Page 35 of Claiming Becca

I brush my lips across her forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm…” she hums. I chuckle when she finally focuses on me. I lean down and rub my lips along her jaw.

“Remember how you feel right now. I’m going to make you feel even better when we get home,” I promise her. She gasps, her fingernails digging into my forearms.

My dick hardens at the thought of her nails digging into my back. “I expect you to scratch me up later. Okay, Shortcake?” I tell her, my voice rough.

“Connor,” she whispers. “Can we go now?” she asks impatiently.

I push a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I want you to be able to have a first date. You deserve a first date.”

She gives me a small smile. “And it’s going to be with you?” she whispers.

Unable to stop, I lean down and brush my mouth against hers again. “I’m going to be your first and last date. I can promise you that,” I whisper against her mouth.

She sucks in a breath as her eyes burn into mine. Why didn’t I do this sooner? I place my hand on her lower back, guiding her to follow the hostess. She sits us in a booth instead of a table. Of course, I slide in next to Becca, and she smirks at me. Some may think it weird that I don’t sit across from her, but I’ve always done this with her. Any time I could touch her, I would.Now, I don’t have to be sly with my touches. I can touch her as much as I want. The same server that was helping her and that asshole walks up.

Her eyes widen slightly. “You two?” she asks. Becca puts her face in her hands.

I shrug. “That guy was a mistake.”

She scoffs. “You can say that again. He was pissing me off.” Becca takes her face out of her hands. “I’m glad you ditched him,” she tells Becca. “Anyway, I’m Lucy. What can I get you two to drink?” We order water and margaritas. After she leaves, I wrap my arm around Becca’s shoulder, grab her leg, and put it over my knee. I rub the inside of her knee with my fingertip.

She swallows and looks up at me. “What are you doing?”

I lean down and brush my lips across her cheek and slowly to her lips, sucking her bottom lip between my teeth. She makes that whine and moan sound again. My already hard cock jumps at the sound.

“I should have been causing you to make that noise all this time.”

Her eyes flutter open as she looks at me. “What does this mean, Connor?”

I move my arm from her shoulders to her waist, drawing her in even closer. “It means you’re mine, and I’m yours,” I reply.

She watches me under her eyelashes for a few seconds before lifting her hand to cup the side of my neck. “So, I can kiss you whenever I want?”

“Absolutely,” I answer immediately. She leans up, pausing briefly, when her lips almost touch mine. She gathers her courage before closing the distance.

Keeping my hand on her waist, I grip her tighter and trail my fingertip up and down her thigh. I want to touch her badly, but not here. Not for the first time. She sucks on my lip like I did hers, and then her tongue runs along my lower lip. I bring my hand up to cup the back of her head and deepen the kiss. She responds immediately, her hand on my neck tightening as we lose ourselves in the kiss. We break apart, finally, and I lean my forehead against hers.

“I’m going to make up for all the years I should have been doing that,” I promise her. Someone clears their throat, and we slowly turn toward them. I notice our drinks are already on the table.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lucy says as she glances between us. “It does seem this date is going a lot better.”

Becca huffs out a laugh. “Definitely.”

My heart beats in my chest at that admission. This girl. She is everything.

“Do you know what you want? Or do you want me to come back?” Lucy asks.

I glance at Becca. “You want what you usually get?” I ask her, and she nods. “I’ll get the steak tacos, and she’ll get a taco salad with sour cream and guacamole. Can we get some cheese dip for our chips too?” I ask.

“Sure. I’ll be right back with it.” She walks away. Turning, I place my lips against Becca’s temple. Now that I’ve touched and kissed her, I can’t stop. Becca’s hand comes up and rubs up and down my thigh. Every muscle in my body tenses. I want her to move her hand a little to the right.

“I ordered paint for Bailey’s room and your house,” she tells me. I pull back slightly so I can look at her.

“Really? What color?” I take her hand in mine and begin to massage her palm.

“A pale yellow for Bailey’s room. For your house, I got grays, blues, ivory, and greens,” she tells me.

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