by Anna Argent
"Get out of there. It isn't safe."
"I'm being careful."
"You don't even know what you're doing."
"You've done all the hard work."
Before he realized what he was doing, he was already in his truck, backing out of the drive. "Don't move. I'll be there in five minutes."
Three, if he ignored the speed limit.
"You don't have to come. I'm fine. Just doing a little rearranging."
He had no idea what there was to rearrange, other than her bones when she fell through the hole. "I'm serious, Gemma. Don't move."
He hung up and sped through the quiet streets until he reached the bakery. He parked his truck beside her car and rushed in through the back door.
The kitchen was dim. He'd seen that some of the wiring in the ceiling was damaged by mice and decided to take the opportunity to replace it while his crew was on site. The only working light was the one above the giant industrial sink. With no sunshine to flood the space, it was filled with deep shadows.
Gemma stood there, her arms crossed and irritation plain on her face. Her dark hair was pinned up in a messy bun, and there were smudges of dirt and dust on her clothing. Brightly-colored flip-flops adorned her feet, and while cute, were completely unsuited for a construction site filled with stray nails that would sink right through the soft soles.
"What the hell, Gemma?" he demanded as he came through the door. He hadn't meant for his tone to be so harsh, but he couldn't help it. She was needlessly putting herself in harm's way and it pissed him off.
His crew had stacked the cabinets they could salvage from the front of the bakery in the kitchen to keep them out of the way so they wouldn't get damaged. She'd pulled them out, apparently to make room to lay down the four-by-eight sheets of plywood he'd left. Through the door to the front of the bakery, he could see their neat stacks of unfinished oak flooring toppled precariously close to the hole in the subfloor.
She'd already cut one piece of plywood to fit in the exposed area, and had another on the floor, partially cut. A hand saw lay nearby—proof that at least she hadn't been using power tools.
Saxon counted his blessings for that and then pulled in a deep breath. When his temper was cool enough he trusted himself, he asked, "What are you doing?"
"Finishing the work. You said the pipe was fixed. I saw the new wood where you repaired the floor support doodads. I researched it, and found that all that was left was to lay these boards and put the hardwood down."
Half of him wanted to strangle her. The other half wanted to applaud her for her effort. He did neither.
"Do you want to do the repairs twice? Pay for twice the materials?" he asked.
"No. Of course not."
"Then stop."
"Am I doing it wrong?"
"The process is fine, but you're wasting your effort."
"Why?"
"Because we're dealing with Edmond Jessup, that's why. That man has such a need to feel important that he never passes an inspection without demanding something else be done. Always. If you put down the floor before he makes us do whatever tweak he insists upon, then he's going to make us rip it up and do it again."
"That's insane."
"Doesn't matter. I've been dealing with him for years—or rather, trying to avoid dealing with him. He might only tell us to put in a few more nails, but he's going to tell us to do something, because otherwise everyone will know he's really not that important around here. He'd never let that happen. And he knows how far the work had progressed when he ordered us to stop. It would be just like him to make us redo everything to spite us."
She deflated, her weary body sagging in defeat. "What an asshole."
"Maybe, but he's the one we have to deal with." He crossed to her and wrapped his fingers around her bare arms. "You need to trust me to take care of this."
"If he's that spiteful, then we're going to have to work around him. Or get him fired. He'll never let us get done in time."
"No one is going to fire him. He knows everyone and no one wants to draw his wrath. You can't work around him. If you do, they can shut down the bakery, or cite you for some obscure health code violation. How are you going to open for business if no customers are allowed inside?"
"He can't do that."
"He can and he will. I've seen it happen more than once. You have to play by his rules."
"His rules are stupid."
"Agreed, but until Phillip is back at work, there's nothing else we can do."
Her jaw clenched. She wouldn't meet his gaze. "I never should have insulted Lulu. It was stupid, and now I'm paying for the mistake."
"You had no way of knowing she was the one doing the baking at the café, or that she was his daughter. You have to let it go. Forgive yourself and move on."
"There's too much at stake. I have to make this happen."
He rubbed her shoulders, willing them to relax. "We will. Just give Jessup a day or two to cool down."
"And in the meantime?"
Come home with me, he wanted to say. Let me relax you in the best way I know how—with as many orgasms as you can stand.
But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he said, "Spend time with Aunt Beth. Bake for Flora. The summer kickoff festival is next weekend. They always need help with that."
When her gaze finally met his, he saw fear. Her tone was one of defeat. "The bakery isn't going to open in time, is it?"
"We don't know that. I'm doing everything in my power to make it happen, but if it doesn't, we'll deal with that when we have to."
"Not we," she said. "Me. This is my mess. I'll clean it up."
He tilted her chin up, holding it so she couldn't look away. "You're not alone, Gemma. Whether or not you like it, I'm going to help you."
"I won't be anyone's burden."
He'd heard her say that before, but he was starting to wonder if there was something more he didn't know—something he should know about her.
"You could never be a burden, honey. Never."
She didn't believe him. He could see it in her eyes. Some deep hurt he didn't understand.
But he wanted to.
