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little fighter.”
There was a new word I was starting to associate with everything Clara Milton. Addictive.
Clara Milton deserved a pink backdrop to the bakery she’d always wanted. She deserved probably everything she’d asked for.
“He’d fuck you if you gave him the chance.” “Oh, he does when I do.” Her smile was saccharine as she shrugged. “Still doesn’t make him my boyfriend.”
“Are you sweet or spicy, babe? A pushover or a fighter?” I pulled back when she didn’t answer right away. Her gaze glinted with embarrassment or anger or both. “Should we see? You as sweet as this chocolate or not?” I was pushing her to the edge. I knew that. Maybe I wanted her to fold and step away. She needed to. She needed to understand her place, but instead she stepped up to me and reached into the saucepan, swiping up melted chocolate on her finger and then dragging it across her collarbone. “I don’t know, Dominic.” She whispered, “Want to taste me and see?”
“When I said I wanted to taste you, I didn’t mean your neck, baby. Or these fuckable lips.”
“Spread your legs wider, baby. I want full access. This is mine now. Mine to taste over and over.”
“Sweet and Spicy just might be a fitting name for this bakery. Fuck, you taste good.”
“Need another orgasm, little fighter?”
“God, you’re disgustingly beautiful,”
“Go to bed, cupcake. Please.”
“Not before half the world saw your ass,” he pointed out without hesitation. “It’s my ass to show off,” I threw back. “Not if I have something to do with it.” “Oh, shut up,” I said as I whipped the box out of the bag. When I lifted the cover, I murmured “Shut up” for a whole different reason. Beautiful new Christian Louboutin shoes sparkled up at me with what I’m sure were expensive diamonds. The next bag and orange box had something even more expensive. Beautiful leather, bright green and expertly crafted. I smoothed my hand over it as I murmured, “Shut the fuck up.”
“You said you don’t kiss women, Dominic.” She was right. I’d never wanted to be involved with anyone since Natya, but I found myself wanting to now. “I kiss my girlfriend.”
We might have been fake dating, but I was going to kiss her for real every fucking time.
Did you hire a team to paint? Me: I’m capable of doing it myself. Dominic: Hold off until I’m back. Me: Do you think I can’t? We have a month and a half until we open, Dominic. Dominic: I’m aware. I’ll help you when I get back, then you can fuck me to thank me.
“And without the makeup, I see the imperfections that make you perfect.” He said it so easily, in that decisive tone that was meant to propel everything forward without emotion. “Huh?” “With nothing to define you, you’re just like everyone else, Clara. Your freckles, the way you blush, the way your lashes are a hint of red is what defines you. You’re painting over a perfect canvas.”
“This dress accentuates every curve on your body. You know all this is mine, right? Every single curve? It’s mine, and only mine.” I felt his length against my ass as he continued, “I don’t need other men enjoying the curves of my woman in this dress this much.”
“She’s not the one I want on her knees,” I murmured, my hand going to the slit in her dress. Her pussy had dripped arousal past her panty line and onto her thigh. “Do you know how much I fuck my hand while thinking of your pussy, baby? How hard my cock gets imagining how tight you’ll be for me?”
don’t know if I can take all of you.” “You’ll take all of me, baby. You’ll learn.”
“Eyes on me always, little fighter. Make it known who owns my cock.”
“Please make sure to keep my card on file,” I told the saleswoman and then turned to Natya as I said, “in case my future wife ever wants anything else here, got it?”
I was falling for Clara Milton, and I had to make damn sure I stopped. Love between her and me would end up being a battlefield, and I didn’t want her wounded.
I was. Truly and utterly mad for Clara Milton, and it had started to feel a lot like love when I thought of her as my wife. I repeated those words over and over again in my head. My future wife. It had a nice fucking ring to it.
“Your girl tell you she’s my girl now?”
“She’s my girl. So remove your fucking arm from her shoulder.”
“I’m not sharing you, cupcake. I’ve told you that before.” Then he proceeded to kiss me like he was laying claim every which way. I couldn’t stop him either. I didn’t even want to try. The kiss was too good. And that was a problem.
“Like what’s your favorite color and why you wear dresses that are so damn hard to get off when your boss and boyfriend likes easy access.”
“No, it’s not fraud. That’s just my future wife throwing a tantrum. Go ahead and run the bills through,” I grumbled and clicked off the phone.
“You’re not everyone. You’re my future wife, remember? You’re the girl who gets to spend over a half a mil on fucking flowers. So, use the name you always do when you’re talking to your future husband, or I’ll punish you for that too.”
“It means nothing to me without you healthy. We’ll hire someone.”
