Chapter 42

42

" M orning, sleepyhead." Dylan greets me in the soft light of the kitchen, kissing my temple as he hands me a steaming cup of coffee.

"Morning," I murmur, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I look at him over the rim of my mug as I blow on the coffee, my gaze drawn to the sweatpants slung low on his hips, the lithe muscles of his abdomen disappearing beneath his waistband. I really, really want to find out what's underneath.

"Are you up for a date tonight?" Dylan asks, pulling two bagels from the toaster oven and slathering them with a thick layer of cream cheese. I inhale the yeasty, sweet scent of freshly cooked bagels like a lion scenting its next meal.

"Hungry?" The corner of his mouth lifts, his eyes sparkling as he hands me a plate. I plop down at the table, most definitely looking like Gollum when he finds the ring. I take a gigantic bite, my eyes rolling back as an ungodly moan exits my mouth.

"Please don't ever leave me," I beg around another mouthful. I need his bagels every morning for the rest of my life.

"About that date...I wasn't sure if you'd be too tired after yesterday," Dylan says, reaching over to wipe a glob of cream cheese from my lip.

"What did you have in mind?"

"There's a carnival in Stromness that I thought might be fun. We could go early in the evening so we don't get home too late."

"I'd like that." I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, thankful to have this quiet morning alone with him. "What are your plans for the day?"

"I'm about to head over to the castle with the rest of the bagels. We have a meeting with Charlie in about an hour to review some of the smaller details of the build. What about you?" he asks, sipping his coffee.

"I think I may come over there with you. I need to do some brainstorming and sketch out the interior design of the brewery. I can't really do anything else until I have that figured out. Plus, it'll give my feet some time to recover from the chaos of the last week."

Fifteen minutes later, Dylan and I and a paper grocery bag filled with bagels are walking down the road toward the castle, neither of us wanting to waste a single second of this gorgeous weather. After handing them out and lots of good morning kisses and pats of affection, I scarf down another bagel while watching Charlie and the guys discuss different design elements. I want to listen–should listen–but I can't help but relax into the warmth of the sun streaming through the windows. I balance my sketchbook on my lap and slowly drag my pencil over the paper, sketching out the boundaries of the brewery space. Whenever I imagine it, I think of the brewing area being open to the rest of the building. Shiny copper brewing kettles line the back wall, making it obvious that we craft our own beer and are proud of it. I want the rest of the space to flow seamlessly between the inside seating area and a beer garden. Perhaps most importantly, it has to be family-friendly. Basically the exact opposite of the pub. I'll need to ask the guys how they feel about me offering bar snacks. Obviously, it would have to be different from the food they serve in the pub. And to be honest, I'm not even sure how that would work. I wasn't planning on hiring a chef. Maybe just something simple like charcuterie boards? I jot the word 'food' down at the edge of the paper with a question mark. I'll have to think about it more later.

I'm leaning toward comfortable seating over traditional wooden tables and chairs. Armchairs, sofas, and the like—where people can get cozy and stay a while. Maybe several long tables for bigger groups and shelving for books and board games. What I want most of all is for people to feel at home. I finish sketching my ideas out on paper and end up with a somewhat recognizable bird's-eye view of the brewery and outdoor space.

"What do you think?" I ask Charlie as she pulls up a chair beside me and plops down, wincing slightly. I hand her the sketchbook and drop to the floor, pulling her feet into my lap.

"You're an angel," she groans, leaning back in the chair, balancing the sketch on her stomach as I rub her feet. "This is the back wall?" she asks, making sure she has it turned the right way. I nod, watching her face for clues as she studies it. She takes her time, a grin slowly spreading over her face. "This is going to be amazing, Isla. I'm so fucking proud of you."

"Do you think I should change anything?"

"Not a single thing. What color scheme did you decide to go with?"

"Green and gold."

"It's going to be beautiful. I can't wait to see it finished." She sets the sketch down on my chair and closes her eyes. She looks exhausted.

