Page 52 of Power
“You’ll have to smile and bear it,” I say.
“Hmmm.” We enter the kitchen, and she stares at all the equipment. “Thing is, if it tastes like crap, I’m so going to let you know.”
I chuckle as I open the fridge and start moving the ingredients to the counter. “I’m making a real carbonara.”
“Real? As opposed to a fake carbonara?” Reece asks as she props herself up on one of the stools and watches me. “What’s that?” She points to the meat.
“Guanciale.”
“Of course, it is.” She furrows her brows. “Which is what exactly?”
“It’s the pig jowl. This is the recipe I was taught by an Italian chef.”
“An Italian chef? Wow, look at you go. When were you taught to make this?”
“This is something I learned when I was about twenty. The way I was taught is to cut this in chunks. But first, I need to put the water on to boil.” I look around and scratch my chin trying to recall where the pots are. “Aha, over here.” I open one of the doors and I’m rewarded with what I’m looking for.
“Is it fresh pasta?”
“What?” I look up from the sink where I’m adding water to the pot.
“Is it fresh pasta?” she repeats.
“What do you take me for, a heathen? Of course, it’s fresh.”
“Oh, because the dried packaged stuff isn’t good enough for you. You’re a food snob now, are you?” she teases as she watches me turn the gas on and place the pot on it. “Millions of people eat dried pasta, and there’s nothing wrong with them.”
I swing around and lift my hand, pointing at her. “You’re putting words into my mouth.”
“You could have your mouth full with something else, if you want.” She is not backward about being forward.
I shake my head as I throw a good pinch of salt into the tepid water. “You’re in a world of trouble tonight, Miss Maxwell.”
“Unless there’s another interruption. Which I’m getting used to.”
“Nope, no interruptions tonight. I’ve given clear instructions that unless we’re under attack, I’m not to be disturbed.”
“That’s a welcome change. Though, like I said, it’s understandable if you’re called away.” Reece places her elbow on the island counter and rests her head on her fist, watching me.
“You’re watching me,” I say, trying to swing the conversation from me always abruptly leaving.
“You’re kinda sexy to watch.” I smirk at her words as I prepare the space for what I need. I take out a chopping board and place the chunk of guanciale on it. “The chef who taught me this recipe told me that in the Roman times, they’d cut the meat into big chunks.”
“Aha.” Reece stands and eagerly watches as I slowly chop the meat. She kneels on the stool and wiggles her ass in the air attempting to distract me. “Are you trying really hard not to get hard right now?” She waggles her butt again.
I blink several times but hold it together. “I’m not getting hard,” I lie through my teeth. Just having her in the room with me makes my cock stir.
“That’s a good thing.” Reece leans forward making her top gape so I can see she’s not wearing a bra. Her nipples are pert and erect, and perfectly ready for my mouth and tongue to lave them with attention.
I clear my throat and look at the chunk of guanciale. “Um...what was I doing?” Jesus, she’s so distracting. I take a few seconds to center myself before I pick the sharp knife up and cut the guanciale into smaller chunks. “So, the secret to a good carbonara, is it starts here.” I point to the pieces I’m cutting. “Grab a frypan.”
“Oh, you brought me here so I can cook for you?”
Reece hops down and heads around the island counter to search for a frypan. She leans over, gifting me with a perfect view of the jeans hugging her taut ass. I stop chopping so I can stare at it and my cock responds by getting harder. I drop the knife and grab her hips, thrusting up into her through our clothes. “The things I want to do to you.”
Reece straightens and turns in my arms. “Hey, you said you’re going to cook.” She glances at the meat, then back to me. “So, cook.” She steps back and looks around my kitchen. “Frypan?”
I return my attention to the meat. “Over there somewhere, I think.” I flick my head toward the cupboards near the range.
