“Banana bread. I know it’s your favorite.” Surprise and a thick wash of emotion fill my throat. “Is that why I suddenly started finding it on my breakfast tray when we moved into the manor? Were you having the cooks make it?” She shakes her head, her easy expression revealing how oblivious she is to the way her next statement strikes me. “Oh. No. I made that at home and brought it in for you. But this time, I had to use the fancy kitchen, so it might taste a little—mmmph.” A purr and a growl tangle in my lungs as I find her lips and part them with my tongue. Unable to stop myself.
