Page 17 of Finding the One (River Rain #7)

Pistachio Muffins

Dair

D air woke to rays of sunshine streaming into a bedroom with walls that were almost entirely windows.

He turned onto his side in a bed that was empty, save him, and commandeered a pillow, holding it to his chest as he looked at the sun streaming through the trees.

And, aye.

He could absolutely live here.

The end of the evening before had not gone as he’d planned.

More drinks were consumed. Blake got competitive and demanded another game of Ticket to Ride (Ned won again).

For some reason, this led to the women clustering around Blake’s iPad looking at clothes while Ned and Dair shared a whisky.

It got late. Ned suggested they stay the night rather than heading home at that hour on winding, dark, mountain roads after many beverages had been consumed.

Conveniently, they had three open guest bedrooms.

His mother accepted for the lot of them.

Therefore, Dair didn’t get to take Blake back to his hotel room so they could chat and whatever else he could get up to with her in a hotel room. With the others around, he didn’t get to have that chat at all.

He preferred waking up to Blake’s warm, soft body covering him, but he’d take that view and knowing she was in the same house…for now.

He threw the covers back and went to the bathroom.

He’d discovered last night that the guestrooms were as spectacular as the rest of the house, and not just the ever-present view.

Blake had done those as well, obviously.

Even though the rooms were large, the décor was darker to give more of a cocoon-like feel, which Dair thought was a stroke of brilliance.

His room was on the rustic side. And another Blake touch, the bathrooms were kitted with everything you might need.

New toothbrushes, toothpaste, toiletries for men and women.

Dair availed himself of some of that, particularly the dental hygiene. But he saw a bunch of Kiehl’s stuff for men and decided to give it a go. The facewash smelled of menthol, which was a nice wakeup call. Paired with the moisture shite after it, he found he liked it.

He’d slept in his boxers, so he tugged on his jeans, shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it up but tucked his socks into his shoes, took them with him down the stairs after he tidied the bed and set them by the door.

His nose, which smelled something stupendous baking, along with the scent of cooked bacon, led him to the kitchen.

He stopped dead while entering it.

This was because Blake, his Blake, Blake Sharp, heiress to the Marchioness of Norton title, heiress to the Bernard-Sharp fortune, was standing at the sink wearing a loose-fitting white shirt with wee sleeves, and a pair of white pajama pants with huge red hearts on them.

Huge red hearts .

Her hair was up in a messy knot at her crown, long locks floating down her slender neck.

And last, the kitchen was sparkling clean.

Right…

Bloody fucking hell.

He could fall in love with this woman.

“Morning,” he called, strolling in.

She jerked then turned his way. “Good morning.”

There was a little heart on the left breast of her shirt too.

And she was wearing no makeup, but she was just as stunning as ever.

He couldn’t stop his smirk.

He’d made a decision that morning, that decision being, they weren’t fucking about with this anymore.

This was why he went right up to her, slid an arm around her waist, and pulled her soft body against his.

Her lips formed an “O,” her eyes went lazy in a way he felt in his cock, but she didn’t fight his hold.

“Erm, sleep well?” she asked, awkwardly moving her hands to rest them on his chest.

“Slept better with you draped on me.” She pressed her lips together. It was only then, after his gaze lifted to her eyes, he saw the dark circles under them. He narrowed his on them and asked, “You?”

“Great.”

He bent his head to get close and whispered, “Liar.”

She skirted that and queried, “Want coffee?”

“Aye, and I’ll get it. After ye tell me why ye had trouble sleeping.”

“Dair—”

He gave her a gentle shake. “We’re doing this, lassie. So learn now, I dinnae let important shite go. The entire Wallace clan, save the patriarch, talks things out. We’re honest. Frank. And we dinnae let shite fester.”

“We’re doing this?” she asked on a raise of her exquisitely arched dark brows.

“Are we not?” he asked in return.

“What is this?” she continued questioning.

“We’re going to see,” he replied. “But now, you’re going to tell me why ye didnae sleep.”

She huffed then said, “I got worried about Mum at the apartment. I have things there that mean something to me. I’m concerned she’ll do something to them in her snit.”

Helena could get up to practically anything in one of her snits.

“Ye have mates there you can call to go in and check on stuff?” he queried. “Or grab the things you’re worried about and get them safe?”

Something gorgeous dawned over her face and she said, “Yes, I do,” like the idea of her having friends was a shock to her.

