Page 193 of Wicked Bonds

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Like this?”

His palms trailed down her legs to her knees and calves, wrapping them around his waist and pulling her even closer until they were intimately flush with one another. The apron was the only barrier, a tease she desperately wanted to remove.

“Like this,” he whispered, his mouth capturing hers.

She moaned, indulging in the kiss and the sweetness in his mouth. He tasted like sex, syrup, and carnality.

Her own perfect brand of chocolate.

A dessert she would forever crave.

His chest vibrated in approval, the low growl coming from deep within his soul and inspiring her own spirit to come out to play.

Yet he pulled away slowly in the next minute, his focus returning to the pancakes.

He’d promised her a meal.

And it seemed he was hell-bent on seeing it through.

She allowed it, enjoying the way his ass flexed as he moved.

So muscular and perfect, it was no wonder several statues had been made in his honor. Although, it was an absolute travesty that they hadn’t modeled the front after his groin.

“They were intimidated,” he said, grinning as he shamelessly listened to her blunt review of his physique. “They didn’t want to risk emasculating anyone, so they chose to go small on the front.”

“And your ego allowed it because you already know you’re stunning.”

“Exactly that,” he murmured, his grin growing into a smile. “Just as you know you’re stunning.”

It was true. She knew her appeal and her ability to perform in bed. It was what made them perfect for each other—their shared confidence in all things sensual.

And their shared need to live life to the fullest.

“And our love of pancakes,” Balthazar added, still listening to her thoughts.

“I told you, I prefer waffles.”

“Keep lying to me and I won’t fuck you for dessert.”

“What will you do instead?” she inquired, wondering what devious kink he might explore as an alternative. “Spanking? Flogging? Caning?”

He snorted. “I’m not a sadist, vixen.”

“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t take on the role.”

“True,” he admitted. “But only when the partner prefers it, and you don’t want to be mastered.”

He flipped a pancake onto a plate. Followed by a second. Then he put two on his own dish and turned toward the fridge.

“What do I want?” she asked, curious as to what he’d say.

He pulled out a bunch of fruit and some cream, setting them beside the plates, before going for the syrup.

It wasn’t until he had everything situated that he finally looked at her.

“You enjoy dominance, but only when it makes you feel safe.” He picked up the plates of decorated pancakes. “You also like to tease to test boundaries, but you wouldn’t enjoy being punished for it.”

He set the dishes down beside her, then grabbed her hips to move her toward the middle of the island. Her legs parted automatically for him, but he closed them and set a plate on top of her thighs.