Chapter 13
ISABELLA
C ould I be any more out of control?
Who the hell asks their faux boyfriend about sex positions on the sidewalk outside their business establishment?
Me, apparently.
I think that kiss may have broken something in my mind, because now I’m questioning everything.
Because that kiss — that kiss — was unlike anything I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience.
I felt it in my toes. My hair may have been standing on end, but I don’t know.
My scalp was buzzing, and I couldn’t get close enough to Sebastian.
Is this how kissing is supposed to be? If that’s the case, then I definitely need to kiss him more often.
Which is why I asked my question.
I haven’t had that many sexual partners, and they were all similar in bed.
One or two positions. It was always fairly quick, and I rarely had an orgasm.
If Sebastian can kiss like that, I know sex would be out of this world.
But is he vanilla like every man I’ve ever been with?
Missionary for a minute? If so, I’ll pass. No thank you.
Please don’t be boring in bed, Sebastian.
What the hell am I thinking? I may never find out.
“How about we discuss this after dinner, amor ? You can think of more questions in the meantime.” His tone is low, seductive, and a shiver dances down my spine.
“I think I need that answer right now,” I say timidly.
I won’t be able to focus until I know. I watch porn.
I know what’s out there, but I’m so scared to speak up that I never tell my partner what I’d like to try.
But I’m not like that with Sebastian. In my soul, I know he won’t think less of me when I ask him questions.
As a family walks past us, joyfully commenting on how cute the town is, Sebastian grabs my hand and pulls me off to the side. He crowds me against a brick wall on the side of the bakery, his thumb finding my lower lip again.
“Are you worried about how things might … go in the bedroom, Isabella?” he asks softly, and I nod. His lips twitch as he smiles. “Are there things you may want to … try in the bedroom, and you’re worried I’ll think less of you?”
I nod again. I should be worried about how well he sees through me. Yet somehow, all I feel is relief that finally , someone is thinking about me and my feelings.
“My sweet girl,” Sebastian murmurs, dragging his thumb along my lip before he dips it inside, pulling my jaw open.
Hooded eyes watch as my tongue darts out to lick the tip of his thumb, and the answering growl is all I need to hear before I’m circling his thumb.
“I will never demean or condemn you for asking questions of a sexual nature. You can always trust me. In regards to whether or not you’d always be underneath me, that’s entirely up to you, and what you’re comfortable with.
We don’t need a bed to be intimate. Hell, this is intimate as fuck right now, because all I’m thinking about is you dropping to your knees and taking me as deep into your throat as possible. ”
Good God, I’d totally do that if I didn’t know I’d be arrested.
Sebastian chuckles, his gaze telling me he knows exactly where my mind went. “Love that you’re into that, Isabella. Sex isn’t a one-way street. We both have input, and we both have to be comfortable. If there are things you want to try, tell me. I’ll make it happen.”
“Really?” I whisper.
“Really. And there is no rush. I’m playing the long-game, mi Reina . I want you, but only when you’re ready.”
Mind whirling, I head back into the bakery.
I’m almost done with my large Friday morning standing order.
I usually don’t take orders this big, but I couldn’t turn this profit away.
I bring in extra help on Thursdays so I can prep as much as possible.
Every day I drop off baked goods for Everlasting, and on rare occasions, I’ll bake a cake for someone in my family, but other than that, I don’t take special orders.
I simply don’t have the time. And as much as I love this bakery, I already spend too much time here.
“What the hell, Isabella? Where have you been?” Trace shouts. “Sebastian is gonna kill — oh. Hey Prez.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna have words later,” Sebastian drawls, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the door frame.
The lighting makes him look borderline evil, dressed almost entirely in black, as rays of light cast an eerie glow around him.
His eyes catch mine as I walk behind the counter. “You good, sweetheart?”
“I — I’m good,” I stammer, clearing my throat.
It’s not like I can tell him what I’m really thinking.
Hey, Sebastian, can you lock us in the bathroom and do all the wicked things that I apparently need more than life itself?
That wouldn’t be embarrassing to say in front of Trace at all.
I’d never be able to show my face in the Clubhouse again.
I watch Sebastian glower at Trace before stepping backward, closing the door as he goes. I sigh as I blatantly check him out as he walks away. The man has an amazing ass.
“Wow. Subtle,” Ava, my employee says, a glint in her eye.
Ava is nineteen, and working a couple of odd jobs this summer while home from college.
