The Tycoon's Toddler Surprise (15 page)

Mikhail watched as Kristen tossed a hand towel over her shoulder and zipped to the pantry, then to the kitchen table that was completely covered in various ingredients, none of which made any sense.  As he leaned against the entry way to the kitchen, he watched and took it all in.   He couldn’t understand her organization, but apparently it was all very well thought out. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I’m making a cake for Victoria’s preschool fundraiser tomorrow night,” she explained, sighing as she looked around for a place to put the bowl filled with batter.

“We were just at the grocery store a few hours ago.”

She shoved several
ingredients
to the center of the kitchen table, careful that they wouldn’t spill and create more work for her, then set the large
stainless steel
bowl down in the newly cleared space.  “I know that.  What’s your point?”

He watched in amazement as she took two round pans out from a drawer under her stove and sprayed something on them.  “My point is…” he emphasized, “why didn’t you just buy a cake at the grocery store?  Or at one of the bakeries we passed by all day while we were our running all over the place?”

Kristen shook her head.  “We can’t bring a store bought cake to a cake walk.”

He stood there for another long moment, then shook his head.  “Okay, I give up.  Why can’t we buy a cake for a cake walk?   And just as a point of reference, what the hell is a cake walk?”

Kristen had to laugh at his confounded expression.  He actually looked cute as he stood in her sunny kitchen, completely confused by domestic tasks.  Since he’d done so well all day long, she took pity on him and didn’t tease him about his lack of knowledge, although she tucked the little piece of information away that he hadn’t grown up with fund raisers.  “A cake walk is a way for the school to make money.  Everyone brings in a cake, decorated in different ways.  People buy tickets and….it’s sort of like musical chairs except you land on a cake instead of a chair.”

He considered her comments as she poured the batter into the two pans, scraping the sides with a plastic spatula.  She then handed him the bowl and spatula and turned to put the pans into the oven.  “What do I do with this?  And what’s musical chairs?”

She froze and turned around, astonished that he didn’t know what to do with a bowl of cake batter or what
the game of
musical chairs was.  As she looked at him, that vulnerable look was
shadowing
his handsome features and her mind frantically went through all the possibilities. 

She turned to set the timer, then walked over to stand in front of him.  “You never made a cake with your mother, did you?” she asked softly. 

“No.” 

Kristen took her finger and scooped up a small bit of batter, then lifted it to his mouth. 

He knew exactly what to do with that and Kristen realized she’d made a
tactical
error in trying to show him a rite of passage for every child.  He didn’t hesitate with her offering. 

Kristen gasped as his warm mouth closed over her finger, his tongue flicking across the end, making her insides melt into liquid heat.  “Oh,” she said, thinking she should step back but her feet wouldn’t move.  He didn’t let up on her finger either.  He put the bowl on the table behind her and took her other hand, dipping her finger into the another section of remaining batter, then doing the same thing to that finger. 

Kristen’s knees were weak and her body throbbed as his tongue twirled around her finger. 

“We can’t…” she started to say but he stopped her by covering her mouth with his.  Gone was the cake batter but the fire continued to heat as his tongue teased hers, compelling her mouth to open under his just so she could participate and eagerly give back the torment he was
bestowing
on her. 

Within seconds, the cake was forgotten and her arms were wrapped around his, her body pressed against him as she tried hard to meld her soft body into his hard one.  He didn’t hesitate.  His hands dove under her sweater, finding her skin and making her hotter.  Within moments, her sweater was yanked over her head and he had her pressed back against the wall as he explored her neck with his mouth and her breasts with his hands. 

Kristen closed her eyes in an effort to gain some control but as his hands closed over her breast
s
, pushing the cotton cup of her bra away, she stopped thinking and moaned as she realized that she’d missed this more than she’d been willing to admit.  No one had ever made her this crazy, she remembered. 

S
he didn’t even care that they were standing in her kitchen.  All that mattered were his hands and his mouth, and his body which was pushing her backwards. 

Her own hands pulled his shirt out from the waistband of his slacks, her fingers plunging unde
rneath to discover hard, muscled
planes and hot skin.  She barely gasped when he lifted her up and pushed her onto the kitchen counter but loved it when he slid between her legs, his hands pulling her hips forward so she was flush with his hardening body. 

“I want you!” he growled in her ear and bit her earlobe.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered when his hand moved up to cup her breast.  She leaned forward, pressing herself harder against his hand.  When he unsnapped her jeans and pushed them down her legs, she sighed with happiness now that her body was getting what it had wanted so desperately since the previous weekend.  A small part of her mind was shocked that she was in her kitchen naked, but she couldn’t stop to worry about it, the need so desperate to find fulfillness with Mikhail’s body that everything else was pushed to the side. 

She felt him fumbling with his own jeans but when he pushed her back and plunged into her, she leaned her head back against the cabinets and groaned at how perfectly he filled her up. 

“You feel so good,” he said and pulled her forward to the edge of the counter, his hands gripping her hips as he moved inside of her. 

Kristen bit her lip, trying hard not to cry out as she almost instantly climaxed, her body so primed for him that she couldn’t hold back.  As he plunged deeper inside her, his own body screaming for release, she held onto his shoulders as her orgasm swamped her.  And when he found his own release, she smothered her laughter in his neck, joy surrounding her as their bodies slowed down slightly. 

“I’m going to have to make cakes more often,” she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder, loving the way she felt as well as heard his deep, rumbling laughter in response. 

