I forced my temper back. I’d gentled her so far this morning, and I didn’t intend on wrecking my advance.
“Does it matter?” she squeaked.
I clenched my jaw. Did it matter? The man wasn’t fucking her. I’d had the proof of that around my cock last night. Whoever he was, though, he had to mean a lot to her for them to visit as often and as clandestinely as they did.
I had my suspicions, but I could wait to have them answered.
As I’d fed her, her cheeks had grown rosy with pleasure. Her eyelids had been drooping lazily. Now? After my question? She was tense again.
Though I’d raised the topic, I despised the fact another man had brought some walls up between us. Then I had to remind myself that Aoife had only known me for a few hours, and that what she did know of me wouldn’t make anyone all that at ease with ‘sharing.’
She’d learn, though. And soon.
I moved to her side and dipped my head, pressing a kiss to her mouth, I bit at her bottom lip, raking it with my teeth. I fucking loved how she whimpered at that move, her tension of seconds before bleeding out like it had never existed.
“Later on tonight, I’m going to think of you, baking in this kitchen, and I’m going to jerk off to it.” I reached back and pressed my finger to her mouth. When she sucked it in, my cock leaped to attention, and I was hard pressed not to moan as I thrust my finger between her lips for a few seconds.
When I pulled out, she nipped at my fingertip, making me groan. Her eyes were sparkling for the first time that morning and I knew, point blank, that the way to get her more comfortable around me, the way to make her at ease with my sudden intrusion in her life, was to overwhelm her with sex.
Because I couldn’t do that to her, not when she had to be sore as fuck, I had to take myself out of the equation.
Earlier on, I’d known that. I had business to take care of, I needed my focus, while she needed to heal. But now? The very prospect had me cursing.
My hands turned into fists as I gritted out, “Be good,” and then, without a backward glance, I stormed out.
Fifteen hours later, after several meetings from hell with Aidan and my brothers, when I walked into my home, the sweet scent of freshly baked bread hit me.
I’d forgotten.
Not Aoife, never her, but my request. I’d forgotten that I’d asked her to make me some. Now, my house scented of the gift she’d left me, and it reminded me of how fucking empty the penthouse was.
I stalked toward the kitchen, uncaring that all I’d intended on doing was heading for the shower to jack off and clean up before diving into bed.
The sight of five loaves on the counter had my lips curving.
They were like what my mother had used to make. Farmhouse white, she’d called it. Big things like cartoon loaves. All doughy and pillowy, not sweet like the bread here.
It was uncanny how I knew what the bread would taste like before I even cut into it, slathered it with butter, and took a bite.
The taste of home hit me, and for once, it didn’t turn my stomach. Before things had been so bad, my mom and I had been close. This reminded me of those times.
As I chomped on three slices, I reached for my cell. It was two AM, and Aidan had brought me back here after a meeting at his office. I’d seen no point in calling Samuel out from his warm bed, but now that I was here, I had questions.
Me: Did Aoife get home safely?
It didn’t take Sam even thirty seconds to reply—it didn’t matter that it was late.
Samuel: Yes. She left at four—covered in flour she was, too. Gave me a loaf of bread of all things.
Me: Good. Enjoy the bread. I need you here at six tomorrow.
Samuel: Sure thing, boss.
Putting the phone down, I smiled at the thought of her baking half a dozen loaves. As I looked at the army of bread, I had to concede that it wouldn’t take me long to power through it.
In fact, I might be on the last loaf when I could finally bring her back here, and claim her as mine again.
***
Aoife
“I can’t believe it.”
I winced. “Me, either.”
Jenny and I both stood outside