Brooke
Chapter
Twenty-Three
It’s been almost a week since Tony showed up, and I’ve spent every night at Dutton’s. Actual sleeping has been limited, and even though I wake up extra early each day to come to work, I don’t mind the lack of rest one bit.
I walk out of the bakery’s kitchen with a fresh tray of good morning cinnamon rolls just as the front door opens and the man I cannot seem to get off my mind walks through the door.
I didn’t ask him to come here, and yet, here he is, just randomly showing up. There is always a chance he could be here to grab a coffee or a snack, but by the way he’s looking at me, I’m going to confidently say that is not the case today.
God, he’s so freaking pretty, it almost hurts to look at him.
And yet, I just can't stop. Even in a room filled with people chatting, eating, slurping, one look from him makes it feel as if I'm the only one here.
The way his bright green eyes study me, the way they narrow and darken but still shine …
I'm certain that he's thinking of this morning the same way I am. The way I think of every morning since I’ve been in his bed.
God, it feels so good to be held in his arms, feeling his body against mine.
And that look in his eyes right now says he wants it just as bad.
Wiping my hands on my apron after I put the buns away, I step around the display case.
My hands are just itching to touch him. My body is craving him, and I just … I need Dutton.
Someone calls his name, and the trance between us is broken. But I still follow him across the room.
Dutton ruffles his niece's hair and then does something he’s never done before. He leans forward, one hand coming to my hip to pull me toward him as he kisses my cheek.
“Hi,” he whispers in my ear. I melt under his touch.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
“Oh, wow, you two are pretty cute,” Layla says, her excited gaze bouncing between the two of us.
Gavin groans and stands quickly. “Let’s go before you say anything that might cause me to get an earful from your uncle.”
“No, I like watching them. It’s weird to see one of the adults in my family falling in—”
Gavin’s hand slides around his daughter's mouth.
“And that is my second cue to get out of here.” He nudges his daughter to start moving. “But for the record, Layla isn’t the only one observing you right now.” His head tilts from side to side and that’s when I notice that almost every occupied seat in the bakery is watching us.
As if it were planned, they all look away quickly, pretending they hadn't been staring at us this entire time.
“Thanks for the warning,” Dutton growls at his brother.
“Hey, I'm not the one who walked in here with eyes that said—”
“All right, goodbye.” Dutton cuts him off. Gavin laughs as he and his daughter leave. They wave through the window, and I wave back.
“Did you come in here for something specific?” I ask Dutton. Slowly, he turns to look at me.
“I did.”
But he doesn't say anything else. I bite my lip and start cleaning off the table where his brother and niece had sat.
“Are you going to tell me what it is, or are you just going to stand there and watch me?”
“I haven't decided yet.” His words make me blush.
But then he grabs the cup I wasn't able to hold in my hands and follows me.
I push open the door that leads to the kitchen with my butt, Dutton right behind.
We set the dirty plates and cups down. And just when I think that we're going to go back out to the main area, he grabs my wrist and pulls me into the office, closing the door behind us, and then pulls the little blinds to my window down.
Sammie is already gone for today; everything is already prepped and baked. I like to sell out so that everything is fresh each morning.
“What are you doing?” I say. He cages me against the door and presses his forehead to mine.
“I've been thinking about you nonstop today.”
He pulls back just slightly and then dips his head so that he can look me in the eye.
His thumb brushes against my lower lip.
“God, I can't stop thinking about these lips.”
“Really?” The word comes out breathless. My heart beats faster.
It feels good to be wanted by him—needed, really, if I’m going by the tone of his voice.
“I've thought about the things I could do to them, the way they felt against my neck and my lips this morning. Hell, the past five days. Books, you’re all I've thought about since I woke up this morning.”
“Is it a bad thing?” I ask. “Because you're all I've thought about, too.”
“It's never a bad thing when you tell me you're thinking about me,” he says, and I suck in a breath. “But to be frank, I don't want to think about anything right now except what I’m about to do to you.”
The last word is barely off his lips before his mouth presses to mine, his tongue swooping in and parting my mouth. His hand reaches around to the back of my neck and threads through my hair, tilting my head back so that he can deepen the kiss.
God, it feels good to kiss him. I've never been kissed like this before Dutton, and I never want to go back. He’s ruined me. And now I know that when you truly like someone, everything about you and something as simple as kissing is so different.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hands moving from my neck, sliding down my shoulders and arms until he gets to my hips.
He bends just enough to circle his hands around my ass and pick me up; I wrap my legs around him.
He turns quickly, plopping me down on my desk.
In a romance novel, he would toss everything off the desk and lay me down.
But my desk isn't dirty enough to do that.
Which is just fine. That gives us more time to get to whatever it is we're about to do.
