Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
VIKING
“That motherfucker called me,” I snap into the phone.
Bullet doesn’t say anything immediately. I hear him hum, but he otherwise stays quiet, at least for a moment. When he does speak, I’m surprised by the words. Not just the fact that he did it, but that he didn’t warn me about it. That’s what shocks the shit out of me.
“I know. I gave him your number.”
Narrowing my eyes, I look straight ahead at the bakery. The women are starting to move around the store. I don’t know what they’re talking about or looking at exactly, but I can tell that whatever it is, judging by their body language, it’s exciting.
I’m not even sure how to respond to Bullet’s words. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I let out a hiss.
“Are you going to explain why exactly?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
There’s got to be a reason. And I would hope to fuck it’s a good one, too.
I’m not so sure, though. At this point, anything is possible.
I don’t know what the fuck would go through his mind that he wouldn’t tell me that Paul would be calling me.
That shit caught me off guard, and that’s not cool at all.
“Do I need to?” he asks.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I look down at my boots, then shift it back up to the window.
“I would fucking think so,” I grind out. “Since I have not the first goddamn clue as to why.”
“For this right here.”
I like how Bullet thinks he’s being fucking funny.
I don’t find him the least bit comical, though.
I’m glad he’s not here in front of me because I could throw down about this shit.
I’m not sure if this is a test or what, but I don’t like any part of what he’s playing at.
I don’t respond to him, either, because I think he’s being fucking ridiculous right now.
“To see how you feel about her, or rather about him talking to you about her.”
So it is a test.
Well, fuck that shit.
“I don’t know what you think you’re discovering or what you’re playing at, but you can forget about me taking part in any of it.”
He’s silent before he clears his throat, and I can only hope he’s rethinking his little plan or any future ones that he may be thinking about. Because, no thank you; I do not wish to participate.
“Why do you give a shit that he called you?” Bullet asks. “And be fucking honest. It’s not because I didn’t warn you; it’s because of what he said. You wanted to brace to talk to the man whose fiancée you’re protecting? Why?”
A growl slowly rolls up my chest, then my throat, and finally comes out of my mouth. He hears it, I know he does, because he actually fucking chuckles. The asshole. Instead of calling him on anything, I decide this conversation isn’t worth my time.
“Don’t hand my number out to anyone who doesn’t need it.”
Ending the call, I shove my phone in my back pocket and decide that I’m done for today. Whatever else Lainey needs to do in her shop, she can tackle in the morning. Hell, I might even fucking help her.
I walk toward the shop and only stop when the front door of the bakery swings open and the women flood outside and onto the sidewalk—all of them except the one I want to see. But it’s Posey who stops in front of me, directly in front of me, which surprises me.
Tipping my head down, I tilt it to the side and take her in.
She’s obviously all fired up about something; I can see it in her eyes.
They’re wild and pissed as hell all at the same time.
I cross my arms over my chest, bracing for what’s to come.
I do know that I’d rather deal with all these old ladies peppering me with questions than Paul, the fucker.
“I told Lainey, but I thought I would share with you, too. The information may or may not be useful. Do with it what you will, but Ivy always writes an out into every contract he creates. This one won’t be any different. You know, if things were to change.”
Her words are interesting. “And Lainey said what?” I ask.
She shakes her head once, her gaze flicking from mine to her feet, but she doesn’t bring it back up, and that’s when I realize what Lainey has said.
She doesn’t want out. That’s fine. As much as I wish we could have a wonderful life together, I don’t think I could make her happy.
Not in the long run—I wouldn’t know how.
“You know what, don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter anyway,” I state.
I begin to move past them. Thankfully, they step to the side to allow it, but not before I feel fingers wrap around my wrist to halt me. Dipping my chin, I look at those fingers, then slowly slide my gaze up the arm it’s attached to, before I find her gaze.
It’s Millie.
“She’s my sister,” she whispers. “She belongs here with us. I know maybe she’s not ready to accept that, or to see that. But she does. Be there for her when she’s ready because I know you’re the one she ultimately dreams of being with.”
Without another word, her hand falls from mine, and I watch as the women all walk away, as if they are one single unit. Shifting my attention back to the bakery, I reach for the door, tugging it open before I slip inside and flip the lock into place behind me.
I didn’t tell Millie that I want to keep Lainey. I didn’t tell her how much I wish I could lock her away in my room. Keep her there forever. I wish I could love her, make love to her. I wish I could give her babies and make her not just my old lady, but also my wife.
