Chapter 13 The Kitchen Table
The Kitchen Table
Brok&Hazel
“So what you’re telling me… Barnaby is the Easter Bunny. And you’re his personal trainer. And my friend Vixen is… Barnaby’s nemesis. This… Reynard, in disguise.”
I nodded, barely managing to suppress a flinch. Everything inside me screamed this was never supposed to happen. But now that the glamor had fallen, we really had no choice but to explain. We owed Hazel that much.
Barnaby wrung his paws, shaking. For once, he seemed to have completely forgotten about sweets. “We’re sorry, Hazel. This is the way things have always been. Between our two worlds. We didn’t mean to lie.”
“You absolutely did mean it.” Hazel shot us both an unimpressed look. “But it’s all right. I understand.”
Relief crashed through me. It was more than I’d ever thought I could get. More than I’d expected. More important than Hazel herself perhaps realized.
Barnaby let out a shaky exhalation that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. “Thank you. Thank you for being so nice.”
Hazel reached out and patted his fuzzy head gently. The tender gesture made something in my chest tighten. She had every right to rage at us for the deception, to throw us out of her shop and her life. Instead, she offered comfort to the trembling magical rabbit who’d torn her world asunder.
Gods help me, I love her.
Barnaby’s ears twitched. He glanced between us, then pulled away from Hazel. “I should… I think I need some air. Clear my head before tomorrow.”
The rabbit had always been kinder and more perceptive than he looked. But I supposed that came with being a Top Five magical entity. After all, it was his heart, not his speed, that had once helped him beat Reynard.
He padded toward the door and waved at us awkwardly. “I’ll see you later, Brok, Hazel. And thanks again.”
And then he was out of the shop, leaving Hazel and me alone together.
At first, I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t help but take in her beautiful form with greed.
The dress hugged every curve of her body, and her bright red curls were slightly mussed from the evening’s chaos.
A slight smudge of carob marred her cheek, mingling with her ruined makeup.
It just made her more beautiful. More real.
I’d missed her so much it hurt, and now she knew what I was.
“Are you scared of me now?” I asked her. It certainly seemed like it, since she’d used her prized creation as a weapon against me.
Hazel scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re still the meathead who came into my shop and started roaring about the terrors of sugar.”
“I never roared.” I tried to defend myself. Like a liar.
“You absolutely did.” The corner of her mouth curved up in a sweet smile. “You stood there in your too-tight workout shirt and lectured me about the evils of sweets like you were delivering a sermon.”
“Your chocolate truffles were sabotaging my client’s progress.”
“My chocolate truffles are works of art.” She moved closer, her earlier panic now completely gone. “And your brother is actually your client who needs them.”
“He’s not the only one who needs them. Who needs you.”
She tilted her head back to meet my eyes. This close, I could see the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. The scent of vanilla and cocoa clung to her skin, sweet and alluring.
“Do you really need me, Brok? Truly?”
It was a real, honest question. I certainly hadn’t proven that I needed her when I left. But I did, and not because of how much she’d helped with Barnaby.
She’d asked me for explanations. Arguments. A proper conversation. But orcs didn’t speak with words. Not really. There was only one answer I could give, one way I could make her understand.
I closed the final distance between us. My mouth found hers with the same precision I applied to everything else. But the moment our lips touched, precision became impossible. The only thing I could think about was her.
The kiss turned hungry fast. Her tongue met mine with no hesitation, and the soft sound she made vibrated through my entire body.
Every nerve ending fired at once. Every carefully maintained boundary dissolved.
I backed her up against the refrigerator, the metal groaning under the force of our combined weight.
She gasped against my mouth, and I swallowed the sound.
I slid my palms up from her waist to her ribcage, my thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through that sinful red dress.
She arched into the touch, her body curving against mine.
It felt fated, almost intentional, as if we had been built to fit together exactly this way.
Her pulse raced under my lips when I kissed down her neck. My cock strained against my pants, and when her hips rolled against me, I groaned into the hollow of her throat.