When she leaves in a few weeks, I’ll need to hire someone who only wants a few hours a week, which is difficult.
I can only pay minimum wage, and certain times of the year mean we’re busier than normal. Ava has been a godsend this summer.
“What?” I attempt to reply innocently, but my voice betrays me. It’s all high pitched and borderline squealing.
Ava snorts. “Do you remember the list you gave me this morning of things I could do around here if there was a lull in customers?”
“Yes?”
“One of them was cleaning the interior side of the windows.”
“Did you finish? Oh shit. You saw.” I cover my face with my hands. “God, I’m so mortified.”
“You shouldn’t be. It was hot. I’m low-key jealous. Sebastian Garcia is one fine looking man,” Ava says, appreciation written all over her face.
I gape at her. “You’re nineteen!”
She shrugs. “And?”
“He’s thirty-six!”
“It’s still legal. Besides, he gives strong Daddy vibes.”
“Ew. Gross. Just … no.” I screw up my face in distaste. But there’s an element of anger simmering beneath the surface. How dare this twit waltz in here and make these comments about Sebastian. He’s mine!
Wait.
He’s mine.
Holy shit.
He’s mine. Sebastian Garcia is mine. It’s like the heavens just opened up, shining every light known to man onto me as I have this epiphany. Why have I taken this long to realize this?
I look at Trace, who gives me a knowing look. “We’re closing early.”
He nods. “You cool if I take what you’ve got for our order for tomorrow? It’ll save our regular guy from driving out here to pick it up. I figure you’ll be up most of the night with Seb anyway, so you’ll want to come in later tomorrow.”
“What order?” I ask, confused.
Trace stares at me as his mouth drops open. “Oh, fuck. He’s really going to murder me now.”
I’m perplexed. I only have one order. RMRRMC.
Oh my fucking God.
My eyes closing, I keep my voice level and controlled as I ask Trace one question. “What’s the name of your MC club?”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Tell me,” I demand.
“Rocky Mountain Range Riders MC,” he confesses. RMRRMC.
“I am going to murder him!” I hiss.
Trace puts up his hands in surrender. “Listen, I can’t let you actually kill the guy. He was trying to support you, and he knew you’d be pissed if he did it himself.”
“Your last statement is why he shouldn’t have done it in the first place!” I shout. Tearing into the kitchen, I grab my bag out of the safe, ushering Ava out. “Everyone, out. We’re closing early.”
A quick glance at the cute cupcake clock one of my brother’s gave me a few years ago tells me I’m only closing an hour early, which is fine with me.
I push Trace out the door, stopping to flip my open sign to closed, then turn off the lights and close the door.
Absolutely seething, I put out my hand. “Give me your keys.”
Trace has the decency to look guilty. “How am I supposed to get home?”
“Not my problem,” I say, thrusting my hand impatiently at him.
“You know what? No. I’m not giving you my keys.
I drove you, so either get in the passenger seat, or you can walk home.
” He looks at me defiantly, crossing his arms and widening his stance.
Trace is moderately attractive, standing a couple of inches taller than Sebastian, but has a leaner build.
Light brown hair with a slight curl to it, his blue eyes always light up with wickedness, like he knows a secret, but he’ll never say what it’s about.
Worn blue jeans with holes in the knees flare slightly at the bottom, adjusting to his black combat boots, and the leather cut he wears covers a plain white tee-shirt.
I bet he’s a wet dream to a lot of women.
But right now, he’s just pissing me off.
“Fine,” I tell him. “I will walk.”
“Jesus,” he moans. “Isabella, I can’t let you walk. Please. Just get in the damn truck.”
“Um, I can take her,” Ava offers, waving her keys at the two of us. I grin triumphantly at Trace.
“See? Problem solved. Send someone different tomorrow, Trace, because I’m likely to accidentally shove you in an oven,” I call out as I skip over to Ava.
“I’d like to see you try!” Trace yells back as he gets into his truck. Waiting for Ava and me to climb into her tiny two-door car, he motions for us to pull out first.
“Thank you, Ava. You’re a lifesaver. I want to throttle him right now, but I want to hurt Sebastian even more,” I grumble.
She giggles. “I thought it was pretty dreamy. Pretty romantic, right? How long have you had the Friday morning order? Didn’t you tell me it’s been a few years? He’s down bad for you, girl.”
“He could have been honest about it. Especially now. He told me he’d never lie to me, and that I could trust him. How is this trustworthy?” I ask.