It's used by some highly qualified chefs on a daily basis, after all.
My eyes wander back to the forbidden place, also known as my husband. He is currently tying his own apron and it is kinda long for him. Like if mine reaches my knees, his is almost touching his shines.
Pardon me Jesus, but damn he looks like a cute little bunny coming out of the neck of a huge sweater.
He pulls the strings and knots them like they owe him money.
Mhm, a kitten to be precise.
"What are you looking at?" The crack of his smile line deepens, but just on one side, as the grumpy slits of his eyes narrow.
"Nothing."
Was it, though? Shut up. Seeing doesn't hurt, hmm, I don't intend it to at least.
"Whatever." He turns around and picks up some vegetables, not even stopping to see the quantity, as if he's fully confident about what he's doing. Just picking it up and seeing if it's what he needs and then moving on.
I follow his every move. At least, I try to.
But I get a little... urm, distracted when he was putting some brocolli in the basket.
The action itself isn't that appealing but the person doing it is.
And when that person is hunched down and you are getting the most mouth-watering view of their ass, it's quite hard for a weak man.
Both literally and figuratively.
At this point, it's feeling like that last level of a video game where you meet the final boss. The ultimate temptation that he is, but you can't act.
Moving my face away is the most difficult task and the second most is facing him innocently after that. Like I wasn't just making wild, impossible scenarios in my mind. Scenarios that include him.
Scenarios that he wouldn't want to be included in.
To my fortune, he doesn't look at me when he drops that basket on the counter in front of me. "Wash. Peel and chop. Finely." Five words, and I almost come in my pants.
God he's already ordering me around. And I like it.
Making me wonder if he uses that tone in bed.
"Aye-aye commander." I raise my index and middle fingers in a mock-salute. I push my horniness with a leash and let the duo of charm and sarcasm take charge. Not the time, my beloved.
"By the way, why can't you chop them?" I glint at him challengingly, defying his words, his order. While rolling the sleeves of my shirt up.
"Because I'm going to knead the dough, and I don't like chopping. And definitely not onions." His face stays right where it was, focused on the flour in front of him.
"Damn, what did onions do to earn your hatred?"
"They make me tear up." The contradiction of words not matching the expressions is what I see on his face.
Suddenly I have a beef with these fat bulbs in my hand. Though I still say, "princess," under my breath.
He whips his head faster than a bullet train as he glares my breath away. "Did you say something?"
"Nope." The popping of 'p' isn't intentional, but it happens as I try to hide my grin. He keeps his eyes glued to me but then my forearm feels the heat of his eyes, and they stay there for a while before he goes back to that boring wheat flour.
I want to. Need to know what caught his eyes. Was it the tattoos?
Was it the veins?
Was it my skin and bone structure?
Whatever it is, I know which hand of mine is gonna be my favourite now.
"What are we even cooking?" I cut the stretched tension. I actually want to know, because this whole directionless boat is not my thing. I need to know the destination beforehand.
"Indian dishes." Every time I think he can't be more monotonous, he outsmarts me. That response could end global warming, trust.
"Which ones?" I try my dormant luck again.
"As if you would know them." Fair enough. I feel this overwhelming urge to prove myself.
"Hey, I am very much aware of Indian food." I am you know? We had some meetings with Mr. Mehta at some Indian restaurants set up in Berlin, so I am pretty much aware.
"Let me guess, chicken tikka masala and mango lassi is all your knowledge in a nutshell, right?" The glacier melts and the penguin is freed. Because what I hear is a spark of humour in his voice.
His brutal but apt conclusion leaves me wordless for a second before I clear my throat and look straight at him. "we can always change that."
The chopping? Long forgotten.
The kneading? Who cares?
The tension between us can be cut by shovel and it will still stay thick. Both of our eyes are locked together, and there's something so endearing about the look on his face.
It's like my words actually affected him. It was never just about dishes, and he got it.