She found my face with her palms, guiding my mouth back to hers.
This kiss was messier, more desperate. I tried not to break her skin with my tusks, but she didn’t seem to appreciate that decision.
If anything, my attempt at gentleness frustrated her.
“I’m not going to break,” she hissed at me. “Just touch me.”
She was just as bossy as she’d been with me earlier. I was more than happy to obey her. “Whatever you want, Hazel,” I promised.
I bent down and scooped her up, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. She felt so small, so fragile in my arms. How could one tiny human hold such power over me? Once, I’d have deemed it impossible, but now it felt more natural than anything in the world.
Hazel grabbed onto my shoulders with a sharp intake of breath. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you somewhere more suitable.” Well, halfway suitable. Suitable enough. More appropriate for what I had in mind, at least.
In an ideal world, I’d have taken her apart on my big bed, in my apartment. But I’d run out of patience, and so had Hazel. A more improvised option would have to do.
I carried her to the large work table in the center of her kitchen. It was still stained with carob, remnants of the cake she’d thrown at me. I set her down on the edge and went immediately for her zipper. As much as the sinful red dress suited her, I wanted it off. As soon as possible.
And then it happened. Before I could touch her properly, she flinched.
My heart dropped. This was it. The moment where she came to her senses and realized she was about to sleep with an orc. I was a creature from another realm, someone who could never fit into her normal human life. There was no way she could want this.
Or… could she? Open your mouth and talk like an adult, Brok.
“Are you all right?” I asked her. A good effort. Hazel had taught me something tonight.
“Fine,” she rushed to assure me. She sounded about as confident as Barnaby. “I just… I’m not exactly…”
It took me mere seconds to realize what she meant. To grasp the fact that this woman, this perfect woman, actually thought there was something wrong with her.
I silenced her with a kiss, hard and demanding. When I pulled back, I made sure she was looking directly into my eyes.
The words came to my lips like they never had before. And this time, it wasn’t difficult at all.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” I framed her face with my palms, my thumbs stroking her cheekbones.
“Strength. Real strength, not the kind that comes from a gym. You built this business from nothing. You stood up to your grandmother. You argued with me when I came in here acting like an ass.”
She didn’t flinch again, not from my claws, my words, or our proximity.
Encouraged, I pulled the zipper down slowly.
“And your body? I have dreamed about this body every night since I walked into your shop. Imagined what you would look like spread out before me. How you would feel. How you would taste.”
The dress fell open, revealing creamy skin and a red lace bra that made my mouth go dry. I peeled the fabric off her shoulders slowly, letting it pool at her waist. Her breasts swelled over the cups of her bra, and when I cupped them through the lace, she moaned.
I unhooked her bra with more care than I had shown to anything in recent memory. The garment joined her dress. And then she was bare from the waist up, her breasts exposed to my hungry gaze. Her dusty pink nipples responded to my touch, already peaked with arousal.
Bending over her, I kissed every inch of her exposed skin. Her collarbone, the upper swell of her breasts. The valley between them, rich with her scent. She shook under my attention, her palms flat against the table.
I moved my mouth between her breasts, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan.
My tongue circled one nipple while my fingers rolled the other.
When I bit down gently, her whole body jerked.
I grazed her silken skin with a tusk, and she started to shake.
“Brok, please.” She could barely catch her breath. “Don’t stop.”
I had no intention to. Not even all the monsters in the Iron Steppe could have kept me from her right now. I pulled the dress down over her hips, taking her underwear with it. She lay before me in nothing but her heels, her skin flushed and glowing. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. I want you.”
I couldn’t get enough of her. Her voice. The soft swell of her stomach, her hips flaring wide, the red curls covering her mound. I wanted to lose myself in her and never let the world find me.
I dropped to my knees between her legs, holding her thighs apart. “You have me. All of me.”
Her scent filled my senses, sweet and musky and completely intoxicating.
I pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then higher, until my mouth found her center.
The first taste of her made me groan against her flesh.
She was already wet, her body ready for me. I refused to let her wait any longer.