Page 45 of The Incubus's Angel
Hours pass and I lose track of time, the world outside of my cottage disappearing until my stomach finally grumbles loudlyenough for me to take notice. When I open my shutters, it’s dark outside.
Rolling my desk chair back, I stare at the screens with satisfaction. A bubbling sensation starts up in my chest, my body vibrating with excitement at my idea and what it could mean for Maisie, for us.
I want to see her. Now.
A quick shower and change of clothes later, I’m heading across the island, my path illuminated only by the full moon and bright stars overhead as I march toward my Maisie.
All the shops are closed, the darkened buildings standing like stone sentinels against the hill, except for The Flowering Teapot where the tiny glow from the kitchen light is barely visible through the café’s front windows. Like a moth to a flame knowing my angel is there, I lengthen my strides to reach her.
I can’t see Maisie from this angle, but at my soft knock on the door, she peeks out from the back with a radiant grin lighting up her face when she spots me. My own face breaks into a brilliant smile, my cheeks bunching with action, and then I’m pushing through the door and aiming directly for Maisie.
“Ren!” She runs toward me and I sweep her off her feet and up into my arms, my lips finding hers with the desperation of one who’s found water in the desert.
“This is a nice surprise,” Maisie says against my lips before going back for another kiss.
I only part from her for long enough to utter, “Couldn’t.” Kiss.
“Stay.” Kiss.
“Away.” Kiss.
“Missed you.” Kiss.
“Too much. Kiss.
Maisie giggles into my neck and the sound flutters right through my skin, my bones, before embedding itself in my soul.
Fuck, I love her so much.
I love Maisie.
She’s joy and peace, light and… perfection. I’m ready to surrender myself to her, to let her in fully and see all of me, and hope she can love me in return.
Unaware of the massive epiphany I’ve finally allowed myself to have, Maisie takes my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen.
Where she leads, I’ll happily follow any day.
Depositing me in a chair at the kitchen table, Maisie says, “I just finished the crumb coat on my practice cake, so I was going to make myself something to eat while it chills. Have you had dinner yet?”
My stomach rumbles at the thought of food, and I shake my head as I pull her between my legs. “Not yet.”
Maisie pouts adorably and wraps her arms around my neck. “We still have some pies left. Can I get you one? Two?”
“One’s good. You pick the flavor.” While Maisie heats up our pies, I ask, “What’s a crumb coat?”
“It’s the prefrosting frosting,” she throws over her shoulder.
“Come again?”
“Gladly,” Maisie quips with a wink.
A snicker of laughter escapes me as she lowers herself into the seat next to me.
I dig into my pie while she explains the actual meaning, “A crumb coat is a layer to smooth out the surface of the cake before applying the actual frosting that everyone will see.”
“That sounds complicated,” I say, one hand lightly caressing her thigh.
“A good quality cake at the level I’m aiming for has a lot of steps to give it a professional look,” she explains around a bite.
