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Buku Winded by Emma Shelford

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Jual Buku
Winded by Emma Shelford

Author:Emma Shelford [Shelford, Emma]

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 9781544924090

Publisher: Kinglet Books

Published: 2017-05-29T23:00:00+00:00

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Winded by Emma Shelford

CHAPTER XV

It’s ten o’clock by the time Anna’s movements on the bed jostle me awake. There’s something that is supposed to happen this morning—what is it? I don’t teach until later.

“Morning,” Anna spies my open eyes. “At least, I think it’s still morning. I hope you have something good for breakfast. I’m starving.”

 

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Winded by Emma Shelford

 

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Literature & Fiction

Winded by Emma Shelford

Author:Emma Shelford [Shelford, Emma] , Date: June 11, 2019

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Author:Emma Shelford [Shelford, Emma]

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 9781544924090

Publisher: Kinglet Books

Published: 2017-05-29T23:00:00+00:00
CHAPTER XV

It’s ten o’clock by the time Anna’s movements on the bed jostle me awake. There’s something that is supposed to happen this morning—what is it? I don’t teach until later.

“Morning,” Anna spies my open eyes. “At least, I think it’s still morning. I hope you have something good for breakfast. I’m starving.”

Oh, well. It can’t be that important if I can’t remember it.

“I’m sure we can find something. Would pancakes satisfy?”

She runs her hand down my arm, then sits up.

“Sounds perfect.” She saunters over to my closet and rifles through my shirts. A white dress shirt evidently passes muster, because she slides it off the hanger, slips her arms into the sleeves, and carefully fastens two well-placed buttons. The shirt tail only just covers her bottom. I hide a smile. Everything Anna does is so artful, perfectly calculated yet with an air of nonchalance. Choosing the revealing shirt is especially amusing, since the housecoat I gave her last night is directly at her feet.

Anna disappears into the bathroom while I pull on jeans and pad to the kitchen. That humming from last night is still here, too low to truly be heard, and yet there it is. I frown.

“Anna? Can you hear that humming? It’s still going.”

She peeks out and listens with a tilted head.

“No, you’re imagining things. How are the pancakes coming?”

She smiles sweetly at me when I raise an eyebrow, and shuts the door. Strange—I wonder where the hum is coming from. It’s getting on my nerves.

Back in the kitchen, I gather ingredients. Flour, salt, sugar, baking powder—I love the chemical simplicity of this item—crack an egg, glug of milk, liberal slab of butter. I pause for a moment to appreciate the grocery store, where all these ingredients are pre-processed, with no work on my part. I’ve tried my hand at churning butter, and it’s a tedious task.

Anna emerges when the first of the batter lands on the frying pan with a sizzle.

“Mmm, I can’t wait.”

“Syrup or honey?” I hold up a jug of maple syrup in one hand and a ceramic pot of honey in the other, the honey pot covered in sticky drips from frequent use. I enjoy maple syrup, the national pride of my current home country, but honey has always been my first and most beloved sweet.

“Syrup,” Anna replies promptly, as expected. When I put the containers down on the counter, my index finger smears a thick blob of honey. I’d been trying to avoid that.

“Damn.” I show Anna the sticky digit. “I really need to wipe that down.”

“Here.” She grabs my hand and brings it to her mouth. Her tongue reaches out as her mouth opens to receive my finger. I have no objection, and I’m intrigued enough that I ignore the banging noise from one of my neighbors. We draw closer and her lips close around my finger while her tongue continues to lick the honey. I like where this is going.

“Oh! Sorry, oh—uh—” A voice from the hallway sputters. Anna and I turn to face the voice and my finger slides out of her mouth.

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