Chapter 36 – Brinley
brINLEY
W hen I get back to my apartment, I’m greeted by my favorite sight—Beau’s muscular back shifting under his white T-shirt as he reaches for something on a high shelf in the kitchen. Even better, the aroma of something delicious floats from the stove.
I should be distant, keeping him away from me, the lingering purchase of the Copper Cup hanging between us.
I need him to take an honest accounting of our relationship and decide whether everything he had to give up is worth it.
But after the mindfuck of a day I just had, I give in to my desire to just let my boyfriend cook for me.
“I could get used to coming home to this,” I sigh, coming up behind Beau and wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Reformed-rake-cooks-for-bookshop-owner is officially my favorite trope. Five stars.”
He chuckles. “Careful. I’ll start thinking you only like me for my food.”
“But I do only like you for your food.”
“Liar. You also like me for my body.”
I grin. “Very true.”
“Figured I’d make you a nice eggplant parm for your first day back in business. How was everything at the shop? If it sucked, there’s a bottle of wine open right by the fridge.”
“It was fine, actually.” I pour myself a glass anyway. “We had a ton of customers, and a lot of them are Peppermint fans.”
“Whoa, really?”
I fill him in on everything while he chops tomatoes. All the people who were drawn to my story of revenge and regret, and my idea on building the Copper Cup into a romance-focused bookstore.
“You have to do it!” he says immediately. “Half your store is already dedicated to romance, anyway. You might as well fully commit.”
“What if it drives away some of my customers?”
“It might. I’m sure there’s a small group that doesn’t read romance and doesn’t come for the coffee.
But there are also tons of customers who don’t know you exist yet, who will come when they learn that the Copper Cup has the books they love.
It’s always good to find a niche as a brick-and-mortar store. I think your instinct is right, Brin.”
“I hope so.” I sip my wine. “What if I pivot and I lose the whole business, though?”
“It could happen, but that’s a risk with any small business. What if you pivot and become even more wildly successful than you already are?”
“You have a lot of faith in me.”
“Because I’ve seen how you run your business, and I know from experience how hard it is to keep a place afloat. You know what you’re doing.”
“I hope so.”
There’s a loaf of focaccia on the table, partially sliced next to a small bowl of olive oil for dipping. I grab a slice eagerly and moan with pleasure as I take a bite. It’s oily, airy, and delicious. “This bread is amazing, Beau. See, I told you you could bake!”
“Actually, my mother made it,” he says.
I freeze mid-chew. It doesn’t make sense that I would even care about him seeing his mom. But it makes me wonder something I haven’t let myself think about yet. “Does she know about us?”
He nods but looks away. “Yeah.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, the pit in my stomach just grows larger.
“Is she…okay with it?”
“She will be,” he says firmly. “I told her there’s only one woman for me, and to stop throwing Giulia at me.”
I have a sinking feeling I know the answer, but I still have to ask. “How did she take that?”
He sighs, which tells me all I need to know. “It’s nothing personal, Brin. She doesn’t know you like I do, and she thinks she knows what’s right for me. She’ll come around eventually.”
I take a long gulp of my wine.
Then, Beau’s phone lights up as a timer goes off. He swipes the timer away and opens the oven, and my heart skips a beat when I see his lock-screen.
It’s my face. I’m smiling and a little sunburned across my nose.
I can tell from the dress I’m wearing that the photo is from last year’s trip.
I’m smiling and laughing, my face practically glowing in the Tuscan sun.
I look so beautiful through Beau’s lens that I barely recognize myself.
It’s such a small thing, my photo on his phone, but it’s a public acknowledgment of our relationship that would have been impossible a week ago.
It also reminds me of the last picture on his lock-screen—him and the guys, laughing and toasting each other at Cat’s wedding. A reminder of what he had to give up for me.
My friends are tentatively letting me back in, while Beau’s still a pariah. The Peppermint reveal turned out to be fantastic for my business, while it completely tarnished Beau’s reputation. He’s even arguing with his mother. Beau’s the one who’s been punished for the articles I wrote.
I turn away before he can see tears in my eyes. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I fill it with water from the sink. I sip it, willing it to stop my hands from shaking, or my legs from feeling like they’re going to collapse.
