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“Morning.” Her voice was all croaky as she ran a hand through her hair. I stared at her, my throat too dry to speak. She grinned and plopped into a chair at the kitchen table, but I still didn’t have any words.
I growled and turned away, busied myself with plating our breakfast. My brain was too jumbled. She had to be a hunter.
She couldn’t be a hunter.
But if she wasn’t, why was I so flustered?
I needed her out of my house so I could think. That’s the only reason I was going to let her go. I had to figure this out first. Gather myself and get the plan straight in my head. If I held her captive, she would beg me to let her go, and I was so soft for her, I would. Then she’d be gone forever.
I couldn’t let that happen.
When I slid the plate of bacon, eggs and potatoes in front of her, she hummed the most delicious sound. I imagined her lips around my cock again. “My favorite,” she breathed quietly.
I couldn’t even look at her. “Good. Eat.” I sat across from her and picked at my fried potatoes as I watched her annihilate her breakfast like she’d never eaten before.
The silence between us bubbled and grew into a snarling beast. I ignored that, focused on the clinking of utensils on plates, the clock ticking in the corner, the birds chirping outside the window. “Is everything okay?” Her voice was small and accompanied by little wisps of fear. They were delicious, like smears of ice cream off a gorgeous woman’s cheek.
“Perfect, monstre.” I grunted and shoved more potatoes in my mouth.
She slipped another forkful of food between those perfect lips, and I just wanted to shove my cock in with them, but I held my fork tight and counted every microsecond.
“I don’t know why, but I’m starving,” she said.
Hunched over my plate, trying desperately to keep seated, I peered up at her and smirked. “I wrung out every last drop of energy from your body last night.”
Her face and neck flushed red, but she pretended not to be affected and took another bite of eggs and potatoes. “Yeah...”
“I’m gonna do it again.”
“I do have to go to work, you know,” she reminded me.
I nodded and pointed at her plate with my fork. “Better hurry the fuck up then.”
A burst of fear from her teased me hard again, but it worked. She wolfed down the remainder of her breakfast. Then I found some clothes in the back of my closet that seemed like they’d fit her and hoped she wouldn’t ask where they came from. I helped her get into my shower unmolested, an exercise in self-restraint if there ever was one.
When she finally stood by the door, I seized her by the hips and kissed her like I wasn’t going to let her go. I thought about it for a minute, too. Shoving her back against the door, my tongue teased hers, and she let out these breathy little moans; I thought about phasing us back to bed and tying her up again.
But somehow, instead, I opened the door and pushed her out. She smiled at me, probably thinking I was being romantic. But she had no idea how close she was to losing her freedom again.
She would sooner or later anyway.
When she finally pulled free and sauntered away down the street, hips swaying like the queen she was, I slammed the door, banged my forehead against the hardwood, and let out a deep sigh.
“Fuck. Me.”
Chapter Forty-Eight: Ink and Magic
Tess
When I got tothe shop, I still felt dazed from the date with Maverick. My body ached with a jumble of soreness and the lingering warmth from our time together. Every muscle felt like it had been both worked to exhaustion and wrapped in a comforting embrace. My mind was a whirl of trepidation and elation, a storm of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. I wanted to hide from him, but I wanted him to find me.
As I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, the familiar essence of the place greeted me, grounding me in the reality of my normal daily routine. The soft jingle of the bellabove the door seemed to ring unusually loud in the quiet morning, a sharp contrast to the cascade of sensory explosions the night before.
I flicked the light switch, and my first stop was the coffee pot— always a non-negotiable throughout countless groggy mornings. Maverick had given me coffee earlier, but it was just a standard brew, and I needed extra bold strength to jolt me into full alertness.
“How was your date?” asked Oscar.
I reached for the tin of coffee grounds, the rich, earthy aroma wafting up as I opened it. “It was… weird.” Scooping a generous amount into the filter, I started the brewing process, listening to the comforting gurgle as the hot water began to drip through.
