The soft kiss he places on my temple makes me melt against his larger body and sigh. Who would have thought Professor Segul was a cuddler?
“I’ll allow you to eat dinner in peace,” he says in a tone low and seductive enough to make my pulse race. “But you’ll have to earn dessert.”
ChapterFifteen
MARIUS
We haven’t even fucked yet but I’m in the full belief that Phoenix Stahl is the eighth wonder of the world. She’s passed out beneath the leather sheet, her cheeks still flushed from last night’s exertions.
Her face is a picture of purity—rosebud lips, high cheekbones, and a pert nose with a sprinkling of freckles. Her hair spreads out across the black pillow in a cascade of loose waves tinted copper in the red light.
Exquisite.
If I had a talent for painting, I would call this tableauInnocence Debauched.
I have never met a woman who could keep up with my demands. The best of them usually exercise their amber safe word after about the seventh or eighth orgasm, but not her. She took what I gave her and challenged me for more.
A woman like her deserves a breakfast for a princess.
I place a kiss on her brow and walk across the playroom, already assessing what I have in the fridge to boost her energy. Eggs, smoked salmon, fruit, Greek yogurt? Would she like caviar? I shake my head. Perhaps not on the first date. It’s an acquired taste.
The sound of creaking leather breaks me out of my reverie. I pause at the door to catch a glimpse of her through the leather curtains, but it looks like she’s just shifted in her sleep.
Let her get her rest. She’ll be needing it for what I want to do with her later.
Upstairs, I have to squint a little as I enter the kitchen because the sunlight streaming in from the patio is unexpectedly strong. It reflects off the stainless steel appliances, slate worktops, and white surfaces, making my head throb.
What time is it?
My gaze darts to the kitchen clock. 10:23? It isn’t like me to oversleep, but then, how often do I get to enjoy a submissive before the timer runs out or she exercises her safe word and leaves?
Heat floods my groin, and my cock stirs within the gray sweatpants I pulled on when the leather jeans chafed.
I fill the kettle, then open one of the glass-fronted cupboards to extract a cafetière. My hand drifts to my chin. Would Phoenix prefer hot chocolate?
Perhaps I could make all three and give her a choice.
The landline rings, souring my mood. Only one person would know that number, and that’s the bastard who owns the house.
Ignoring it, I walk to the refrigerator. It’s one of those multi-door affairs recessed within a white unit, with a wine cooler on its right, deep freeze drawers beneath it and a full-length refrigerator on the left.
As the phone continues to ring, my jaw tightens. I would rather live in a hovel as a free man than in the tainted luxury of Crius Vanir.
Mother had better be unharmed. Otherwise…
Fury crashes over my senses like a tidal wave, coloring the edges of my vision red. I grip the refrigerator’s stainless steel handle until my knuckles turn white. The rage that courses through me is hot and impotent.
I haven’t laid eyes on Crius since I shot him in the chest at sixteen. He’s had the good sense to avoid me since then and now only communicates via telephone.
Because we both know the next time I won’t miss.
The phone stops ringing, and I yank open the door. Just as I’m about to pull out the eggs, the phone rings again.
My nostrils flare. The persistent bastard won’t stop until I answer, and if I tear the phone out of its socket, he’ll only send a messenger with another.
I storm across the room and pick up the receiver.
“What?” I snap.