Page 61 of A Heart So Savage

She couldn’t say for certain why she’d stolen the item. In retrospect, the misguided idea of protecting herself seemed incredibly foolish. But how could she explain that to the man sitting beside her? Would he believe she had no intention of using a weapon against him? Or would he punish her for what she’d done?

Would it be so terrible if he did?

“Eat your pancakes now, Ava.”

The sternness of his voice jerked her back to awareness. Robotically, she cut into the pancakes and ate a forkful. It melted in her mouth, sweet and buttery, but in all honesty, she barely tasted them. Dread that he would discover her rebellious act turned the food into a tasteless lump of cardboard.

“It’s really good,” she said in a small voice.

Kingston’s mouth twitched with a smile. “Vanilla is the secret. And a bit of cinnamon.”

She took a sip of coffee. “That’s not much of a secret. My mom made them the same way.”

His shoulders rose in a shrug. “I always thought it was a trick no one else knew about. Rebecca never let on, either. Doesn’t make them any less delicious, though.”

Ava continued eating as silence stretched between them. The sight of Kingston’s chiseled jaw working silently as he chewed the pancakes did things to her heart rate. Emblazoned with that fierce lion tattoo, his bare chest revealed itself in little peeks each time his robe fell open. It made her mouth water, leaving her emotions in turmoil and her weakness something to be despised.

And the other tattoo etched across his ribs? How could she forget it?

Crush. Conquer. Protect.

He’d certainly done all that and more when it came to her.

“We’ll stay another night or two in the city and return home in a couple of days,” Kingston remarked, standing to remove both of their plates and carrying them into the kitchen. Scraping them clean into the garbage, he gave them a quick rinse before loading the dishwasher. “Would you like that, lamb?”

Home. When did that come to mean anywhere this man might be?

Anxious for something to occupy her hands, Ava carried the two coffee cups to the sink. “If that’s what you want.”

He took the mugs from her and stuck them in the dishwasher’s top rack. “I thought you might like visiting an art gallery that’s nearby. I know the owner.”

There was a note in Kingston’s voice that sounded cautiously hopeful. As if he really was trying to do something nice for her but thought his offer might be rejected.

“An art gallery?”

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Or we could go to a museum. Your choice.”

Something quivered inside Ava’s stomach. When Kingston turned his charm on full display, he was practically irresistible.

Retreating to the other side of the wide kitchen island, she watched as he continued cleaning up. Standing awkwardly beside a sleek barstool, she nibbled a fingernail until Kingston’s pointed look of disappointment reminded her that the anxiety-soothing activity was no longer allowed.

“We’ll start with the bookstore I mentioned before,” Kingston said, coming around the island and taking both of her hands in his. “I also made you an appointment at a lovely spa I think you will enjoy.”

Ava gave him a look full of suspicion. “A spa? What for?”

Kingston’s features were deceptively neutral. “I want you pampered and prepared for me.”

She sucked in a breath. “What does that even mean?”

“Waxed and whatever else those places do. I want you so smooth and bare that I can see your arousal glistening on your skin. I will lick you clean over and over until you are worn out and allow me to do anything else I want.”

Ava clenched her thighs at the image his words conjured up. Sweet lord, that’s all it took to set her aflame.

“Feel free to look around the penthouse while I take a quick shower. Apart from my office, there is nothing here that is off limits to you,” Kingston casually remarked as he let her go. Heading down the hallway, he thew a vague warning over his shoulder. “Do not attempt using the elevator without my assistance, Ava. The alarm is always set as a precaution when I’m here.”

Ava waited until the door to the bedroom snicked close before grabbing the purse she had selected earlier. Perched on the edge of the sofa, she quickly transferred the items from the elegant evening clutch to the much roomier designer purse. The fork settled nicely at the bottom of it.

Her gaze darted around the penthouse. It was so sleek. So modern. Completely different from the gothic, castle-like feel of The Den. With a shiver, Ava wrapped her arms around her body. Without Kingston’s presence, it also felt cold and impersonal. It was a place used strictly for life and death decisions. Deals where money exchanged hands and contracts were signed in ink and blood.

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