He added that to his list to get into later.

But it was low on the list…for now.

“Contact them. I’ll make my coffee,” he ordered.

She nodded.

He let her go and went to the coffee maker. She went to her phone.

After he added the sugar and took a sip, he looked out the massive window behind the sink that rested at the back of the house and saw her father and his mother sitting on the deck. Ned with one of their substantial rustic mugs, his mother sipping out of a delicate teacup.

He moved back to Blake and rested his hips against the counter close to her just as her phone chirped.

She read the text.

“Oh good, the G-Force is on it,” she said to her phone, her thumbs flying over the screen.

He took another sip and asked, “The G-Force?”

She sent her next text, put her phone down and looked up at him. “The G-Force. Kind of like gay superheroes. Though, they only deal in justice within New York’s elite social set.”

Sounded like men he’d want to meet.

Dair smiled. “Aye, so they’ll be all over dispensing justice to your mother.”

Her gaze wandered to her phone. “They seem keen about it.”

“Feel better?” he asked.

She returned to him. “I should have thought of them before.”

That was the perfect lead-in to asking about her seeming surprised that she had friends, but a tone sounded in the room.

Upon which she announced, “The muffins are done.”

Muffins?

She moved to the oven and Dair watched as she pulled out a tin filled with what looked like perfectly baked American muffins, browned in bits, but the color was lime.

“What are those?” he asked.

“Pistachio muffins,” she answered, resting them on the island.

Holy hell.

They smelled ludicrously good.

But how long had the woman been up?

Clean kitchen. Homemade muffins.

She flicked off the oven mitt and turned to him.

“Do you think Davi will be okay if we have breakfast without her? The bacon is done and warming, the eggs are ready to cook. Dad and Kenna have been up for a while. And we should eat these muffins while they’re warm.

Warm muffins are the best. I can make fresh eggs for her when she gets up. ”

Dair didn’t move.

No.

He couldn’t .

“Dair?” she called.

Her dad and his mum were outside.

Davina could walk in at any minute.

But after the spread she laid before them last night, she’d made them muffins and was worried about Davi.

Ah well.

Fuck it.

He moved toward her, and she only caught his intent at the very last second.

When he reached her, Dair didn’t hesitate to confirm his intent.

He palmed her jaw, his fingers curving behind her ear, and wrapped his other arm around her waist, yanking her up against him.

Again, she didn’t tense or pull away. In fact, he didn’t even have to tip her head back. She tipped it, and as his head descended, she cupped his cheek and her eyes fluttered closed.

His cock jumped to life.

Fucking hell, she was something.

With her invitation, he tilted his head and kissed her.

Not that first hesitation, Blake kissed him back at the same time she arched into him, like she was as hungry for him as he was for her. Like she’d been wanting to do this since she saw him, just like he had.

As her reward, and his, he slid his tongue along the crease of her lips.

She made a little noise that scored along his cock, her hand gliding over his cheek so she could wrap her arm around his neck. She pressed even closer and opened her mouth to allow him access inside.

Dair felt her and he could smell her subtle scent that was so very Blake. Contradictory. Intoxicating. Surprising.

It was feminine and powdery.

Supremely her, and completely not.

Perfect.

And as he slid his tongue into her mouth, he discovered she tasted of coffee and warmth and woman.

Even better.

A lot better.

So much better, for the first time in his life, his control snapped. He turned her and backed her into the kitchen island, arching her over it.

And it wasn’t just him that made the kiss go wild.

Blake matched him, stroke for stroke, nip for nip, suck for suck, crushing her tits to his chest, her soft hips against his cock.

Fuck.

She was amazing.

They’d broken only for the necessity of breath, then he felt Blake’s teeth sink into his lower lip as she demanded more of him.

He growled, his cock stiffening, his fingers tensing against her neck.

And he went at her.

She matched that too, whimpering, and her hand slid into his hair.

Dair was about to break the kiss only to drag her to his room when…

“Ack! Yuck! I can never unsee that!” Davi protested.

They ended the embrace and Blake self-consciously sidled away from him.

Her hands went to her hair, which was a mess he didn’t get the chance to make, but this was nervous self-consciousness he liked from her.

It was fucking adorable.

“Coffee!” Davi cried, making a beeline to it.

“B-breakfast will be in about ten, fifteen minutes,” Blake pushed out, visibly having trouble calming her breath.

Oh, aye.

Adorable.