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“Why, what are we going to do?” she asks as she puts the bottle of wine back.
I dry my hands off and go into the bedroom. “Wait here.”
I reach into the closet at the very top, high out of Elena’s reach, and I bring down my other set of knives.
I walk back to the kitchen. “How would you like to learn to sharpen a knife properly? I can teach you.”
Elena tilts her head. “Interesting. I could get behind that idea.”
“Come sit at the island with me.” I unroll the canvas and show her my other knife collection. “I’ve washed my main set. I’ll sharpen those while you sharpen these.”
“With a sharpening stone, right?” she asks. “I normally use one of those countertop things that you can sharpen your knives on.”
“Please don’t insult me,” I chuckle. I get my knives from the sink and bring them over.
I start by sitting opposite her on the bar stool. I pick up one of my knives and the black stone and slowly run the blade along it. “You want to sharpen the edge, so don’t make it go flat.”
I watch as she tries. “Don’t cut yourself,” I warn her.
She tries again.
“Here, let me show you.” I stand behind her and wrap my arms around her. I’m distinctly aware of our bodies touching. I wrap my hands around hers and guide her slowly.
Chapter 14 - Elena
I catch my breath as he holds me from behind. He doesn’t go straight to my hands but runs his hands down my arms, and then he swallows my hands with his.
“You need to do it with purpose, but be careful not to hurt yourself,” he murmurs in my ear.
He holds my hand up with the whetstone. “You want to keep it at an angle.” His voice is so soft; I can’t help but lean slightly back against him.
He takes my hand, holding the knife, and tilts it at an angle as he slides it along the stone. “Be careful you don’t cut your fingertips.”
“This isn’t how I know to sharpen a knife,” I say quietly.
“This is more fun,” he chuckles. I actually think he’s a little crazy, and it’s sexy.
He does another stroke, holding my hands tightly. There’s a tightness in my chest as he presses against me from behind. I can feel every inch of him.
He rests his head against mine and inhales before he turns back to the knife. “You try,” he says.
He lets me go.
I move the knife at the angle he showed me.
“Good,” he says, standing in front of me. “Good. And again.”
I continue to move the knife and grip it more firmly, suddenly realizing that I have a weapon.
I put the whetstone down with a thud, and he looks at me as I point the knife at him. “I’m getting out of here, Arseny. If you try and stop me, I’m going to stab you.”
He regards me for a moment as though determining whether he believes I can do it or not.
Then, he does the most unexpected thing and steps forward toward the blade. I don’t move, and it pokes his stomach. My hand trembles slightly.
“Do it.” He smiles, and there’s a darkness behind his eyes. “You think you’d be the first to cut me.”
“I mean it, Arseny. Let me go.” I try to sound confident.