"How are you feeling? Less than two weeks to go now, right?" I ask, pressing my thumbs into the balls of her feet.

"I'm so ready for this baby to be born. My entire body hurts. I can't sleep. I have to pee every ten minutes."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Absolutely nothing. The men are already waiting on me hand and foot. I'm actually surprised they let me come over here today. They're acting like I'm made of glass and could spontaneously combust any second."

"God. I'd be ready to give birth, too," I say, grimacing .

"I know I act like it's annoying, but they've been amazing. Not that I need to tell you that."

"I'm so happy for the four of you, Charlie. I can't wait to see you start this next chapter of your life."

"So tell me," she whispers, her eyes opening, "how's it going with the four of you?" Charlie glances around to make sure the guys aren't listening.

"Good. Really good. So good, I'm scared I'll jinx it if I talk about it."

"God, I remember those days. I'm here if you ever need to talk. Now go on," she says, shooing me away. "Dylan's waiting to sweep you off your feet." I look up to see Dylan standing off to the side, watching us with a soft smile on his face.

"What?" I ask, laughing as I stand and brush off the back of my jeans.

Dylan smiles, shaking his head slightly. "The bond the two of you have is really special."

"Exactly, so if you hurt her, I'll–" Charlie drags her thumb across her throat, winking at me before standing up and waddling off.

"Wow."

"You heard her." I chuckle as I watch her walk up the terrace steps and disappear inside before I turn back to Dylan. "Ready to go?'

"Yeah, Henry and Theo said they could finish up today's work without me, so if you want to leave now, we can."

"That sounds good to me. I need to grab some things from the house before we go."

"Me, too," he says, his voice dropping an octave, dripping with innuendo. My heart jumps to my throat at the heat in his eyes, and I bolt toward the house, realizing a few steps in that I have no chance against someone who competes in triathlons. He pretends to let me win until I take my first step into the house, and then he's at my back, slamming the door and pushing me against it, his lips roaming over my cheek, my jaw, my neck.

"I could spend forever with my lips on your skin, and it still wouldn't be enough," he murmurs, capturing my mouth with his. I open for him, inviting him in, our tongues tangling, teeth knocking as need drives us closer together. I reach for the front of his pants, closing my hand over the hardness there, my lips curving against his at his swift intake of breath, his pained groan. He kisses his way down my throat to my sternum, pausing to drag his teeth across both of my nipples before dropping to his knees and tugging down my pants. The calluses on his fingertips catch on my panties as he drags his finger along the dampness of my slit. He hums his approval, the sound coming from deep in his chest, making my skin prickle with desire. Hooking his finger in the scrap of lace between my legs, he pulls it aside, tracing me with his tongue, lapping at my clit.

"Let's go to the bedroom," I rasp, my fingers tangling in his dark hair. A slight shake of his head and then two fingers are pushing into me. I roll my hips, pulling him close, grinding on his mouth as my orgasm looms closer. Just as I'm about to come, he pulls back, breathing hard, lips glistening.

"Not yet," he pants, readjusting his cock in his pants, a pained look on his face.

"Why not?" I whimper as he stands and pulls my pants back up.

"Because the longer we wait, the better it will be."

"But it will be good now," I object, my heartbeat pounding between my legs, demanding more.

"Trust me," he growls, pressing me back against the door, his lips covering mine, our tastes mingling on our tongues. I do my best to bring him over to the dark side with my mouth, but his control is infallible. "Grab what you need, and we'll head to the carnival," he says, breaking our kiss.

I take one look at the determination in his eyes and scamper off to my bedroom, grabbing a hair tie, chapstick, and my wallet. As much as I want to sleep with him right this second, I love that he's bossing me around. After being in control for my entire life, it's a relief to give it up in the bedroom sometimes. It allows me to step into my more feminine side and let myself be taken care of. To experience the softer side of life. Nobody has ever given me that option before.

I meet Dylan by the garage door and toss him the keys to the Mustang, ready for the ride of my life.