He drags his mouth from mine, then trails his lips to my breast, licking over my nipple before sucking it into his mouth. My body arches and my fingers slide through his hair as I silently beg him to continue. When he pulls away once more, my lashes flutter open.
“If you can’t say it again without coming, I’ll make you come over and over until you tell me what you said.”
I keep my mouth closed, and he grins his scary grin once more before moving to my other breast. I do everything I can to control my body’s reaction to him as he manipulates both my breasts with his mouth, teeth, and tongue, and I succeed until he skillfully slides his hand between my legs. The moment he zeros in on my clit with his thumb and thrusts two fingers inside me, I cry out his name and get lost on the waves of euphoria building deep within me. With nothing else to do, I hold on to him, digging my nails into his skin and whimpering into his mouth as he kisses me.
“Tell me what you said.” The words are growled against my lips, and I jerk my head from side to side—not in denial of his request but in shock as the walls of my pussy start to convulse and I come. His fingers slow their invasion, but they never stop completely, which means one orgasm becomes another. He doesn’t give me a chance to recover from another world-altering climax; he settles himself between my legs and thrusts into me hard.
I moan, wrapping myself around him, and breathe, “I can’t. It’s too much.”
“Tell me what you said.” He circles my oversensitive clit, and I shake my head and close my eyes as my pussy ripples around his cock.
“Gus,” I whisper, overwhelmed. It feels like every inch of me is on fire.
“Look at me.”
My lashes flutter open again. I stare into his eyes and see warmth, devotion, and happiness looking back at me. A sense of peace and rightness washes through every cell in my body, and I lean up, placing my lips against his. I tell him the truth, knowing down to my soul that he can handle it. “I think I’m in love with you.”
“Thank God,” he hisses, right before he captures my mouth and links our hands together, lifting them over my head. His weight settles heavily on me, and his thrusts turn lazy and slow as he slides in and out. I hold him with my legs around his hips, and we come simultaneously, clinging to one another until the waves of ecstasy begin to fade away.
With both of us breathing heavily and my heart beating so hard it feels like it might come right out of my chest, he lifts up, holding his body above mine with my hands still captured in his grasp against the bed. “I don’t think I love you, sweetheart. I just straight up love you.”
His words cause overwhelming happiness to bubble up from within me, and I force him to let me go, then wrap my arms around him while shoving my face into his neck. Tears I can’t hold back fill my eyes, and a quiet sob slides up the back of my throat.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers, peppering soft kisses on my chest and neck, then cheeks and lips. I fight back my tears and attempt to focus on his handsome face, not quite believing this guy is mine.
“You love me?” I sniffle.
“Yes,” he says softly as his fingers move along the side of my face.
“I love you too,” I admit, and his expression fills with tenderness. I lose his look as he lowers his head, but I feel it as he kisses me, which is even better.
“I wish you didn’t have to go to work,” he grates out, annoyed, pulling away to rest his forehead against mine.
“I know,” I agree, sounding out of breath and just as frustrated as him.
“I understand why you’re being choosy, but you need to hire someone, sweetheart.”
“I know.” I feel a little off balance as he rolls us until I’m resting fully against his chest, suddenly looking down at him. “It’s only been two days since Christmas, and I know I’m being picky, but I’m waiting for the right person to come in.”
At my statement, his features fill with understanding. “You’ll find them.” His hands span my waist and he sits up, taking me with him. “Wanna shower?”
“Yes.” I smile, and then with his alien strength, he maneuvers us both out of bed and carries me to the bathroom. Surprisingly, I’m not late opening the shop, but I honestly wouldn’t care if I were. Finding out Gaston is in love with me is worth a whole lot more than a few paying customers.
With Aubrey and Rachelle out picking us up lunch, I’m surprised when I hear a soft, sweet, southern voice call “Hello!” from the front of the shop. I didn’t hear the chime on the door ring, letting me know someone walked in, so either the chime is broken, or I was really focused on what I was doing and lost in thought. With Gaston and what happened this morning constantly filling my mind, and the last couple of days being so busy, it was probably the latter.
“Be right there!” I shout, walking to the sink to wash the icing off my fingers, and I hear “Okay!” called back. I grab a paper towel once I turn off the water and dry my hands as I go through the open door and out into the main shop.
“Can I help you?” I ask the top of the coppery-red hair that’s bent looking into one of the two display cases. At my question, the woman’s head comes up, and I am momentarily stunned by her large green eyes and elegant, freckled features. She looks like a real-life fairy princess.
“Hi, I’m Anna Bell. I’m looking for”—she drops her eyes and looks at her phone in her hand—“the owner, Chrissie.”
“That’s me.” I smile, and when she smiles back, I notice a slight gap between her two front teeth that makes her look even more endearing. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here to apply for the job that was in the paper.”
“Great, do you mind if we talk out there?” I incline my head toward the tables out front.
“Not at all.”
“Awesome.” I grab my notebook, along with a can of Coke. “Would you like something to drink or eat while we chat?”
“That’s sweet, but no, thank you. I just had a huge lunch at a restaurant down the block.” She pats her stomach.
“The Grill?” I ask, and when she nods, I laugh. “That is one of my favorite places to eat, and I always leave regretting my decision to go there, because the food is so good I can’t stop eating, even when I know I’m full.”
“I’m suffering that fate now.” She giggles as I walk out from behind the counter and across the shop to one of the tables near the window, chanting in my head, I hope you’re the one. I haven’t put a notice up in the window of the shop. I haven’t needed to. Since the day after my ad went live in the paper and online, I’ve been interviewing people left and right. But so far, not one person has felt right for the job, even with most applicants being highly qualified. Like I told Gaston this morning, I know I might be being too picky, but if I’m going to do this, I want the best person possible helping me run my business.
As soon as we both sit, without a word she hands me a few sheets of paper stapled together, and I flip through them. I look over her résumé and work history, a little surprised and worried that she’s applying for a job here and not downtown at one of the big law firms or corporate buildings. Most of her previous work history involves clerical or secretarial work, not baking or even retail.