“I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” he confessed, and I stowed away that information for later. “Don’t tell Aileen I made apple cake for breakfast, or we’ll have to deal with her scolding us for eating dessert before noon.”
The warning bells from earlier slipped into the background. He planted a hand on either side of my hips, caging me in. Warmth spread over me, soothing the tension in my muscles.
Being brave, I closed my fingers around one of his forearms,tracing the lines of Celtic crosses and knots woven with thorny roses.
He didn’t pull away, content to let me explore to my heart’s content. A phrase was hidden among the roses:Tá sé scríofa.
Gentle lips brushed against my cheek. “It’s Gaelic for ‘it is fated.’”
Seven
WILLOW
Aquiet buzz followed me through the estate as I wandered. After my odd impromptu breakfast with Kaelen yesterday, I spent my downtime exploring the vastness of my new home.
Home.
The word felt heavy in my chest. I rubbed a spot between my breasts as I tried to soothe it.
My feet padded along a narrow staircase until I reached a heavy glass door. Polished steel brushed against my fingertips as my hand rested on the handle. Aileen let me know—while she fed me far too much food this morning—that I was free to explore anywhere in the house as long as it was unlocked.
The door opened without resistance. A distant thrum of music and clanging iron echoed in the space. My nose twitched, hypersensitive to the thick scent of sweat and cleaning fluid. But then, an undercurrent of something familiar and comforting cutthrough the harsher aromas.
Espresso and whisky.
Unmistakably alpha.
Unmistakably Kaelen.
My omega purred and I panicked. Internally, I cursed her, hating how in tune she was with him. Not that I could blame her. My eyes scanned the vast floor covered in mats, landing on a broad figure in the far corner.
A needy sound choked me as I tried to stifle it before I embarrassed myself.
Muscles rippled on his exposed back as he leaned over a bench press. Sweat glistened on his skin, pooling in the small of his back. Swirls of dark ink covered nearly every inch of pale skin, creating a mosaic of artwork.
Quickly, I batted away a speck of drool.
His sculpted arms flexed with effortless grace as he loaded a staggering amount of weight onto the bar. I gasped. I told myself it was just the humidity in the room, but the dampness in my panties told me otherwise.
I was utterly undone.
“Relax,” I whisper-hissed to my omega, who ignored me.
A hot flush burned my cheeks. I turned to leave, freezing when that infuriatingly sexy Irish brogue rooted me to the spot.
“Willow.”
Damn him.
This was exactly what I wanted to avoid—the sight of him sending my omega and me into a spiral.
He sat at the end of the bench, running a hand through his damp hair before knotting it in another bun at the back of his head. He stared at me, an amused look flashing in his pretty eyes before he ran a towel over his face, giving me a moment to breathe again.
“I-I was just leaving,” I stammered.
“Why don’t you come over here instead?”
No. Nope. Definitely not. Terrible idea.
