Page 125 of Bound By Song

I grip her hair, guiding her, hips barely rocking. “Almost there, baby. You’re gonna make me come. Fuck— Evie—Fuck?—”

My orgasm slams through me in hot, shuddering pulses, and she doesn’t pull away – shetakesit, swallowing around me like she was born to. I can barely breathe, the sight of her kneeling there, flushed and smug and so fuckingmine, burning itself into my brain forever.

I collapse back against the piano, chest heaving.

She rests her hands on my thighs, lips still parted like she wants to taste me again.

And all I can do is cup her face and pull her up into a kiss.

“Holyfuck, Evie,” I whisper against her mouth. “You just ruined me.”

Her smile is shy but wicked, and I know I’ll never be the same again.

The door creaks open.

“Lunch is ready,” Xar calls without entering. Absolute fucker knows exactly what he’s interrupting – there’s no way he can’t smell our releases. “Evie needs to eat. Real food, not your dick. Don’t make me come get her.”

I choke on a laugh, breathless, and Evie lets me slip from her mouth with one last teasing lick.

“Saved by the Xar,” I mutter.

She grins, flushed and glowing and utterly radiant. “Iamhungry.”

I tuck myself away, helping her to her feet. “Come on, then. Let’s feed you before we get carried away again.”

She kisses me once more, soft and lingering.

And for the first time since we met her, I feel it – we’re not chasing her anymore.

She’swithus now.

EVIANA

Lunch is simple – hearty bowls of soup and warm bread, shared around the table with shoulders brushing and thighs bumping, and the quiet hum of comfort that’s slowly become familiar. I sit between Dane and Blaise, my body still humming from earlier, awareness prickling under my skin every time one of them leans too close or murmurs something low just for me.

I shouldn’t feel shy. Not after what happened in the studio. But there’s something about the way Blaise keeps sneaking glances at me from beneath his lashes – like he’s remembering it too – that has my cheeks heating all over again. Dane, ever steady, keeps his hand on my knee beneath the table, his thumb drawing soft circles that make me press my lips together just to stay grounded.

Xar catches my eye from across the table and quirks a brow like he knowsexactlywhat’s going on inside my head.

After we eat, the kitchen fills with soft chatter and the scent of flour and sugar from whatever Xar’s baking as I drag out my paint supplies. Somehow, we end up elbow-deep in a spontaneous Christmas card-making session. Blaise insists on using glitter, which ends up in his hair and stuck to Dane’s forearm. Xar’s is surprisingly neat – minimalist but precise. I spot a pine tree inked in perfect brushstrokes with a gold star on top.

Mine are messier. More colour than control. But it feels good. Light. Easy.

We bake too. Well,Ibake. Blaise tries to sabotage the cookie dough by adding what he claims is “a whisper of cayenne for character.” Xar smacks his hand away and mutters something about food crimes. I can’t stop laughing.

And then…they start acting weird.

I catch Dane and Xar exchanging a look, and then Blaise swoops in, blocking me with his entire body as I try to walk into the lounge.

“Nope,” he says cheerfully, herding me back toward the hallway. “Absolutely not. This room is currently classified.”

“Classified?” I cross my arms. “I live here.”

“Temporarily classified, then,” he amends with a wink. “Can’t have you ruining the surprise.”

I narrow my eyes. “What surprise?”

He just grins wider and turns to the others. “Shall we distract her?”

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