Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Campbell
When I wake, Durban’s gone, just like he said he’d be. He also said he’d cook breakfast, and there’s a delicious sweet smell permeating the air. It’s like I woke in Elodie’s bakery.
I roll out of bed and stumble into the bathroom. There’s a hurts-so-good stiffness in my muscles, and the chafe between my legs only reminds me of every delicious thing Durban did to me. But as much as I liked the orgasms, our pillow talk is something I’ll never forget.
I push my tangled hair off my face. I don’t have anything to tie it up with. A new toothbrush and comb rest on the counter and my heart melts. Durban’s going to make someone a good partner someday. I just don’t think he wants to be mine.
Shaking my head, I clean up and brush my teeth. I’m not in a place to make major future decisions. I’ve known Durban for years, and I’ve never thought he was a bad guy. Just a judgmental prick. After one night of sex, I’m wishing for more?
To be fair, he’s outshined all of my exes. Most definitely the last guy I dated. Durban just set the bar in the stratosphere.
When I’m done in the bathroom, I toss on my linen pants, skip the underwear until I get home, and then put my bra on. The Dee’s Sweets sweater I wore when I was here before is draped across his heavy wooden dresser. I toss that on and bury my nose in the collar. Hints of caramel and oak.
I’m leaving his bedroom when I snap my fingers. Straightening up, I return and make the bed, wipe down the sink, and evaluate my efforts. I’m not going to be a whirlwind in his safe space.
A puppy will do that. Was he serious about me finding him a dog? He’s getting kittens. As if I need more fodder for my imagination, a big Durban cuddling furry little creatures adds to it.
I grab my phone. The screen lights up with messages.
Stanford: Hey, where are you?
Stanford: Campbell. Where are you?
Stanford: What’s on today’s agenda?
Stanford: Are you taking ANOTHER day off?
Stanford: Make sure to adjust the invoice.
What a dick.
I roll my eyes and shoot him the schedule for today, which includes another training session with him and January on Hailstorm, and a casual family meal—no bar service. Tomorrow is the tasting with Elodie in the afternoon. After that, they’re going to Banff through next Monday.
I can’t wait for them to clear out of the lodge again.
Me: I’ve attached the schedule for today and tomorrow before your foray into Canada.
In the kitchen, the sweet smell gets stronger, but I can’t find anything on the short island cutting off the dining area from the kitchen. Nothing on the rest of the counters. I run my fingers along the smooth countertop.
Is this marble? Granite? It’s expensive, whatever it is. The backsplash resembles the rock from the mantel, and wow. The man’s got good taste. And from what he said, I’m the first woman to enjoy it.
Take that, Doctor-Doctor Natalie.
Did he get up in time to bake?
On a hunch, I open the oven. A gust of warm air bathes my face. Inside are a half dozen berry muffins. A grin stretches my mouth wide.
My phone buzzes. I close the oven and check who it is.
Stanford: We’re changing the time for lessons today.
I growl just as Durban enters from the laundry room. He cocks a brow.
I forget the text and take him in. He kept his cowboy boots on and they give him that rolling swagger I admire.
Then there’s his tight black shirt and green flannel with the sleeves rolled up over it.
As always, he fills out a pair of blue jeans in an obscene way.
His hair is smashed down around his head from the hat he must’ve worn while doing chores.
The look in his eyes is smoldering. It says that he knows what I look like naked and how I sound when I come.
All true, but his gaze heats like he wants to do it all again.
The guy is insatiable.
So fucking hot.
I toss my phone on the counter. “Stanford wants to change the schedule.” I cross my arms. “He’s pissy because I’m not at the lodge to wait on him hand and foot.”
“Then he can suck it.” He crosses to me and plants his mouth on mine. The mint on his tongue is the same as mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, desire kindling in my belly. If I was wearing underwear, I’d dampen them again.
My body is primed for him. That look is all it takes, and I’m ready. Will it ever be like this with anyone else? Do I want it to be?
My phone vibrates against the counter, and keeps going. Someone’s calling.
He releases my mouth and I peek at the screen. Stanford.
“Ugh. He can wait.”
A mischievous gleam enters Durban’s dark eyes. “Answer it.”
“It’s fine. I’m not at his beck and call.” I am, but I can take a few bucks off the invoice. Durban will make it worth it.
The phone keeps vibrating. He turns me to face the counter and grips my hips. Tingles explode between my legs. My ass is right against his crotch. He reaches over me and taps the answer button.
My mouth drops open. “Wha—”
“Hello?” Stanford snaps. “Campbell.”
The waistband of my pants slides down my hips, and I suck in a breath. Durban hisses. He’s discovered I’m not wearing underwear.
“Hello?” Irritation is ripe in his voice.
I can’t believe Durban answered. “Y-yes?”
My pants pool around my feet, and Durban nudges my feet farther apart. Hot hands land on my bare skin and skim to the front. My eyelids flutter.
“Where the hell are you?” Stanford asks.
