41. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
Emma
I awake to the smell of pancakes. Specifically, the sweetness of blueberries and sugar. When I lift my head out of the covers, Dacre is standing in nothing but his boxers in the kitchen area. His bare back glistens in the sunlight.
“You’re cooking,” I mumble, stretching out.
His shirt is almost as comfortable as his bed.
Currently, that’s all I have on, considering he tore everything last night.
I haven’t decided whether I’m going to ask my sisters to bring me clothes.
At the moment, all I care about is memorizing the curves in Dacre’s back muscles and staring at his butt.
“Felt like it this morning.” He turns with a wink.
“What did you make me?”
He finishes his garnishes and presents me with what can only be described as “fancy pancakes.” They’re soufflé-style, with cream between each layer and what appears to be brown butter sauce. What’s more, they’re garnished with blueberry compote, edible glitter, and star sprinkles.
“Your signature. I wanted to give it a try.” Dacre is too handsome for his own good. This is his real smile—slightly crooked, a small dimple on his left side that I hadn’t noticed before, and his canine teeth prominent.
I pop a fluffy bite into my mouth and close my eyes. Every time I try his dishes, I can’t believe the depth of taste and the way he sneaks in unexpected hints of different flavors without taking over the whole dish. They’re perfectly balanced recipes.
“This is amazing. You have to teach me how your mind works.”
He chuckles. “I’ll teach you everything you want to know.”
Dacre just might regret telling me that.
I devour half the plate in minutes. I’m so hungry.
When I’m done, my senses are a little more in order. I take a good look around the room, examining the aftermath of the night before. The mess of sheets around me. The fact that I don’t have underwear on. All the sensations of last night linger on my skin and between my legs.
I finger a small bruise on my arm. “I was kinda afraid . . . I’d be waking up alone today.”
“And I was afraid you’d be storming out and telling me you never wanted to see me again.”
He takes the spot next to me, and I squeeze his hand. My thumb rubs the scars on the top of his hand. Now that I’m this close to him, I spot the raised skin below his tattoos. Maybe that’s why he got these tattoos, to cover up years of scars.
“It’s the literal opposite of that,” I say, averting my eyes to the sheets.
Last night was . . . so much more than lust or the fevour. We connected. The sex was great, better than I imagined sex could be, but the pleasure isn’t what I miss.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel that type of bond with another person.
Especially not one that wasn’t magical. I kinda thought sex was only about satisfying passions and needs.
Who was going to tell me that when it’s someone you love, it’s like carving out a piece of your soul and holding it out with both hands?
“I really don’t know what to do now, but I knew making you breakfast was the first step.”
He’s reading me, waiting for my body language, which is fine because I’m perfectly happy leaning in to kiss him.
The wetness of his lips pulls a satisfied moan from mine.
“No more pain or anything? Are you sore?” He pulls at the collar of my shirt to inspect me, and his brow dents with worry.
I shake my head. “I feel so happy right now, and I don’t think anything can ruin it. Not even Luther and Verity and that whole mess.”
“I’ll take care of it. Damage control is what Everharts are good at.”
“What should I do, then?” I check the clock. I’m a no-show for my classes. Again.
I feel as if I could sleep for another seven days. After months of waking up early and coming to my room late, taking a few days to myself doesn’t sound too bad.
“Maybe contact your sisters. I bet they’re looking for you.”
“You’re right.” I pull on his arm to chain him to the bed with me. “But I don’t want to move.”
“I, unfortunately, have a meeting with my grandfather today.”
“Wait, why?”
“He didn’t say, but he wasn’t too happy that I didn’t return his calls yesterday.”
“You shouldn’t go. You should hide here with me.”
He chuckles again. How do I make him do that every day, over and over?
The warmth of his fingers lingers on my neck as he holds my gaze. “I don’t plan on hiding. In fact, I plan on showing you off extensively once I take care of some things.”
“What things?”
“Clearing up the mess Verity and Luther made. You’re an amazing chef, and you deserve to be in the culinary club.”
“What if . . . What if I don’t want to be in the club anymore?”
“I promise I can handle Luther and Verity.”
“It’s not them . . . It’s . . . I spent all this time wanting to be there, and then I got there, and I’m not sure it’s what I want anymore. All I ever wanted was to be this famous chef in the city, and now I . . . I’m not sure what I want exactly.”
“You have time to decide.” He leans in with a soft press of his lips. “We’ll figure something out.”
“We’ll?”