“Hey.” I hear the noise of the stove clicking off, then Beau’s hands land on my hips. He spins me around and holds my face in one hand. “Don’t. Don’t run away from me, Brin.”
I swallow down a sob. After five years, he knows me too well. He sees the walls I’m half-heartedly building to keep him out, and he’s going to tear them down.
“I can’t,” I whisper. What’s broken between us can’t be fixed with words, not when words are what got them here. Words are the I love you and the Peppermint confession and the building fight and five years of rules built out of language.
Somehow, Beau sees that. He slides his hands down my sides, his touch teasing and light. It feels beyond good, which only makes me loathe myself more. I shouldn’t get to feel this way, not when he’s so miserable.
That doesn’t stop Beau from moving his hands down over my hips. ”Let me make it better, Brin,” he mutters. “I want to make you feel good.”
I shake my head. I don’t deserve his gentleness or his love, not after the wreckage I’ve made of his life.
“You don’t have to say anything.” His nose moves along my shoulder and up to my ear. He nips at the sensitive skin lobe. “Just let me take care of you for a few minutes.”
It’s selfish, but I want to let him. I want him to make every thought in my head disappear, the way only he can do. I want him to drive away all the guilt and misery. I want him to erase the past few weeks, few months, hell, the past decade. I crave the mindlessness I know he can give me.
So because I’m weak, I let him sweep me up into his arms and carry me to my bedroom.
He kicks the door shut behind him, then sets me on the edge of the bed.
When he grabs the hem of my sweater, I dutifully raise my hands so he can take it off.
His eyes grow hazy as they sweep over my bare skin.
He unhooks my bra next, pulling it off and kneeling so he can nuzzle against my breasts.
His mouth moves patiently over the swells of my breasts, like he intends to kiss every inch of them at least three times.
His hot, open-mouthed kisses send a slow, relentless trickle of heat to my core.
My thighs press toward each other automatically, desperate for friction, but I can’t close them with Beau still kneeling between them.
He closes his hands around my inner thighs, pressing hard enough to bruise as he keeps me from chasing any pleasure he doesn’t give me.
Beau knows my body better than anyone, maybe even me. He knows exactly how to drag me through a slow burn of pleasure toward a raging bonfire. My blood feels hot with want. It courses through me until my skin feels sensitized everywhere.
I slide my fingers into his hair in a failed attempt to guide his mouth up toward mine. He moans his satisfaction at being exactly where he is, and after a few minutes, I give up. Let him worship me, if that’s what he wants.
“My beautiful Brinley,” he murmurs against one nipple, his hot breath making it tight with anticipation. He frees my left thigh to pinch the other hardened bud. “You’re so?—”
He cuts himself off, like he doesn’t have the words for it. But he growls before he sucks my nipple hard into his mouth. I whimper pathetically. He hasn’t even touched my clit, and already I feel so fucking close to coming.
His fingers hook at the edge of my leggings and pull them down over my hips and down my feet. Tossing my clothes aside, his eyes land between my legs.
“Oh, Brin. I knew you’d be this wet for me.” He draws a teasing line along the crease where my thigh meets my lower belly. “You always are.”
He traces his fingers over my pussy, teasing little touches that make me squirm against the bed.
The dampness gathering between my legs grows until I’m scared I might drip onto the bed.
The whole time, Beau stares at the place where he’s touching me like he’s never seen anything so fascinating.
My face blushes with embarrassment, but this is Beau, and he’s already seen every inch of me and found it worthy.
I push aside the urge to beg him to move.
I let him see me.
One long finger finds my entrance, sliding into the second knuckle and making us both groan. He slowly pushes deeper, lowering his head to brush his lips against my clit. Just that light touch sends a rush of wetness to my cunt. I know Beau feels it because he growls against my skin.
Just let me take care of you.
Beau always takes care of me. He’s so careful with my body, with my feelings, with my heart. Even buying the Copper Cup building was about caring for me.
I suck in a harsh breath when Beau’s tongue replaces his lips on my core.
He pushes a second finger into me, fucking me with his hand while he laps at my bundle of nerves.
His rhythm is perfectly precise, and I can practically see how focused he is on his ultimate goal—making me come.
Making my body be honest when words fail me.