Durban’s fingers tighten on my skin and a low growl only I can hear emanates from him. He strokes his finger through my pussy lips and I jerk. I’m so sensitive from last night, but I’m primed for another round.
“I’m . . .” What was my excuse again? “Billings. I’m in Billings.”
“With who?”
Durban moves my hair to the side with one hand, the fingers of his other hand slicking through my pussy and grazing my clit. I vibrate with need. I rock back, bumping against the hard ridge behind his fly.
What’d Stanford ask? Oh, yes. “Um, a friend.”
“Who do you know in Billings?”
Durban skims his lips over the nape of my neck. “Tell him it’s none of his goddamn business.” He speaks low, but I can’t promise Stanford didn’t hear it. The stress of dealing with Stanford and his controlling ways is no competition against what Durban’s making me feel.
I’ll use it, just like I’m supposed to. “Your message said you wanted to change the . . .” I bite my lip to keep from groaning. Durban and his wicked finger circle my clit. I’m so fucking wet, a drop runs down my thigh. “The training. You want to change the time?”
The drag of Durban’s zipper is loud in the room, but I can’t summon enough concern about Stanford hearing it.
“Are you alone?” my ex asks.
None of his business. “What time would you like to meet?”
The broad head of Durban’s erection prods against my cunt and I tip forward, giving him more room to work.
“Noon,” Stanford snaps.
I hiss as Durban enters me in one smooth thrust. My body clenches around him, greedy and wanton. “T-tight turnaround.” God, I sound like I’m out for a run.
Or like I’m getting fucking while trying to act professional.
Durban strums my clit while steadily pounding in and out of me. This isn’t some marathon sex session. I’m going to come in record time, and it’ll be while Stanford’s listening if I don’t get him off the phone.
“I can do one.” The last word comes out on a whimper.
“Are you okay?”
“Just getting ready for the day.”
“A bit late in the morning, isn’t it?”
“God, yes.” My cheeks burn. I’m right at the peak.
Durban keeps the pressure on my nub, but he brings me against his chest, with his hand at the base of my neck. “Don’t let him hear you come.” His hot breath tickles my ear, and it’s like there’s a power line between my earlobe and pussy. “That’s for me alone.”
“I’m paying you for a full day,” Stanford insists.
Durban’s grinding into me, his grunts quiet.
“I’m doing my job.” I gasp, fighting to get this last sentence out before I hang up on him.
I’m soaked and the suction between our bodies is growing louder.
“My contract doesn’t give you access to me for the entire twenty-four hours of the day.
If you’d like more time, you need to talk to January first.”
There’s a sharp inhale.
I suck in another breath. My whole body is tight, my climax hammering to break free. “See you at one.”
I slap the phone just as a “Yes! Durban!” rips from my throat. Pleasure rams into me and my legs go weak. I shudder through my orgasm.
“Fuck, Belle. So fucking good.” He releases inside me, filling me with heat. He rests his head on my shoulder, his hips kicking with small spasms. “So fucking good.”
When logic returns, I check my phone. Good. I hung up correctly.
What would I have done if Stanford had overheard? It’s none of his concern and he wouldn’t know who I was with—except I screamed Durban while I came.
Okay. Our secret deal is still intact. My ex might be suspicious, but my sex life won’t be the talk of the wedding, which probably would make them think I’m terrible at my job for some messed-up reason.
Durban lays another kiss on my nape. “Is he always that fucking rude to you?”
“Lately, yes. He’s getting worse.”
Durban pulls out of me. Before he tucks himself away, he squats and lifts my pants back into place. “He knows you were fucking someone.”
I adjust the waistband. “I don’t think so. I didn’t sound normal, but—”
He zips himself up. “A man’s going to remember what you sound like when you’re about to come.” He spins me around to give me a lingering kiss. “I’m never going to forget.”
He doesn’t have to. I could remind him for the rest of our lives.
Where did that come from?
My very real desire for this to be more. I push my hair back. I’m getting way ahead of myself. Wedding first. Then, maybe . . . No impulsive moves. I’m sticking to the plan. “You made muffins.”
“I’m going to make some eggs and bacon to go with them.” He checks the clock. I have a couple of hours before I should be back at the lodge to get ready for lessons. “Training is going to be stressful after that call.”
I frown. “Yeah. I guess Stanford’s not getting laid enough to reduce his stress.”
“It’s the quality, not the frequency.”
I run my hand down his hard chest. “Good thing you’ve got both covered.”
“You’re going to be wound up after the lessons.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, hope surging. Is he asking what I think he is? “Yes. And after the cake tasting.”
“I don’t want to fall down on my end of the bargain.”
This time, the sting of being reminded of the bargain isn’t there. Is he using it as an excuse to spend more time with me? “You’ll be in this big house, all alone.”
“Seems I should have some company tonight. And you should work off some stress.”
A grin breaks free. “I’ll bring a change of clothes this time.”
“You can keep skipping the underwear.”