I want to keep them right there, but he goes back to chopping like nothing happened. Like he wasn't just controlling my heartbeat with the remote of his orbs.
"We are making aloo gobhi sabzi accompanied with some chapati. Also some pulav and then mango kheer for dessert." It goes all up my head, but his pace stays steady while blurting the dishes out.
"As if I know any of that..." I look down and peel the onion in my hand.
"Exactly." Wait do I just hear some teasing in his voice? Damn.
I raise my head and look back at him, but my hands don't stop.
"Careful." He tells me, leaving me confused. But then I remind myself, he's probably talking about the damn onion in my hand. "Keep yourself concentrated while chopping."
"Aww, are you worried about me?" I stare, awed. His face changes into the most absurd sneer as he looks away.
"Shut up. It's because if you get hurt, it will delay the task at hand. We need to get it done by 9:30." Again flat. Looking completely unbothered.
Was it just about that?
I shake my head, but this time, I do keep my eyes fixated on it.
The chopping is almost done, and the dough looks ready for making bread too. But there's pin drop silence around us.
Finally, he breaks the ice. "Saute those onions, until they are golden brown."
"Like you?"
He doesn't answer that, as he lights up the burner and pours some oil in the pan. I add some in the pressure cooker in front of me too.
After the onions are caramelized, I look back at him. He's wiping the sheen of sweat on his forehead with a tissue, as he tosses the—whatever he has in the pan.
There's a dash of flour around the corner of his lips. I swallow hard as I can't keep my eyes away from it. He notices me staring and whips his face in my direction.
Completely oblivious to what I am ogling at, he raises his brow. "You have got something here." I move my forefinger on my face in a wiping motion on that spot.
"Uh?" He flutters his lashes rapidly, after he finally comprehends it. He puts his hand where I mentioned, and gives it some shallow wipes. "Okay, now?"
"Hmm, there's still some left." I bring my hand closer to his face to wipe it myself, but don't touch it yet. Give him the moment to stop me.
But he never does, and just stares at my hand for a second but there's no repulsion in his face, he looks almost relaxed. So I carry on. My thumb brushes the corner of his lips as I give the skin there a slight stroke. Holding his chin up.
Only god knows how much I want to sink it between the deep red buds of his lips. I am hypnotized by them, as if there's a string pulling me closer and closer, as my mind wanders to the untamed territory.
Bewildering about how he will take my thumb between them. Will he give it a soft suckle and make it wet with his saliva or will he choke?
I strangle that allurement alive. This is a cute PG moment, let's keep it that way, brainey. This is not the time for my balls to defrost. William probably doesn't even know how much this moment is affecting me.
For him it's a casual, meaningless moment, one that he will forget about in the next second. I pull my hand back, finally after so many failed attempts. But I don't look at him and go back to tossing and turning.
"Why are we making these dishes?" I try to do a change of topic, and not think about the moment before. "Like is there a specific reason?"
"Didn't I tell you, it's for the rasam." There's some raspiness in his voice, before he clears his throat.
"You did. But I'm asking about why these specific dishes?"
"My mom makes delicious aloo gobhi, and I make pulav pretty well."
"Hmm, so then which one is which?" I look down, he has some rinsed and chopped potatoes in a colander.
"You are sauteing the veggies for pulav and currently I am adding potatoes in the pan. Because after this step, there's not much left and aloo gobhi will be ready." He tells me, while adding them in the pan, piece by piece. A soft sizzling sound fills the room as they blend with the oil in the pan.
So, this is called pulav, hmm. "But if you are good at it, shouldn't you be making it."
"I will take it over after you are done with all the vegetables, and add the spices." He covers his face as he adds some cauliflower. "Sauting isn't rocket science, I am assuming you won't mess it up."
"I won't."
A/N????
Get a room already, damnnn ??
Well, this update came after a while, did you miss me???
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Are you aware of the dishes they mentioned? If yes, do you like them?
Is there something you can cook really well? ??
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