“I don’t know how my grandfather is going to take the news that I’m not going through with this arranged wedding. He might be kicking me out of the club and disowning me.”
I can’t believe I almost forgot about that.
“What about Florence?”
“I already talked to her while you were sleeping. I have a plan.”
“I don’t like causing problems for you.”
“No. You don’t cause problems for me. The opposite.
I’ve been so . . . numb for a long time.
Just waiting around for my grandfather’s approval.
It’s as if I were just waiting for my life to end, and then I met you, and you made me feel so much all the time.
For the first time in a long time, I know what I need to do. ”
“I don’t know what to say . . .” I kiss him. Then again. I hope I can show him what his words mean to me.
“This is enough for me.”
He smiles again, and I touch the small dimple on his cheek.
“I guess I have to let you go for the day.” I sigh.
There’s nothing left to do but to separate from my . . . Wait, do I say boyfriend? Is that the right word? It’s the first day. We’ll figure it out. Maybe I can hide in one of Dacre’s robes on my way back to—
He grabs my leg, hauling me to the edge of the bed with a playful smile. “I didn’t say you could leave.”
The warmth of his fingertips tickles my thighs.
“I’m afraid my obsession with you has only gotten worse, and I’m very thirsty.”
I laugh. “Oh, no. My vampire stalker has finally gotten me right where he wants me. Whatever will I do?”
“Very funny.”
I feel his teeth dig into my thigh, and I gasp. He soothes me with the gentle lap of his tongue on my skin and then moves up my leg with soft kisses.
“It was driving me crazy last night, not being able to kiss you.”
My hips naturally move to his rhythm. I’m craving that feeling again. Not just the orgasm. But the connection.
“You’re not allowed to go anywhere before I taste you.” His tongue laps at the apex of my thigh, where I’m bare and open for him. My hips jerk.
“This is mine,” he murmurs.
My head tips back, and a moan belts from my lungs as he gently sucks and takes me fully into his mouth.
I’m teetering already. Clawing. Panting.
He softly bites the crux of my thigh, and I squeeze him closer.
That’s all the urging he needs to sink his teeth into my leg.
The first few seconds have my head swimming.
It’s a different kind of bleeding pleasure that zaps all the nerves in my body.
My lower belly tightens, and I’m already there.
I try to catch it, to stop it, but Dacre’s tongue secures it in seconds.
“Tell me.”
“I’m yours.”
He grunts, biting my thigh again, then again. “So, maybe tonight we continue?”
I’m lost in the heady air, still drifting down from my orgasm.
“I have so many things I want to show you . . . to teach you.” He sucks on my clit for a few dizzying seconds and then bites into my thigh. “Eyes on me.”
Dacre goes back for seconds. Then thirds. The orgasm rolls through me, and his tongue takes and tastes as if he’s never had anything so delicious. Soft at first, then harder.
“I’m never going to get tired of this,” he whispers.
That, I believe. I didn’t even know multiple orgasms were a thing. It helps to have a man who is so attuned to my body.
I beckon him closer, whispering in his ear. “I want to touch you.”
His emerald eyes darken. I wish he could read my mind. I do want to touch him, but I’m scared of doing all the wrong things. I want to learn.
“You’ll let me teach you?” With a soft grip, his hand finds mine, and he moves my hand to the bulge in his boxers.
I gasp, entranced by the way he seems to know what I’m thinking.
Mimicking his pressure and movement, I do as he instructs, and a sprinkle of satisfaction courses through me at the soft sounds that leave him.
“That’s good,” he urges, and his praise is all the encouragement I need to keep going.
With one hand, Dacre frees himself from his boxers and guides my hand to stroke him. I’m obsessed with the way he shudders at my touch.
“Grip harder. Just like that.” His fingers knot in my hair, and he nods with satisfaction.
He shows me the pace, the pressure, everything he needs, until hot cum coats my stomach, and my breaths blend into a heady haze.
“You’ll need to get used to this.”
I nod. Watching, waiting, as he moves what’s gathered on my stomach and presses it inside me, unable to think in a capacity that doesn’t feel primal.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Yes, what?”
“Yes, Chef?” I tease.
He curls his fingers in and I nearly levitate. “Very funny, but not the word I’m looking for.”
I’m pulled back into pleasure again. He pumps his fingers in and out of me, feeding this building desire that’s there. Again.
“Please.” I think he’s wrung it all out of me until the desire snarls and tears into me, and I ride the wave on his fingers, wishing they were something else.
“We’ll save it for next time,” he purrs.