A thought occurred to me, and I leaned forward. “Has anyone ever baked something?”
Rivelin went still. “I don’t know the first thing about baking.”
“Oh, but I do.” I smiled.
R ivelin headed to the market to collect a list of ingredients from the grocer—flour, eggs, butter, milk, and sugar—along with some sweet spices from the apothecary. He returned just as I finished clearing the dining table of earthen debris and scrubbing it with a saltwater dishrag.
He dumped his cargo by the sink and eyed me warily. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”
“I grew up making these.” I motioned at the satchel. “Did you get the muffin tray from Mabel?”
“Yes, she had one, just like you thought.”
“Good. Get me a bowl, then fire up the hearth. I’m going to need some gloves, too.”
His lips twitched as he moved to the cupboard. “Someone is feeling bossy.”
“You best believe it. We have a lot of cupcakes to make.”
The morning passed in a delicious haze of baking. At first, Rivelin watched me mix the batter and frosting, only jumping in to hold the tin over the fire. Soon, his house filled with the sweet scent of sugary perfection. After the first batch cooled, he sampled my concoction and gave me a wide-eyed nod of approval. Two more batches in, he jumped in to help mix.
When he poured the bag of flour into the bowl, a cloud of white sprayed his face and clothes. He blinked, coughing, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re supposed to pour it into the bowl, not on your face,” I said.
He waved at the fog of flour and slowly approached, like a wolf stalking his prey. “Oh, is that so?”
“Now Rivelin. Wait—”
He took his flour-dusted hand and smeared it across my face. My mouth dropped open, and as I reached for the bowl of frosting, Rivelin wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me onto the dining table. Leaning close, he pressed his forehead against mine. Steam and flour and heat whorled between us.
“You look impossibly appetizing today, baking cupcakes in my kitchen with the scent of my house and my forge—and me—all over you.”
Shuddering, I breathed him in and tasted his scent, realizing that yes, at some point, ours had mingled, despite sleeping in different rooms and scarcely touching each other for days.
“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” I said.
A man’s heart.
As soon as I’d said it, I wanted to take it back. How foolish and embarrassing could I be? Now Rivelin would get the wrong idea. He’d believe I expected more from him, that I’d read too much into a brief moment of passion. It had been meaningless and nothing more.
And I didn’t think I could face him every day, let alone work beside him, if he thought I was falling for him.
“My heart, eh?” He brushed his nose against mine, and a quiver went through me. And that was when I realized my fear of leaving Wyndale was not entirely about Isveig. I had met someone who understood me and had devoted his life to protecting his people—the people he’d chosen as his. He tried to hide how much he cared behind a gruff voice and scowl, but I could see the truth in him. Inside, he was just as soft as one of these cupcakes.
I smiled at him—really smiled. And I couldn’t remember the last time I’d tried to fake one. It had been days. Maybe even weeks.
He gripped the back of my head and kissed me fiercely, like he’d yearned for this moment just as much as I had. My toes curled as he explored my mouth with his tongue, tasting me as if he’d never get his fill. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest, a delicious, intoxicating thrill going through me. His touch set me on fire, but even more than that, everything about the way our bodies fit together felt achingly right.
When he pulled back, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t fucking control myself when I’m with you.”
“What is there to be sorry for?” I wound my arm around his waist and tugged him closer. I wanted him here, like this. No more dancing around it or avoiding the tension that burned between us every moment of every day. Unless we could find a miraculous solution, I didn’t have much longer in Wyndale. Time was flying by. It was a waste to pretend like there wasn’t something powerful between us and not to relish this unexpected bond. Every moment was far too precious not to take it by the horns and live.
“I am not the kind of man you need in your life,” he said roughly. “I’m an insufferable, grumpy bastard. Those are your own words. As much as I’d like to spend every night in bed with you, you’ll be far better off if we don’t. In fact, I’ve started asking around about a house here for you. One that you can call yours. There are a couple vacant ones over near the—”
I pressed my finger to his lips. “You’re an insufferable bastard, but you’re also protective and courageous and kind. No one has ever treated me the way you do. No one, Rivelin.”
“You mean, like when I tossed your beloved mother’s dagger into the sea and then threatened you with bodily harm?”
“Eh, I would have done the same to you,” I said with a slight smile. “A murk washed up on your shore. What else were you to do?”
He searched my eyes. “I don’t deserve anything with you.”
I hopped off the table and pulled my tunic over my head. “You deserve it all.”
We couldn’t remove the rest of our clothes fast enough. When our garments were tossed across the floor, covered in flour, Rivelin hungrily lifted me back onto the table and took my breast in his mouth, teasing my peaked nipple with his tongue. I dropped back my head and moaned, tangling my fingers in his hair. Fates be damned, I had wanted this for days.
His free hand gently squeezed my other breast, then he slid his palm across my nipple. A delicious ache tightened my core.
Rivelin lifted his head and captured my mouth in his. His soft lips consumed me, his kiss so intent it was as if he thought he might never have the chance to touch me again. Our bodies crashed together as a hunger unlike any I’d ever known clutched me in its grip and held me there. My breasts pushed against his sculpted chest, and I hooked my leg around his thigh, tugging him closer.
I needed him, now more than I ever had. We’d given in to this before, but there was something different about it now. It was as if all the walls around my heart had finally crashed to the ground, becoming chunks of rubble. Rivelin had breached my defenses, and what was more, I was glad for it. For the first time in my life, I did not need to hide the truth of who I was and how I felt. I was free to just be me.
A deep groan rumbled from the very depths of his soul as he pressed his swollen tip against my core. Chills swept through my entire body at the feel of him there. His cock brushed against my clit. Oh fate. I spread my legs wider and arched toward him, my body begging him to take me here on this table with flour painting our cheeks and arms.
He inched inside me, slowly at first, before he thrust so hard and deep I cried out.
“Rivelin,” I gasped, clenching around him.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured as he palmed the table on either side of my hips. He slid out, then pounded into me once more. Sparks of pleasure spotted my vision. Already, everything within me coiled so tightly I could barely breathe.