Chapter 15
Confused, Marigold tilted her head. “The best part?”
“You’ll see.” Gavin bent, rummaging for a moment, then came up with a half-gallon container and a triumphant grin. “Dessert.”
Her brows knit as he set it on the counter. “That’s the ice cream, isn’t it?”
“Correct.” He pulled bowls from the cupboard and two spoons from the drawer, every movement efficient, as though he’d been planning this little reveal all along. “You’ve never had it before?”
She shook her head slowly. “No. The Patriarch didn’t believe in treats. Especially for me.” Her voice faltered.
Something flickered in his gaze—anger, maybe, or sorrow—but he covered it with a softer expression as he popped the lid off the tub. “Then tonight’s your night. Everyone deserves ice cream.”
He scooped generous swirls into the bowls, making a production out of it, which made her smile. When he handed one of the bowls to her, she held it carefully, almost reverently. Cold radiated through the porcelain into her hands, startling and fascinating.
Gavin sat back down beside her, spoon in hand. “Go on. Try it.”
Marigold hesitated, then lifted a spoonful. The moment it touched her tongue, her eyes went wide. The creaminess melted instantly, rich with vanilla and sugar, unlike anything she’d ever tasted.
“Oh,” she breathed, a tiny, incredulous laugh escaping her. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
Gavin chuckled, his smile warm and unguarded. “Told you. Best part.”
She took another bite, slower this time, savoring it. For a moment, the darkness of her family and the ache of her lost childhood, all receded. There was just her, Gavin, and the miracle of something as simple as ice cream.
She lingered over the last spoonful, reluctant to have her first ice cream experience come to an end. Gavin chuckled as he scraped his own bowl clean and rose, collecting the empty dishes.
“Well,” he said, rinsing them in the sink, “looks like I’ll be keeping the freezer stocked from now on. Clearly, you’re a fan.”
She laughed. It was an unguarded, bubbling sound that startled her as much as him. The weight on her chest lifted just a little more.
“I didn’t know anything could taste like that. It’s like…” She groped for words. “Like happiness. Cold, creamy happiness.”
Gavin glanced over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. “Cold happiness, huh? Guess I’ll have to balance it out with some heat.”
The teasing warmth in his tone set her cheeks aflame. She rose to help clear the table, carrying a few things to the counter, but when she stepped close to the sink, Gavin turned and blocked her with the solid breadth of his body.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, roughened by something that sent a shiver racing through her. “I might start thinking you’re spoiling me. I mean, you’re sharing your laughter, sitting here in my kitchen, eating my ice cream.”
She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, her heart stuttering. She felt daring and decided to play along with his teasing banter.
“Maybe I am spoiling you a little.”
The silence between them thickened, pulsing with heat. His hand came up slowly, brushing her hair back from her cheek. The touch was tender, almost reverent, but the hunger in his golden eyes left no doubt about what he wanted. And what she wanted.
Her breath caught. “Gavin…”
He dipped his head, capturing her lips with a kiss that stole the ground from beneath her feet. No hesitation this time, no fragile testing. Just need. Fierce, consuming, and undeniable.
Her fingers clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, until her back pressed against the counter. He braced one hand against the cabinet beside her, the other sliding to her waist, holding her steady as he deepened the kiss.
The taste of his warmth, his strength, and a faint echo of sweetness from dessert was intoxicating. She moaned softly into his mouth, and his growl answered, low and primal, vibrating through her bones.
“I can’t stay away from you,” he rasped against her lips.
“Then don’t.” Her voice trembled, but the words were steady, a plea and a promise all at once.
He kissed her again, harder this time, and the world narrowed to heat and touch and the wild rhythm of her own heartbeat. His hands roamed, careful yet claiming, until she thought she might burn alive from the inside out. There was no more sadness, no more fear. Just Gavin. He was more than enough.
The dishes, the kitchen, and the city beyond the windows all faded to nothing as she gave herself over to him, right there in the kitchen.
He lifted her onto the counter, stepping into the space between her legs as if he belonged there.
After the time they’d spent pleasuring each other, she thought maybe he did.
He kissed her as he slipped her clothing off, a piece at a time, tossing it to the nearby chair. His own clothing followed. His shirt went first, for which she was grateful. She got to stroke his skin and feel his hard muscles against her body, which was something she could never get enough of.
He unbuttoned his pants but didn’t go any further.
Instead, he focused on getting her naked and accomplished his goal in short order.
He’d thoughtfully placed a kitchen towel on the cold granite surface of the countertop under her bare bottom, then reclaimed his place between her spread legs and brought their chests together to rub as he meshed his lips to hers and claimed her mouth once more.
He wasn’t in a hurry, but the fire rising in her body made her want to speed him along.
“Please,” she whispered against his lips, her hands fumbling with the waistband of his pants. “I want to touch you too.”
His breath hitched as she worked his zipper down with trembling fingers. When her palm found the hard length of him, he groaned low in his throat, his forehead dropping to rest against hers.
“Goldie,” he rasped, his voice strained. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Her fingers wrapped around him more confidently, marveling at the heat and silky hardness. “I want to learn you. All of you.”
The reverent wonder in her voice nearly undid him. His hips jerked forward involuntarily as she stroked him, her touch curious and eager. She watched his face with fascination, her attention to his needs making his inner lion happy, for some reason.