She pulled away, cold, distant. "I'm going to lock up. Thank you for explaining how the system works. I really don't have money to pay for supplies twice, so I guess I just walk away."
Saxon had no idea what was going on in her head, but he'd seen her pain now and knew it was there. She couldn't hide it anymore. Not from him.
He cupped her face in his hands, delighting in the softness of her skin. She kept her eyes downcast, and the thick fringe of black eyelashes shielded her emotions from him too well.
He bent his knees to lower himself so he was eye-to-eye with her. "I'm not going to let you shut down like this. Talk to me, Gemma. Tell me how I can help."
"You can't," she whispered. "You've already done too much. I never should have let you talk me into our deal. I knew it was an act of pity, but Aunt Beth needs this bakery so much…" she trailed off, pain vibrating through every word.
"No pity, honey. We all love Aunt Beth as much as you do. We all want to see her happy and healthy."
Gemma lifted her gaze then, and the pain he saw there was staggering. "She's going to die soon. She's the only person who ever truly wanted me around, and she's going to die." A tear slipped down her cheek. "What will I do then?"
His heart broke for her, for the way she felt so alone in a world full of people willing to love her.
He didn't know what to say. There were no words strong enough to sweep away her fears or ease her pain. But there was one thing he knew for sure. "She's not the only one who wants you around, Gemma. I want you."
And he did. He wanted her desperately. All of her. Body, mind, soul. He knew it was crazy to fall for a girl this hard and fast, but with Gemma, there were no brakes, no parachute. He was free falling, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.
She blinked, sending the pool of tears in her eyes cascading down he
r cheeks. Saxon wiped them away with his thumbs as he wished for the power to do the same with her pain.
"I want you, too," she said, only the way she said it was different than what he'd meant. He'd meant that he wanted her around, that he enjoyed her company and wanted only what was best for her. But her words implied far more. Though still rough from tears, something else vibrated through her tone—something stark and hungry.
Her gaze roamed his face. Each second a little more of her tension eased and was replaced with a languid kind of need. She stared at his mouth, and he knew then what she was about to do.
She was going to kiss him.
He didn't know if it was to distract herself from her emotions or because it's what she genuinely wanted, but he couldn't find the strength to care. Whatever she needed, he would provide, even if it was the shallow desire to escape her dark thoughts.
He lowered his mouth to hers, closing the distance between them. The second they connected, his whole world shrank down to the tiny space between them—the touch of sensitive skin on sensitive skin, their breath merging, the sweet buttercream taste of her lips.
Heaven.
Her arms slid around him, slender fingers clutching at his back like she couldn't get close enough. Her breath hitched and then raced into her lungs in ragged, needy pants. His heart lurched and pounded in his chest, sending his blood rocketing through his veins in a heated rush.
His cock swelled, straining at the fly of his jeans to be set free.
Lust replaced concern. Desire overwhelmed compassion. His need to claim her, strip her, fuck her—it destroyed his need to comfort. The change was as fast as it was startling, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
Gemma was his. All that was left now was proving it to her. As many times as it took.
He grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the nearest counter. It was cluttered with items taken out of the cabinets that couldn't be salvaged. Metal mixing bowls, cupcake tins and whisks covered the surface, but he didn't let any of it get in his way.
With one hard sweep of his arm, the cookware went sliding into the giant stainless sink with a loud crash of metal on metal.
Saxon didn't care. Gemma didn't bat an eye. If anything, she grabbed him tighter, using her heels to lock his body in the vee of her spread thighs.
He'd spent a fair amount of time imagining sex with Gemma, but none of those fantasies included him fucking her on the counter in her aunt's bakery. Until now. There was no time to relocate to a more private location or to find more comfortable surroundings.
This was where he would take her.
He dove in for another taste of her mouth and was rewarded with a fluttering whimper of need so deep it startled him. Her desperate fingers clutched at his shirt, scrambling to pull it up and off of his body.
Saxon leaned away from her just long enough to strip it off, then went right back for more of her sweet, sexy mouth. His hands slipped under her tank top, splaying against the smooth skin of her back. Sleek, feminine muscles quivered under his touch as she arched to press herself against him more fully.
He wanted her naked. Needed it. He didn't know how he was going to keep breathing if he couldn't feel her skin on his.
His hands were rougher than he intended when he jerked her tank top up and over her head. The stretchy band binding her hair went flying. Her dark, silky hair cascaded around her shoulders, giving her a sultry, wanton look that drove him wild.
Her eyes were huge and dark with desire. Her cheeks were flushed with arousal. Her lips were swollen and shiny wet.
He'd never seen a woman so damn sexy before in his life.
He didn't know how he was ever going to get enough of her to satisfy his need, but he was going to try.
He moved to kiss her again, but she held up a hand, holding him at bay with a locked arm against his chest. She was panting, her words almost frantic. "Tell me you have a condom."
He didn't normally walk around with one, like some men, stashing one in his wallet for that unexpected fuck in a bar. That wasn't his style. Never had been. But since the last time they'd been here, his mouth on hers, he'd changed his habits and started carrying. Just in case lighting struck again.