“How quick do you need to go back out there?” he asks between peppering kisses on my neck.
“Daisy's here. She can handle it while I'm back here.”
“Good. I don't need much time, but I have to taste you. You might be a great baker, but there's nothing as sweet as this pussy.”
Dutton drops to his knees, reaching up to take hold of my leggings, stripping them off my legs with my underwear.
He jerks me to the edge of the desk and takes a taste of me. His tongue licks me slowly until he gets to my clit, where he flicks fast strokes.
“Jesus,” I say, buckling over and grabbing his hair.
I use his head to hold on and then rub my pussy against his face to increase the pressure.
“You want more?” he asks.
“Mmm, I want you.”
“What part of me?”
He looks up, his lips glistening.
“I want you inside of me.”
His brows raise.
“You want me to fuck you in your office?”
I nod.
He stands, unbuckles his pants, and then pulls himself out of his boxers.
“Fuck me fast, Dutton,” I tell him as he lines himself up.
“Whatever you want”—he kisses my lips—“it’s yours.”
And then he slams into me, fucking me with reckless abandon and silencing every single one of my moans with his mouth.
When my orgasm hits, I bite his lips, and he pulls me by my hips, closer and closer, over and over as he slides in and out of me.
He stills, kissing my shoulder as he comes.
After our breathing returns to normal, I start to laugh.
“What?” he asks with a smile.
“I just never thought something like this would happen in my office. Let alone with you.”
His grin is heart-stopping.
“Yeah, and what are your final thoughts on that?”
He tucks himself back into his pants while I put mine back on. Then I press my lips to his again.
“I think I’d be up for it again.”
“Right now?” His eyes widen.
I laugh.
“Another day. Right now, I need to prepare for the festival this weekend.”
He sighs. “I just want to spend the day with you, but I need to get back to work, too.”
I move to the wash station in the kitchen, taking note of his gaze watching me. As soon as I’m done scrubbing, I pull the first bin of strawberries from the fridge and start dicing them up.
Dutton comes up behind me, spins me around, and kisses me one time, his tongue diving into my mouth and stealing my next breath.
I swear, kissing him will never get old. It’s as if each brush of his lips stops time and I get lost in the moment.
Somehow, I manage to keep my hands from touching him, but when he pulls back, I almost fall into him. I don’t want to stop.
He catches me by the shoulders and turns me back to the counter, smacking my ass playfully.
“I’ll see you back at my house tonight."
I nod and watch him walk out the door.
I blow out a breath and return to dicing.
I can’t believe I just had sex in my office. I can’t believe I’m having sex with Dutton. And I sure as heck can't believe how right everything with him feels.
I—
The blade slices across my hand. I wait for the sting. It’s a sharp knife, so it shouldn’t hurt much more than that.
Then the blood rushes out. I slam the knife down, gripping the edge of the counter to hold myself up.
Shit.
That’s a lot of blood.
These strawberries are going to be ruined, and I need them for this weekend.
I reach for the closest towel and wrap it around my finger.
I take one step toward my office and then stop to lean against the counter.
Shit, this hurts.
I glance down, but I can see the blood already soaking through the towel. I close my eyes; I can’t look at it without getting a queasy stomach.
I take a deep breath and make it to my office, close the door and take a seat.
I’m just reaching for my phone when the office door swings open.
“I forgot to tell you that Wren’s birthday dinner is ton—shit, Books.” Dutton rushes to my side and squats to face level. “Where is your first aid kit?”
“The closest one is behind my office door.”
He moves swiftly, opening it and pulling everything out.
“I don’t think we need all that.”
“We might.” Worry laces his eyes. “Let me look at it.”
I remove the towel, and he growls. “You’ll need stitches and then bandage that hand. With it being on the crease like this, it’ll take longer to heal.”
“I just need to apply pressure to it and I’ll be okay.”
“Books.” Dutton gently grabs my chin. “You need stitches.”
I shake my head. “I need to get the strawberries prepped for this weekend’s festival.”
He keeps his eyes on me for a beat. “First we get stitches, then we come back here and you tell me how to prep the strawberries. Deal?”
“Dutton, I can’t ask that of you, plus you said you need to get back to work.”
“What I need is to be here with you.”
“But your job—”
“Will be there when I get back. I’ll call Grace on the way to the clinic.”
I bite my lip as I think about what to say next. Another argument is on my lips when he leans his forehead to mine.
“Just let me take care of you. Please.”
His words soak into my skin and into my heart.
“Okay,” I tell him, and he lets out a breath, kissing my forehead.
“Let’s go before you fall and hurt yourself or do something else crazy.”
I let him walk me out the door, but I don’t tell him my thoughts.
He’s afraid of me falling and hurting myself.
Silly man.
I think I already fell.