“That feels incredible,” he managed, his voice rough as gravel. “But if you keep that up, this is going to be over before we really begin.”
She smiled—a wicked little curve of her lips. “Then maybe you should distract me.”
Challenge accepted. His mouth crashed down on hers as his hands skimmed her thighs, spreading them wider. When his thumb found her center, already slick with want, she gasped and arched against him.
“So responsive,” he murmured, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with practiced ease. “I love the sounds you make when I touch you here.”
Her soft whimpers filled the kitchen as he worked her higher, his fingers teasing and stroking until she was trembling on the edge. Before she could fly over it, he pulled back, leaving her aching.
“Gavin,” she protested, reaching for him.
“Patience,” he growled, positioning himself at her entrance. “I want to be inside you when you fall apart.”
The first press of him stretching her made them both groan. He moved slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust despite the hunger clawing at his control. When he was fully seated, they stayed still for a moment, foreheads touching, breathing hard.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice tight with restraint.
“More than okay.” She rolled her hips, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. “Move, Gavin. Please.”
He withdrew almost completely before sliding back in, setting a rhythm that was both tender and demanding. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper as their bodies found their perfect sync.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly when her eyes fluttered closed. “I want to see you. All of you.”
She met his gaze, and he felt something shift between them.
This wasn’t just physical anymore. It was a sort of claiming, a recognition, a promise of things neither was quite ready to voice.
That thought should probably scare the hell out of him, but he was too far gone to care as she tightened around him in preparation for a hard, fast climax that promised to rock them both down to the ground.
His pace quickened as he felt her squirming against him, her breath coming in sharp pants. One hand braced against the cabinet while the other found her most sensitive spot, circling with the perfect pressure.
“Come for me, Goldie,” he urged, his voice a dark rumble. “Let me watch you fly apart.”
She cried out his name as pleasure crashed over them both in waves, her body arching as she pulsed around him. The sight and feel of her climax triggered his own, and he buried his face against her neck with a hoarse shout as he emptied himself into her welcoming heat.
They stayed locked together afterward, hearts hammering, breathing ragged. Gavin pressed gentle kisses to her temple, her cheek, anywhere he could reach while they floated back down to earth.
“That was...” she began, then trailed off with a soft laugh.
“Better than ice cream?” he suggested, his own breathing still unsteady.
She giggled, the sound pure joy. “Much better than ice cream. Though I have to say, the counter is getting a little uncomfortable.”
He chuckled and carefully withdrew, helping her down from the granite surface. Her legs were unsteady, and he caught her against his chest, holding her close as aftershocks still trembled through her.
“Come on,” he murmured, scooping up their scattered clothes. “Let’s get cleaned up and find somewhere more comfortable for round two.”
Her eyes widened. “Round two?”
His grin was pure predator. “Sweetheart, we’re just getting started.”
*
The shrill buzz of Gavin’s phone sliced through the quiet of the bedroom sometime early the next morning.
Gavin jerked awake instantly, years of training kicking in before he even registered where he was.
The soft warmth pressed against his side reminded him.
He was with Marigold. Her breath hitched as she stirred, blinking at him in the pale light filtering around the curtains.
He snatched the phone off the nightstand and thumbed it on. The emergency signal flashed red across the screen.
“Gavin,” he answered with his name only.
A voice answered fast, clipped. He listened, every muscle in his body tightening as details spilled through the line. His jaw clenched. “When? How many? No. Lock it down. I’m on my way.”
He was already shoving out of bed, pulling on his pants with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Shirt, socks, boots. He moved with the brutal efficiency of a man who’d done this a hundred times before.
Marigold sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. Her eyes were wide, shadowed with worry, but there was no hesitation. She slid out of bed, reaching for the clothes folded neatly on the chair.
“You shouldn’t leave the apartment,” he started, breaking off as she cut him a look that dared him to argue.
“I can tell something’s wrong. I’m not letting you face it alone,” she said simply.
Damn if his chest didn’t tighten at the resolve in her voice. She might still be fragile, still recovering, but she was no longer the girl who’d flinched from her own shadow. She was a woman who had just begun to realize her own strength.
Grabbing his jacket, he slung it over one arm and turned to find her pulling on her boots, her talisman gleaming faintly at her throat.
For one fierce moment, he wanted to tell her to stay up here in the penthouse.
He wanted to keep her in the dark about what was going on.
But he knew he couldn’t. She could never fully recover from the hell her family had put her through if she didn’t learn to face the hard things, and what little he’d heard about what had happened was definitely one of the hard things.
He crossed the room and squeezed her hand. “Stay close to me, Goldie. No matter what.”
Her fingers tightened around his, and for a moment, he just held on, grounding himself in her steady gaze.
Then he released her hand, only long enough to shrug into his jacket and check the pistol he often kept holstered at his side.
Not that a gun would do much against mages, but he liked to be prepared for anything.
This was Texas, and he had all the proper permits to go armed.
His title was Security Chief for Kinkaid Industries, so it was a no-brainer that he would be armed.
Of course, he could always pull out his lion, if things really got tough, but in this day and age with cameras everywhere, it was better to keep the beast under wraps unless completely necessary.