EIGHT

 

Felix

 

Ida pulls down her nightdress, aims a swift kick at the handbag she tripped over, then marches toward her bedroom. The door slams shut and with it my hopes of impressing her. Images of her delectable, round ass keep invading my mind’s eye. With each recount comes a vision of me following her into her bedroom and sinking my teeth into her backside. I need a distraction, so I look to her friend for help, but find she is too far gone to be of any assistance.

Marta is laughing so hard that she sounds like she’s choking, and when I try to speak to her anyway, she waves me away. The smoke alarm in the kitchen starts beeping. I rush into the room to find the hollandaise sauce I was making to go over the poached eggs and smoked salmon I was cooking Ida for breakfast is burning. Lifting the frypan off the stovetop, I shove it in the sink and turn the tap on. The cold water hitting the hot pan creates even more smoke which I try to wave away with a tea towel.

So much for surprising her with breakfast.

“Hey,” Ida comes into the kitchen and sits on one of the stools at the counter. “I’m sorry about all that. Mornings aren’t my forte.”

With a smile on my face, I check her out. Her dressing gown is on properly and her face is shiny like she’s just washed it. If I didn’t think it would scare her off, I take her in my arms and kiss the life out of her for facing me without makeup. No other woman I know would be brave enough to do that.

“I’m guessing that dressing gowns and handbags are on your list of nemesis, as well?” I tease. If she’s willing to play it off with humour, then I’m happy to take her lead.

Ida laughs, then uses the footstep on her stool to give her the height she needs to lean over the counter and snare a piece of the salmon from a plate. The sauce is ruined so I decide to cut my loses and go with what I have. Adding some cutlery to the plate, I slide it closer to her.

“I was planning on making hollandaise sauce, but I burnt it while I was distracted.” I scoop up a forkful of eggs and chew on them.

Ida swallows her mouthful, then speaks. “My ass wasn’t that bad, was it? I mean, as distractions go.”

The egg goes down the wrong way. I try to cough it up, unsuccessfully. A hacking sound fills the kitchen as I start to choke. Ida rushes around the counter until she’s standing behind me and starts pounding me between the shoulder blades. It doesn’t really help, although I do manage to swallow my food properly and regain my breath.

“You can stop now,” I tell Ida when I can speak again. She’s still behind me, diligently pounding my back. “I’m okay.”

She pulls her hand away like I’m on fire and she’s just been burnt. I feel the loss of her like a missing limb, so I turn to face her, determined to not let her get away like I did last night. The previous evening, I was off my game. I feared my father’s reach. I was worried that she’d be scared off if she knew the truth. I’d let everything get the better of me and that had culminated in me letting Ida leave the restaurant without a fight.

This morning, I’m equipped with a plan. And it revolves around making Ida as comfortable with me as I can.

Starting now.

“Can I kiss you?” I wrap my arms around Ida’s body and link my fingers at her back. My hold is loose, but deliberately so. She needs to come to me willingly.

Ida trails her fingers up my cotton-covered chest, then along the sides of my bare neck. The tender touch leaves goose bumps in its wake, the hair on the back of my neck standing to attention when she holds me tight and lowers my mouth to hers.

Our tongues tangle in a duelling dance. Ida tugs me closer until I’m forced to hold her just as tight, pressing our lower bodies closer together. I can feel the shape of her through the thin satin of her dressing gown. Her body heat burns against me and it takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to lift her onto the counter, pull her nightgown out of the way, and thrust into the main source of her heat.

“Felix,” Ida whispers against my lips. She’s almost glowing from our kiss. It sets my heart racing in my chest. If this is what I can do to her with a kiss, I can’t wait to see her face after we make love.

“We need to talk,” Ida tries to get my attention once more.

I’m too lost in my thoughts of branding her with my cock, so her plea doesn’t register straightaway.

“Felix,” she says my name again, louder this time.

“Ida,” I reply, pulling my mouth from hers. “Ida. Ida. Ida.”

The passion that lit up her face is slowly fading, and I can see reality setting in. “What are we going to do about the contract? I couldn’t bring myself to sign it last night. It was stupid, but Marta made me see sense and I’m willing to sign anything you need now. I want to spend this year with you, in any way I can.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the contract no longer exists. My time in this country is yours, for however long you’ll have me.”

The smile she gives me could light up an entire suburb. It makes my stomach turn in knots and sets off a maelstrom of fluttering in my chest. I’m a goner for this woman—three encounters and two kisses later and I’m trying to work out how to fit her into my normal life.

I don’t know if a year is going to be enough.

“I’m glad I don’t have to sign the contract,” Ida says, with utmost seriousness. I feel my heart fall into my shoes at her next statement. “Don’t get me wrong, I would have signed it, but it made me feel like I was cheapening what I felt yesterday.”

Contentment radiates from her. She wraps her arms around my neck and lays her head on my shoulder. With her face buried in the crook of my neck, Ida’s hot breath tickles when she drives the final nail into my coffin. “Now, we can see where this goes with honesty and pure intentions as a solid base to grow from instead of cold, hard cash. No contract in the world can replace this feeling.”

I know it’s a mistake as I say it, yet I don’t even try to stop myself. “No more contract, Ida. Nothing but honesty from now on.”

The sick churning that invades my gut is my penance for lying. If I was half the man she thinks I am, I’d stop her now and explain that her signature wasn’t required last night because she’d already signed her part of the agreement in the Infidelity offices earlier that day. It’s unfortunate for Ida that I am not as honourable as she thinks. No, I’m a scared little caricature of a man. A pussy who’s afraid of losing the first woman to make my heart skip a beat before I really even have her. A coward who’d rather lie my ass off and hope like hell that it never comes back to bite me.

My phone buzzes where it sits on the counter next to my unfinished breakfast. The screen shows that I have an email from a Harry Marshall stating that I’m the successful applicant for the research assistant position. It takes me a second to work out what it means, but when I do it brings a smile to my face.

I’m successfully employed for the year—and if that isn’t a giant thumbs up from the universe as it declares it’s compliance with my plan to keep Ida in the dark about my identity and the existence of the contract, then I don’t know what is.

Maybe Ida is right, and my pure intentions and honesty going forth will be rewarded with a relationship I never thought possible?