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“Hmm?” My eyes fluttered closed as his hand slid into my hair, cradling my suddenly heavy head.
“Stay with me, love. Ya need to eat.”
I nodded and felt something rough slide along the length of my bottom lip.
“Open up, angel.”
I did as he’d said and immediately felt a flaky pastry come to rest on the tip of my tongue. Closing my mouth around Damien’s fingertips, I tasted the salt of his skin, mixed with the sweet, buttery richness of a chocolate croissant. I hummed appreciatively as I chewed—eyes closed, arms slack—feeling an immediate rush as the sugar hit my bloodstream. Cracking one eye open, I reached up and plucked the rest of the croissant out of Damien’s grasp before he could react.
With another soft chuckle—my new favorite sound—he leaned forward, still cradling my head, and placed his lips next to my ear. “You’re lucky they have more of those.”
Taking a huge bite from the end of the pastry, I turned my head so that our cheeks nearly touched and whispered back, my mouth full of heaven, “Why? Would you fight me for it?”
I was only teasing, but the question sent an icy shiver down my spine, as did Damien’s sudden seriousness as he slid his hand out of my hair and leveled me with that cold gray stare.
“No. I would do this.”
That was the only warning I got before he reached for my side in a flash of movement. My hands shot out to protect my tender ribs as I doubled over with a squeal.
“Don’t!” I cackled, the mere threat of being tickled sending me into hysterics, which only made my bruises hurt worse. “You can have it! I surrender!”
“I accept.” Damien smirked as he plucked the croissant out of my hand and took a bite.
Then, he closed his eyes and moaned quietly, causing me to change my mind. That was my new favorite sound.
CHAPTER 22
DAMIEN
As I stood between Clover’s spread legs—clutching her smooth thigh in one hand and a stale pastry in the other—two very different hungers were tearing me apart. I needed food, as much as I could get. My stomach twisted in pain as I swallowed the bite I’d just taken, demanding more, filling me with a sense of urgency. But seeing Clover relaxed and happy, feeling her long auburn hair brush across my bare chest as she leaned forward in laughter, watching my blazer slide off her freckled shoulder as she sat back up, staring at my chewing mouth with hooded eyes—that filled me with a need that was far more ravenous.
Holding the last bite of croissant to her smiling mouth, I held my breath as Clover’s lips parted and wrapped around my fingertips. Her eyes closed as she pulled away, taking the bread with her, which caused both my stomach and my fully hard cock to ache at the loss.
I wanted nothing more than to shove my hand back into her hair, taste the chocolate on her tongue, and slide her hips to the edge of the display case so that we could pick up where we’d left off in Howth … without an audience. I could still feel her, on a very different counter, dripping wet and bucking against me. My cock was still coated with the proof of her arousal. But what had happened before and after that moment … I had no idea how she was even functioning. I’d seen the impression her body had left in the field, legs spread, just like this.
Fuck.
I stepped away from her and wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my trousers, pretending to peruse the baked goods in the case as I took a few much-needed breaths.
“Ya know what?” I mused, keeping my gaze locked on the assorted sweets between her dangling feet. “I think ya are gonna have to fight me for the rest of these croissants.”
Clo giggled and pretended to kick me before hopping down off the display case, and I politely stumbled backward, as if I’d been struck.
But really, I just needed the space.
Sitting on the floor—her on her knees, digging things out of the display case, and me a safe distance away with my back against a cabinet—we ate for what felt like hours.
“Oh my God, these banana nut muffins …”
“Cheesecake?! When was the last time you had cheesecake?”
“This blueberry scone might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“I was wrong. This apple tart …” She moaned deep in her throat. “God, what is that? Cinnamon? Cardamom?”
I had no idea if the food was good or not. I ate everything she handed me, but all of my awareness was focused on watching Clover enjoy herself. Hearing her soft moans of pleasure. Memorizing the way she wiggled and danced when she found something she liked. It was a torture far more delicious than anything in that case. But even in the presence of pure joy, the darkness caught up with me.
It always did.