“Come with me,” he said and picked her up, not giving her a choice in the matter as he carried her into her bedroom.  With the door closed, he proceeded to start the whole process over again, enjoying discovering her body once again as she learned more about his after so many years of absence. 

A long time later,
Kristen raised her head and looked around.  “
Tory
!” she gasped and jumped out of the bed.  Racing into the shower, she turned on the water, shivering when only cold water spewed from her ancient pipes.  She dove under the water anyway and soaped up her body, trying to get the scent of sex and sweat off since she knew that Victoria would be running into the bedroom any moment now. 

Mikhail walked into the bathroom, unashamed of his naked body that was already ready to repeat the process once again.  “What’s the rush?” he asked and kissed her on her shoulder as she stepped out of the shower. 

“Victoria will be running in here in a moment once she completely wakes up from her nap.  I don’t want her to see us like this.”

“She’s going to have to get used to not being able to run into our room, Kristen.”

She shook her head as she pulled on clothes frantically, tossing his to him as she passed by.  “Where’s my sweater?” she asked, looking
in her drawer for a fresh pair of jeans, not bothering to find the others since she suddenly remembered they were in the kitchen. 
“And no, we’re not repeating this scene.”

He swung her up into his arms and she landed
against him
with a thud.  “We will be repeating this, Kristen.  You’re my wife!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” she said, trying to push away from
him
. “We don’t know each other.  We need to understand each other before we dive back into a relationship.”

“We’re already in a relationship.  And you do know me.  Didn’t we just prove how well we know each other?”

“There’s the biblical sense of knowing someone,” she said as she slipped out o
f his arms and pulled on a clean
sweater, “and then there’s really knowing and understanding each other.  I want to know the man I’m married to.  I don’t know you.”

“You’re not marrying anyone else, Kristen.  I won’t let you go.”

She stopped as she was just about to pull her hair up into a pony tail.  “Then let me get to know you.  The real you.  The one you won’t let anyone else see.  Tell me about your past.  About the reasons you’re so secretive.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“I used to think so.  But the fact that you let me go so easily, and lots of other little things I’m just starting to realize about you, means that I never really knew you.”

“I thought you’d left me.”

She put her hands on his chest and stopped, looking up at him and wondering if she dared to ask the question that had been burning in her mind for hours.  “Did your mother abandon you when you were younger?”

He looked down at her for a long moment, considering how to answer her.  Finally, he shook his head. “My mother isn’t relevant.”

Kristen sighed as he walked away.  He closed the door to the bathroom and a moment later, she heard the water start up.  She finished putting her hair up, then slipped on thick socks and padded out of her bedroom.  Victoria was already awake and standing in the kitchen, holding Kristen’s sweater. 

“Momma, why are you wearing a different sweater now?” she asked, her intelligent eyes sweeping across her mother’s appearance.

“The other one was itchy,”
Kristen
replied, hiding her face in the oven window as she pretended to check on her cakes. 

“Why was it on the floor?  You’re always telling me not to leave
things
on the floor,” she said.

Kristen couldn’t come up with a reply quickly enough.  “What do you want for a snack?” she asked.

Victoria dropped the sweater exactly where she’d found it and climbed up into her chair.  “Fruit Loops,” she said with excitement. 

Kristen walked over to the pantry and got down a box of whole grain cereal and poured out some into a bowl.  “How’s that?” she asked and smothered a chuckle at her daughter’s scrunched up nose. 

Chapter
8

Monday morning, Kristen rushed through the kitchen, grabbing snacks and lunch bags, briefcase and purse, stuffing items into Victoria’s day care bag and others into her own, hoping she was correct in which lunch was her own and which was Victoria’s.  She’d gotten them mixed up often enough and Kristen really hated eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch with a bag of carrots and box of raisins. 
“Come on, Tory.  We’re going to be late.”

Victoria shuffled out the door, her face sad and drawn.  “Where’s daddy?” she asked as Kristen turned to lock the door, her lunch bag dragging on the sidewalk. 

“He’s already at work, honey.  He’ll be home for dinner tonight.”

“But why wasn’t he here for breakfast?  All other daddy’s are home for breakfast.”

Kristen sighed and bent down, forgetting about the
ir
hectic schedule
for a moment in order to deal with her daughter’s confusion and sadness
.  “You’re daddy will be home for some breakfasts, sweety.  And other mornings, he’ll have to go into work early.  Just like in the evenings, he might not always be home for dinner.”

“But you’re always home for dinner,” she argued with childlike logic.

“Yes, but that’s because my job isn’t as demanding as his.”

She considered that for a moment.  “What about if he found a new job?”

Kristen tried not to laugh because she could tell that Tory was extremely torn up about this situation.  “Your daddy can’t find a new job.  He’s the boss.”

“Even bosses can quit, can’t they?”

“Not if they own the company.”

“Can’t he sell it?”

Kristen shook her head.  “That’s not really who he is, honey.  He likes making business deals and creating lots of jobs for people.  It’s the way his mind works.”

“He can change the way he thinks.  You’re always telling me to think differently if something isn’t going my way.”

“Yes.  And how easy is it for you to change?  Remember Bobby Benson last week?  He hurt your feelings and you punched him in the arm.”

She nodded and looked down at the ground with resignation. 
“I got in trouble for that.”

“Yes, you did.  And then two days later, you punched Rebecca.”

Victoria sighed.  “I got in trouble again.”