I don’t know if I’m capable of any of that. And I won’t take her with me to just fuck her over in the end. She deserves a shot at happiness. Even if I’m selfishly taking advantage of her right now, which is exactly what I’m doing while saying it’s to make her happy.
Really, it was because I was hoping the reality of her wasn’t going to be as good as I’d imagined. I was wrong. So goddamn wrong. The reality of Lainey-Rose is better than I could have ever fathomed.
Lainey-Rose is a sexy, beautiful, breathless dream come true.
LAINEY
He’s standing across the bakery from me, and he looks like he wants to eat me, like I’m fresh-baked bread and he can’t wait to sink his teeth into me. And I want him to do all of that and more.
Right here—right now.
I open my mouth to ask him if everything is okay, but the words don’t come out. Instead, my breath hitches as he begins to make his way toward me. One foot then the other, step by step, until he’s directly in front of me, so close that I can feel his body heat against my own.
Tipping my head back, I look up into his eyes. “Gunnar,” I exhale.
His lips twitch into a smirk. I think he’s going to speak, like maybe he’s got something to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers his head, and his mouth touches mine. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, but he does lean down and wrap his hands around the backs of my thighs before he picks me up.
“I’m going to fuck you, Lainey.”
“Gunnar,” I murmur.
He grunts, carrying me toward the kitchen. Thankfully, I know there aren’t any windows here, so there won’t be prying eyes. His eyes focus on mine as he drops my ass on the edge of the counter.
I’ve made a lot of bread and desserts on this countertop, but I’ve never had sex here. I wouldn’t either if I weren’t shutting down. Because nobody wants sex baguettes. Gunnar breaks me out of my thoughts as he unbuttons and unzips my pants.
Lifting my hips, I allow him to tug them down my legs, along with my panties. Reaching between us, I tug at his belt, unbuckling him, my eyes focused on his, then slide his underwear down and wrap my fingers around his length.
He’s hard and ready.
Perfect and yum.
I feel his fingers between my legs. My head falls back, and I stop stroking him because, oh my god, talk about yum. He chuckles, his lips on the side of my throat as he curls his fingers inside me, then his thumb hits that spot.
That brilliantly perfect spot.
Yes.
My hand falls away from his length, gripping the edges of the counter as I anticipate him sliding inside me. As good as his hands feel, I know without a doubt that his dick would feel a million times better.
“Gunnar,” I whimper. “Please.”
He chuckles and leans forward, then his lips touch the center of my throat. His thumb makes another circle against my clit before he slips his fingers from inside me. I widen my legs with anticipation of what’s to come, because I know it’s going to be good… so damn good.
So. Damn. Good.
Because every single time, it’s been that good. No, better than good. The best. Not that I have a lot of experience, but I know it’ll never be better than this. How could it be when I’ll never love another person as much as I love Gunnar?
When he thrusts inside me, stretching me the way only he can, God, he feels so good, hard and smooth. I want him to stay here forever. Right here. My breath hitches when his eyes flick to mine, and his lips twitch into a smirk.
“Feel good, baby?”
I could lie. But what would be the point? Lifting my hands, I curl my fingers around his biceps. His hands grip my hips, tugging me forward slightly so the edge of the counter practically cuts my ass in half. Right now, I wouldn’t care if it did.
“Better than good, Gunnar.”
And that is no lie.
Better than good. The best, actually, but I don’t tell him that. He’s got a big enough head. He shifts his face closer to mine, his lips touching my own as he begins to move inside me.
He doesn’t deepen the kiss.
His lips press against mine as he moves in and out of my body, his pelvis grinding against my clit with each downward stroke. My nails dig into the leather cut that covers his shoulders.
I’m close.
So close, although I think that at this point, I’m in a perpetual state of being on edge. Especially when it comes to Gunnar. God, his name is hot as shit, especially with his height and everything that is… him.
He rolls his hips, his pelvis grinding against my clit, bringing me closer and closer to my release. I think I might actually scream; I can feel it all building up inside me. I climb higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge.
I’m about to fall over.
I’m so close that I bite back the whimper that threatens to escape when I feel his lips touch the skin just below my ear.
Then he whispers, and when he does, those words are my complete undoing. I bring him closer to me, my hips lifting to meet his. My body begging and finally receiving its release.
And then it happens.
“Come all over me, Lainey. I need to feel you, baby. Please, fuck, come.”
It’s the please.
That’s what does it.
And then I do just that. My head flies back, and I come—hard.