Thank God for that.
"I do." He pulled out his wallet and retrieved the foil packet, knowing all too well that one wasn't going to be enough. Not with Gemma.
Her smile was part relief, part vixen. "Good man."
"Let me show you just how good." He reached behind her back, flicking open the hooks on her bra in one deft motion.
He kissed her shoulder. His mouth followed the path of her loose bra strap as it fell away. As he claimed every inch as his own, her breathing sped and goosebumps formed across her skin. When he reached her nipple and sucked it into his hot mouth, she stopped breathing entirely.
Her fingers slid through his hair, gripping his head tight. Her thighs clenched against his hips. Her head fell back, and she let out a wavering groan of pure pleasure.
Saxon feasted on her, treating each breast with exquisite care and a thorough attention to detail. He made note of what she liked, what made her breath catch, and what made her quiver. With fingers, hands, mouth and tongue, he savored her. By the time he lifted his head, both her nipples were stiff, distended and cherry red.
Delicious.
He was about to go back for more when she slipped down off the counter and unbuttoned her shorts.
"I can't wait," she said. "I need you inside me. Now."
Chapter Twenty-three
Gemma was coming apart at the seams—both physically and mentally. Her body was humming, quivering on the edge of feelings so intense they had no name. Her mind was a whirling dervish of emotions too dark and dangerous to face. She needed an escape from them, and the only thing with enough power to distract her from the looming monster was standing right in front of her, big and broad, with the promise of paradise shining in his green eyes.
His gaze followed the course her hands took as she shoved her shorts and panties down, baring her flesh as she moved.
Dark flushes of arousal colored his cheeks. His jaw clenched. His nostrils flared as if to drink in her scent. There was no question in her mind that he wanted this—wanted her.
She didn't care if it was only physical. She didn't even care if it was a mistake—something she'd regret later. All she cared about was getting him naked and as deep inside her body as she could take him.
He was so damn gorgeous, his work-hardened body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She could still smell the soap of his evening shower—the one he always took after a day of hard physical labor. Beneath that clean scent was something warm and wild. His scent.
She'd noticed it the day she'd come back to town, when he'd pushed past her to lift the heavy rug out Aunt Beth's front door. But now that scent was something she craved, as if the air near his body somehow held more oxygen.
Thick layers of muscle contoured his frame. Fine, dark hair stretched across his chest, lending shadows that served to highlight just how powerfully built he was. His skin was tan from hours under the sun. A paler line of flesh circled his body, just above his low waistband.
Gemma wanted to see just how far down that sun-starved skin went.
She reached for his jeans, but he took her hands in his and pulled her arms high.
"So fucking perfect," he murmured, his gaze hot as it roamed her naked body. "If I'd known how beautiful you are under all those clothes, I never would have been able to keep my hands off you."
She felt a hot blush creep across her cheeks, followed by a warm swell of pleasure. He liked what he saw, which gave her the confidence to be bold.
She slid down his firm body, her open mouth kissing a path along his ribs to the top of his leather belt. The hard ridge of his erection was blatantly obvious beneath the worn denim. As close as she was now, she could see his cock jerking in eagerness to be set free.
She was more than happy to oblige.
; He still held her hands above her head, but when she gave a tug now, he let her go with a low growl.
The soft tongue of his belt slipped free of the buckle, and within seconds, she was peeling his clothes down just enough to reach the treasure she sought.
Like the rest of Saxon, his cock was big, broad and rock hard. His smooth flesh was flushed a deep crimson. His warm, wild scent was stronger here, mixing with that of soap and fabric softener.
Gemma wrapped her fingers around him, gently at first. His sudden intake of breath and his exhale of pleasure gave her all the permission she needed to explore and find out what made him tick—what made him lose control.
With both hands she stroked him, marveling in the dichotomy of hard and soft. Her mouth watered and her inner vixen chanted at her to take him into her mouth. She knew it would please him—what man didn't like his cock sucked—but she found the idea too compelling to resist. She wanted to know how he tasted, how he sounded when the wet heat of her lips slid down that thick shaft.
Gemma leaned forward and flicked her tongue across the sensitive pucker of flesh.
His whole body jerked like she'd taken a taser to him. Heavy muscles clenched, and his breath rushed out in a noisy whoosh of air.
She'd pleased him. And she needed to do it again.
With slow, steady momentum, she took him into the sultry heat of her mouth, licking and twirling her tongue along his length as she went. By the time he was nudging her throat, his whole body was shaking.
"Gemma," he breathed, his voice husky and faint. "Fuck, that's good, honey."
He stroked her hair in between clenching it in tight fists as if he couldn't stop himself. She liked that she could do this to him—that she could give him the kind of pleasure that made him forget to be a gentleman.
Gemma didn't want gentle. She wanted fire, passion, mindless lust.
And that was what she was going to get.
With every bit of skill and every trick she knew, she worked his erection, stroking and sucking and gripping him tight in her wet fists. It didn't take long for her to figure out the rhythm and pressure he liked, and which things she could do with her tongue that made him gasp and tremble.