Page 118 of Manacled Hearts

I pull her away enough for her to see me properly. “That shouldn’t be a dream, Evie darling, that should be a plan. You would have Queenscove at your feet with your indulgent cakes.”

I catch the soft blush heating her cheeks as she averts her gaze for a moment.

“Thank you. But I’m not sure anyone would actually want my cakes. You see, sunshine and butterflies are not what I like to make.”

Well, now I’m intrigued. “What do you like?”

“For lack of a better term, I’d love to own a Gothic bakery. Deep gemstone colors for frostings and icing, intricate designs, anything from lace-work to anatomical hearts and skulls. Of course they can be cute, but… a different kind of cute.”

I smile, having absolutely no trouble imagining what a fantastic job she would do. I saw her cake, she might have kept it classic, but her technique looked flawless. Even for my untrained eye. “Your kind of cute,” I agree.

“I guess so.”

“How about we get back into bed, and you can tell me more about it?”

She beams then, her smile wide, her eyes filled with excitement. I have never seen this look in her gaze before. Like she finally has permission to think and dream for herself, though the limitation is self-imposed. It’s intoxicating and infuriating at the same time. She deserves the fucking world, and she deserves to live all her dreams, not avoid conjuring them.

I pull her up with me, settle ourselves in bed, and nestle her in the crook of my arm, so she can share all her dreams with me.

CHAPTER 28

FINNIGAN

I wake up to an empty bed and a sweet, aromatic scent weaving around through the penthouse, pulling a groan out of me and a growl from my stomach.

I wonder what she baked now.

We stayed up too late as we talked about her bakery dream with a dark, gothic twist, her ideas for the interior, the designs she’s been conjuring for years, the flavor combinations that intrigued even me. I was bound to wake up hungry. Though I never crave particular foods, yet now I need whatever’s cooking in my kitchen.

Rising, I head straight to the walk-in closet to grab a pair of boxers, and stumble around as I slide them up on my way to the kitchen. The scent makes my mouth water, but as Evelyn finally comes into view, it seems to turn bone dry. She’s on her bare tiptoes as she sways between the counter and the island on a rock song set on low volume, long, lean legs in full view, and I swallow a curse when my gaze is interrupted by the hem of a long T-shirt that covers her ass and everything above. She used to be concernedly skinny when we brought her to us, but now… there’s some meat on her bones, and thanks to Maddox’s help, some muscle too. She’s still skinny, but Christ, health has never looked so good on a woman.

She glides around my kitchen on the rhythm of the hard guitar strings and the flow of the wind-swept curtains of the open terrace doors, and she looks divinely at home as she pours some dark batter in a baking tin I didn’t know I had. George buys all sorts of things when he does his chef duties in my kitchen. Maybe I should actually search these cupboards to see what else I have. What else Evelyn needs, too.

I lean against the door frame, crossing my arms against my chest, and watch her. Slender, long fingers wipe the rim of the bowl as she moves further down the tray, and I suck in a groan as she sticks that very finger in her mouth, sucking slowly at it while she keeps pouring that batter. It’s not a stretch to imagine something else between those pretty pink lips of hers. She can cover my cock in whatever she wants as long as she sucks on it just like that.

Seemingly satisfied, she grabs the tray and taps it a few times against the counter, before she turns to the oven, drops the door and slides it right in. She doesn’t even notice me when she turns after closing the door, taps something on her phone, then goes back to the counter, picking up the same bowl. When she dips in again and swipes at the sides, I suck in a breath, because I know what’s about to come. That finger slides between her plump lips, but this time she closes her eyes and the softest of sighs turns my cock so rigid, it almost fucking hurts.

Raking a hand over my face I wonder how long until this woman’s going to kill me just by being her own, enticing little self. When she’s about to suck on that batter-coated finger again, some of it drips on her chest, staining the T-shirt.

Wait, that’s my T-shirt.

Just like that, she turned even hotter, if that was even a possibility.

“Oh no!” She drops the bowl and turns frantically to the sink. “Evelyn, what have you done? You klutz!” She rants at herself as she finds the sponge and attempts to clean it.

I’m behind her in fewer strides than I thought I needed, and when I grab onto the hem of the T-shirt, she jumps, yelping, but I give her no time to protest or fight. I pull it up, forcing it over her head, leaving her arms trapped in it, then I turn her around to face me, grabbing onto the sides of her head.

“Finnigan,” she says on a breathy tone that sounds more lustful than startled. “I’m sorry, I—”

But my mouth is crushing hers before she can finish the sentence, her intoxicating ginger and brown sugar scent luring me to dive between her soft lips. I’m careful not to thread my fingers through her hair as I tip her head back, holding her just where I want her, deepening the kiss. A rumble of desire shakes my chest and vibrates straight through hers, drawing a soft cry to fall from her lips, and I swallow those muffled sound-waves like they’re the life-force keeping me alive. They might as well do, because the life I used to live before her is done and dusted. Even before I felt her against me, tasted her, swallowed her moans, she tainted my existence with her energy.

There is no going back for me, I’m falling deep into her, and I fear that, once again, I’ll be abandoned with a heart I can’t put back together myself.

I shake those thoughts away because ignorance truly is bliss, and I release Evelyn so I can pull the T-shirt off of her completely, and bare her naked body to me. Reaching behind her, I turn the tap off, then dip down, and lift her to me. She yelps, but it turns into a giggle as she wraps her legs around my hips, and I walk us to the kitchen island. When her bare behind touches the cold granite, she hisses, I lock my lips onto the crook of her neck, sucking softly at the skin there, and it melts into a feverish cry. Her head falls back, arms settling behind her as she props herself up, and I lick my way down to her breasts, circling one nipple with my tongue, and rewarding it with a soft bite when it hardens to a peak.

Back arching, she pushes her breast against my mouth demanding more attention, and I move to the other one, refusing to leave it waiting for too long. When she moans and sinks her fingers into my hair, all but forcing me where she wants me, I know I’m going to have my hands full. Evelyn might have been a virgin last night, but the way she demands pleasure without speaking a word tells me that she’s a greedy little slut in the making, one who has far too many unfulfilled desires that have been piling on for long enough.

But this is my feast, not hers, and I decide what I devour.

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