Page 71 of Whisking It All

“You know I do.” Another flutter. “Make me come,” she demanded, bouncing faster.

He worked her clit harder, faster, in a dizzying rhythm, mesmerized by the image on the screen of his phone. When she fell over into her orgasm, the camera caught each contraction of her pussy, the clenching of her ass, every quiver and shudder. It captured the throbbing of his cock as he came, the rush of her wetness when he slid from inside her.

Ending the recording, he tossed the camera to the side and sat up, capturing her chin between his thumb and forefinger and bringing her in for a bruising kiss. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever done,” he said.

“You better send it to me.” She nipped at his bottom lip. “I may want to watch it later. In preparation for our date,” she teased.

“Here.” He sent the video to her and then deleted it from his own phone.

“Why’d you do that?”

“So you don’t have to worry about it going anywhere. You have the only copy.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I trust you, Jamie. I know you wouldn’t show it to anyone. Besides, who would you show it to? It’s not like you can tell your friends—”

They both froze. His scalp prickled and something in his throat constricted, pressure pounding on the inside of his rib cage.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he replied, his voice too sharp, too terse. “You’re right.”

He lifted her off of himself and stood, moving to the closet and pulling on a clean pair of sweatpants.

“Not that I would ever show my friends something like that,” he said as he pulled a long sleeve t-shirt over his head. His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears, but he couldn’t stop himself. “But you’re right. No one can know anything about this.”

“Jamie, come on.”

“We should get going. I want to get you home before there are too many people around.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I said it’s fine.” He flashed a strained smile he didn’t feel, his chest too tight, his lungs refusing to take in enough air. “I’ll get your clothes,” he said, opening his bedroom door and moving out into the front entryway to gather the clothing they’d discarded the night before.

He picked up her shirt and bra, holding them loosely in one hand as he slumped against the hallway wall. Closing his eyes, he fought to control the pounding of his heart and the panic bubbling beneath his skin.

What was he doing? He’d just spent the last twelve hours in bed with his best friend’s daughter. If Ethan ever found out—hell, if Gavin or Baz ever found out—he’d lose them all. All the friends who had become his family after his parents’ deaths, who’d stood by him and been the brothers he needed when his own brother was off touring the world and becoming a minor celebrity. He’d have to move. He wouldn’t be able to stay there with his friends despising him the way they would. Which meant he’d lose the restaurant, his customers, his co-workers, the tiny piece of home he’d carved out for himself over the last twenty years.

He'd lose everything that mattered to him.

Except her.

Maybe he could keep her?

He scraped his hands over his eyes. No, he’d lose her, too. Tessa was only in town through the holidays. And he knew her well enough from his conversations with Whisky to know she had no intention of staying in one place for long. But Jamie didn’t want a nomadic existence. He wanted roots, a family, and a place to call home. He wanted Aster Bay, so he could never be more than a layover for her, a diversion before she was off on the next adventure.

“Jamie.” Her voice was soft, unsure.

He turned to find her wrapped in a sheet and standing in his doorway, her movements hesitant, like she was afraid he’d startle.

He held a hand out to her and she went to him, curling against him and tucking her head under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the scent of her, filling his lungs with it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to her tousled hair. “I’ve never kept a secret this big from them before.”

“From my father, you mean,” she said.

“Yes.”

“He wouldn’t like this.”

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