Page 46 of Soul Of A Villain

He wanted to be the reason for her joy, which was both terrifying and infuriating.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Londyn

Londyn sensedOliver standing behind her long before he made his presence known.

This connection she felt with her captor was awful. She hated how her skin prickled when his spicy cologne drifted to her nostrils. She despised the tightening of her sensitive nipples and the lighting sharp tingle between her thighs as the atmosphere in the kitchen grew heavy. Maintaining her composure while smiling at his housekeeper as if nothing was wrong was an exercise in hiding her emotions. How she stood there, exchanging pleasantries as if she were a temporary guest here by choice, she could not explain. Pretending she was not affected by the memory of this man rutting over her was impossible.

Although she’d yet to look in his direction, the weight of his stare could not be ignored. Tiny tremors of apprehension rippled through her when the housekeeper finally noticed her employer.

“Good morning, Mister Winter. It’s good to see you back from your business so soon. I got here a little early today and was just introducing myself to Miss Skye. Can I make you both some breakfast before I start my duties?” Miss Miller asked, her voice cheerful and bright. She was a middle-aged woman; if Londyn hazarded a guess, she would say the housekeeper was somewhere around fifty.

Inwardly, Londyn cringed, but her chin tilted higher in a pathetic show of defiance. She regretted not returning to her bedroom the instant she realized the housekeeper was in the kitchen. She’d only come down to grab something for breakfast, then she would have isolated herself as Oliver had commanded. But seeing the woman’s open, friendly smile had her ignoring his orders.

Her gaze clashed with Oliver’s as she turned to face him.

Dear Lord. He looked like a god in that suit. All crisp and businesslike, other than a tie that seemed to be missing and the top few buttons of his black shirt undone. The dark-gray material clung to his hard body in smooth perfection, and his blue eyes were hard as steel and as cold as the deepest ocean as he regarded her. Londyn’s nerves fluttered like a million butterflies in her gut. She couldn’t gauge his reaction to the interaction between herself and the friendly housekeeper. Was he angry? Indifferent? Or did it go beyond that to murderous?

She averted her gaze from his and flashed a smile at the housekeeper. “That’s not necessary, Miss Miller. I’m fine with a piece of toast and some fruit.”

Miss Miller laughed, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s no trouble at all. Mister Winter likes my omelets, so if you are okay with that, I’ll whip up a couple for you. And I’ve already made coffee. Is that okay with you, Mister Winter?” Without waiting for an answer, the housekeeper began pulling out the necessary items and cookware to make breakfast.

“That’s fine. Thank you, Miss Miller,” Oliver murmured, stepping closer to Londyn where she stood at thekitchen island. Leaning into her space, his lips hovered around her ear as he pulled out one of the barstools for her. “Should I bend you over this counter like I did last time we were here, dove?”

He did not touch her, but he might as well have. His husky words slid over her like warm honey, and Londyn immediately blushed at the imagery of his statement. She couldn’t get a read on him. There was an edge about him, but oddly enough, she didn’t think it was related directly to her. Maybe he wouldn’t punish her for defying his orders to avoid his housekeeper. Her lips thinned at the insidious thought that perhaps it was what she secretly wanted. His large hand crashing on her bottom. Snaking between her legs. His mouth, so hard and brutal, plundering her own as he took what he wanted.

Londyn wasn’t sure she could form words with her breath hanging in her throat and her heart pounding from the path of her thoughts.

It was a blessing when Miss Miller saved her from responding. “Sit, sit! It will only take a few minutes to get everything ready. While you wait, here’s some coffee.”

Londyn carefully slid onto the barstool, gratefully accepting the steaming cup of coffee from the housekeeper. Removing his coat, Oliver did the same, his lips twitching as if he recognized the reason for her careful movements. While she blushed even more, he watched as she prepped the drink the way she liked it—more cream than sugar until it was the color of cashmere. She noticed he drank his coffee black, and her nose scrunched at the thought.

“What’s the matter?” Oliver asked, sipping from his cup. “Is it not to your liking? Or was it not enough?”

The innuendo in his tone was unmistakable. He was referring to her obvious soreness and the reasons behind it. Londyn’s attention focused on the cup she held in her hands. She didn’t want him to know her pussy still ached from the thorough fucking he’d given her two days ago. She didn’t want him to know she had slept restlessly for the last two nights, strangely ill at ease with his absence. She certainly did not want him to know she spent the long hours alone, alternately dreading and hoping for his return. “Nothing’s the matter.”

“Tell me.”

She set her cup down, cut her gaze at him, and shyly remarked, “You drink your coffee with nothing in it. It’s so bitter without sugar and cream, don’t you think?”

“Mister Winter always drinks his coffee black,” Miss Miller said cheerfully while whisking eggs and cheese in a small mixing bowl. “I was surprised he requested creamer be included with the grocery order, but then I realized he wanted it for you, Miss Skye.”

Oliver’s lips tightened with the housekeeper’s revelation. “The butter is burning in the pan, Miss Miller.”

Miss Miller waved her hand at Oliver. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it! Don’t worry. I’ll not burn your breakfast.”

Londyn fell silent, drinking her coffee while contemplating Miss Miller’s statement. She couldn’t imagine Oliver doing anything so… thoughtful. And especially not on her behalf. But there was so much about him that was a mystery. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he shattered her perception.

As they ate breakfast, the housekeeper busied herself cleaning the kitchen. Londyn was starving, and she quickly downed half her omelet while Oliver made small talk with the older woman.

Oliver smiled his thanks when the housekeeper refilled their coffee cups. “I have some items being delivered to the front gate today. I would appreciate it if you would place them in my bedroom once they arrive. I’m leaving this morning to take care of some business, but I’ll return this afternoon.”

“Of course, Mister Winter. Is there anything you would like from the store? I’m placing another order today.”

“That won’t be necessary, the house will be empty in a couple of days.”

Londyn paused—her fork midair and loaded with a bite of steaming omelet.

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