“Tucker?”
Lifting her leg up to my hip, I ease into her, forcing my eyes to stay open as her mouth opens in a gasp. She feels different from this angle, and I fight the itching beneath my skin telling me to flip her over and take her from behind. Turn her away from me.
No, I can do this. Ihaveto do this.
Being with another woman like this, feeling the feelings I am, isn’t betraying Jo. In fact, I think Jo would have picked Phoebe for me. The determined, frustratingly happy, and incredibly sweet woman who wears her heart on her sleeve even though she’s been through hell, too, to bring me back to life after being the walking dead for so many years.
My mouth crashes onto hers as I roll my hips and let her taste herself on her tongue. My saltiness mixes with her sweetness, and I’m lightheaded. Almost drunk.
She moans and matches me thrust for thrust, and I’m glad I told the voices in my head to fucking shut up. This is as close to heaven as I’ve gotten in a long time.
“Tucker,” she pants, pulling her mouth away from mine. My eyes lock with hers, and she gives me a soft, grateful smile. “Oh, Tucker.”
“Come for me, Yellow Crayon.”
I slip my hand between us to help rub her to the finish line, loving how she gasps and arches her back. My hips move faster and harder, driving her further over the edge. She grips my forearms, her nails digging in and leaving little indents.
Her back arches, and her mouth hangs open. I’m pretty sure her eyes roll to the back of her head, and I can’t imagine a better sight right now.
“Baby,” I grit out, thrusting twice more before letting her pussy milk me. “Fuck.”
“Wow,” she says when I pull out and fall onto the bed beside her. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fucking fantastic,” I say, closing my eyes as I focus on the high I’m slowly coming down from. “I forgot how good it can be.”
My eyes open as she runs the back of her hand over my cheek. “I was worried it would be too much for you.”
Pulling her into my arms, I kiss her. “It was, but I wanted it. Needed it.”
“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” she whispers before softly kissing me. “I’ll do whatever you need me to, Tucker. If it’s too much, we’ll adjust.”
Damn it, she takes my breath away. All I can do is hold her, skin against skin, and I think maybe I’ve been holding out for Phoebe. The only person persistent enough to break the spell and tear down the walls I’ve built up to protect myself.
Yep, I’m fucked. Totally and completely fucked in the best way possible.
Chapter Eighteen
Phoebe
Ibuzz around the bakery, feeling light again. Finally. It’s early, and it’s my favorite time of the day. Being alone in the bakery in the early mornings before we open to get everything going is my version of walking nature.
Tucker drove me to work, promising to come by once we opened to keep an eye on me. Then he kissed me until I got a later start than I planned.
Not that I’m complaining.
It’s freeing to be the only one in the bakery with the music just a bit louder than I normally have it. I dance as I pull the pastries from the oven, and I’m enjoying the time because I get to set up the display case just the way I like it.
A Beyonce song comes on the radio, and I do a little shimmy, happy to feel like myself again. Better than myself, actually.
Until movement on the computer screen catches my attention as I walk to the walk-in. I gasp as I watch Ryan walk up to the front door, and I open my phone to call Tucker.
And then I nearly drop the phone when I realize what Ryan has: a key.
He unlocks the front door, and I see five very large men wearing suits walking towards the back door. Theunlockedback door. Not that the fact matters at this point. Ryan has keys to my bakery?
Climbing onto the chair, I scramble to the top of the walk-ins. It’s dusty and dirty, but I don’t care. The room comes down at an angle, so I can’t use much of it for storage—only the edge for paperwork in boxes. But at least it does a decent job of hiding me.
PHOEBE: Help. Ryan’s in the bakery. He has friends.
