Chapter 16

chapter 16

EMMALINE

Well, well, well. I guess my brother was right—Bryce Wynward is a grump. His chair scrapes against the tiled floor as he pushes off against the armrests and strides to the opposite corner of the restaurant. I’ve never watched anyone walk with so much purpose. I just wish I knew his purpose.

It’s obvious his brother passed away, but to get angry about a simple question is a dick move. And I deserve better from his grumpy ass. We’ve been having a fantastic time until this moment.

The waiter drops off the drinks. “Your dinner will be out shortly.”

With a tight-lipped grin, I acknowledge him and take another drink. It’s my third, and my face is getting hot. It’s my tell-tale sign that I’m getting tipsy. I should slow down, but when Bryce hasn’t returned, I check my phone for the umpteenth time. If he’s not back in five minutes, I’m going after him and giving him a piece of my mind.

What do I do instead?

Bingo.

Slam my third French Martini.

I’m rolling the dirty cherry over my tongue when Bryce returns. I hold the cherry between my lips, and his gaze heats me from the inside out until he laughs.

He freaking laughs.

“You have some juice dripping on your chin.” He reaches over, sweeping his thumb over my chin and sucks the liquid from his skin. God, I wish it was his finger in my mouth. “I’m sorry for storming off, but I don’t want to ruin the night by talking about him.”

He settles just as he notices my empty drink and his full one.

“Emmaline, did he bring your martini?”

“Yep.”

“And you drank it already?”

I give him shit right back. “That’s what an empty glass usually means,” I say with a fair amount of sass and a little bit of snake venom.

He slides his hand over mine and rests his large palm on my forearm. “I deserved that. Are we even?”

“We’ll see.”

Our food and wine come simultaneously. Bryce feeds me a bite of his steak, and it melts in my mouth. It’s tender with a deep, earthy flavor from the wine, shallots, and mushrooms.

“Mmmmm. I can’t believe how good this is at a casual restaurant. Who knew?”

His eyes darken, but he doesn’t say anything. I return the gesture and give him a bite of my salmon dish .

“Perfectly cooked.”

“It is. I’m going to come here every night.”

“I thought you were going to the Skyloft for dessert every night.”

“Damn, I’m going to be busy,” I burst out, and his square jaw widens when he laughs. I’m enjoying our date despite the tension surrounding my question about his brother.

We finish dinner and leave a half bottle of wine. Brad says he’ll take it to the putting green if we’d like, and Bryce gives him approval.

As I mix the liquor with wine, I get totally slap happy. I need to powder my nose.

“It’s my turn to use the potty. Oops, sorry. I use those words with Jolie. Oops, I’m not supposed to talk about Jolie. But can I just say I love her? I think she’s close to having a breakthrough.” I can’t stop my incessant rambling—it’s my nervous tick.

“Thanks. I’ll settle up while you’re in the… potty.” A chuckle pushes up his throat, and it’s so cute.

I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks hurt. He’s a damn dream. Not just his looks and his body, but he’s funny, sarcastic, charming, and all of the good adjectives I can’t think of at the moment. I may be falling for someone I can’t have.

He’s waiting at the bar for me, and he guides me to the outside putting green. We pick up our putters and a basket of balls. He goes first and sinks one from five feet. Then I do the same.

“Wanna wager on who can hit the most hole-in-ones?” he asks.

“You do know I’m a country club kid. ”

“I also know you prefer Jujitsu.”

“Deal. If I win, you have to take me to Skyloft for dessert. If you win, not that you will, what do you want?”

His eyes travel from my face to my cleavage and over my hips. “Dessert sounds perfect.”

Well, that just sent shivers down my spine and heat to my core.

There are markers around the green with the distance to the cup, and we’re tied, having hit three of five into the cup on the first try. He sinks his last putt, so the pressure is on.

Bryce leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “I’ve thought about your ass for years.”

His body presses into mine from behind and on instinct, I push my ass into his groin. A hard ridge rests between my dress-covered cheeks. “Rusti, I need you. All of you. I think you want me between your thighs, kissing your neck,” he says as he moves my hair off my shoulder, and his lips sear my skin with succulent kisses.

I grind my ass against his erection and let the putter fall to the ground. Hooking my arm around his neck, I hold his mouth in place. “More. More.” I pant.

“More of what?” he asks, his voice low, and I feel a rush of arousal wetting my panties.

“Of you, making me tingle...”

He doesn’t answer, but his calloused fingers climb up my legs, under my dress and as his fingers slide under the lace, he rasps, “Love how wet you are, and we’re just getting started.”

As he fondles my folds and glides through them, my skin prickles. I’m so turned on at the thought of getting fingered where someone could catch us and the fact it’s Bryce Wynward doing it. The man who singlehandedly pulled me from the depths of depression. That night gave me confidence which isn’t always easy when you’re bigger than the average woman.

In this moment, he praises me, “Beautiful. Sexy.” He continues his finger assault that makes me want an all-out war, not just a battle.

My body tightens as his thumb presses hard on my bundle of nerves while he’s got two fingers inside me. “Come for me.”

“No.”

“Why?” he rasps.

“I don’t want it to end.”

“How far is your house?”

He plunges his fingers faster and curls them for the first time. I yelp. “Ahh.” Unable to form a thought, I stay in the moment, enjoying his long, calloused fingers.

“Tell me how far, and I’ll give you as many orgasms as your body can take.”

Breathing heavy, I say, “Ten minutes.”

“Good girl.”

He switches his hand to my ass, and now his thumb is on my puckered hole while his long fingers enter me once again. My legs shake. “Bry… Bryce.”

“Come on my hand, Rusti. And when you do, I’ll let you have a taste.”

With his words, I come and come until he pulls his fingers out and drizzles the sweet nectar over my lips and commands, “Close your mouth and suck. ”

Usually, I consider myself a leader but right now, I would follow this man anywhere for anything.

Want to watch paint dry? Sure.

Thrusting his finger in and out of my mouth, he watches intently and slows the slide.

“Let’s go.” The words come out in syllables scraping against sandpaper.

He laces his hand in mine and rushes me out the back to his Porsche. I’m no stranger to expensive sports cars, but he’s a big man, and I’m not a small woman.

This ride is bound to break the spell, right?

Peeling out of the parking lot, he pushes my dress to my hips and caresses my thigh. Lord, he’s not even touching my center, but I feel an orgasm slowly building. Not from passion but from the tenderness his fingers possess as he skates over my skin and the eagerness in his caress.

I pull up my GPS since I’ve only lived here a few weeks, and the screen says to turn, but the lady isn’t saying anything. I yell, “Turn, turn, turn.”

“Where? Left or right?”

“Left. Why isn’t she talking?”

“Did you turn the volume down since you were on a date?”

Date. A date with Bryce Wynward.

It sounds so fucking good.

After I turn up the volume, and the AI voice tells him to take the roundabout, he swerves like a maniac. I wonder if he even has his driver’s license. My leg must be distracting him.

He shifts into park and cuts the engine .

Phew.

Made it home.

Now let’s hope he hasn’t changed his mind.

Bryce exits the car and opens my door before I’ve picked up my clutch.

“You owe me dessert, Rusti.”