Page 83 of The Billionaire Is Back

I place my hands in my pockets and take deep breaths, attempting to calm down. Not only because of what she just said. Not only because she’s wearing a tank top, little sleep shorts, and an apron.Andshe’s a little bit sweaty.Andthere’s that damn streak of flour on her face. I was horny as hell when I woke up, and she’s literally not making anything less hard for me or on me.

“Yes, I see that you’re baking. I see that you aren’t doing it to help you relax. I see that you’re not resting on this last night of our vacation. Claire, we’re on a luxury yacht and things are about to get pretty stressful when we get back on shore, so this is our last chance to relax. Together. I know this kitchen is the shit, but the hardcore I-run-a-bakery-and-it-might-as-well-be-five-a.m.-in-Beacon-Harbor kind ofbaking? That can wait.”

“I am relaxed! This is fun for me,” she hyperventilates.

I scoff, shaking my head.This woman.“Yeah, you sound super chill, babe. Claire…Claire…” She doesn’t give me her attention and she doesn’t stop moving. She never stops moving. She never stopsdoing. I stride toward her, entering her space and forcing her to look up at me. “Listen, you’re going to be busier than usual for a while when we get back. So let’s not waste our last hours here. I want you calm and well rested for your reopening.”

“I am!” She checks the temperature of one of the ovens. “I will be.” She stirs something in a pot on one of the burners. “But I need to be at the top of my game so I can start strong!”

She tries to reach for another pot and another wooden spoon, but I gently grab her wrists. “You will be. But I’m telling you right now that you need to relax.” She tries to move again, but my grip on her gets a little tighter.

Her jaw sets, and her steel-blue eyes finally fix on mine. “Excuse me? Do you think because you’re my boyfriend you can just order me around and tell me what to do?”

“No. I can order you around and tell you what to do because for the time being this is my yacht?—”

“This is not your yacht. You’re borrowing it from?—”

“And I am the captain.”

She rolls her eyes. There it is. “And what does that make me—Tom Hanks? Grady, if you don’t let me go, a lot of things are going to burn.”

I make an adjustment, holding on to both of herwrists with one hand while I turn off all of the ovens and burners.

She gasps in frustration. “Grady! You’re ruining my?—”

“I don’t care. You are going to relax.”

There’s fire in her eyes now. And God damn if it isn’t just as delicious as anything she could ever bake. But there’s more than just the annoyance that I’m interrupting her. She is actually annoyed withme. And I’m actually annoyed withher. Is this our first fight as boyfriend and girlfriend?

My breathing is heavy as we stare into each other’s eyes, both of us obstinate. There’s also some sort of frustration underneath there. The kind that can be worked out the fun way.

I kiss her. Hard. Because I just can’t not kiss her anymore. She kisses me back, letting her frustration press against my lips and thrust against my tongue. She’s been taste testing whatever she’s been making, and although our mouths are at war, hers tastes like heaven.

She suddenly breaks the kiss, straightens her apron, and attempts to go back to work.

Oh, no you don’t, young lady.

I cup her face and force her mouth back to mine. I begin untying her apron, and she tries to stop me. She pulls away from me again.

I pull her back to me, a little rough. “You are going to listen to me, Little Sweeney.”

The heat in her eyes intensifies, now with the added ingredients of lust and excitement. I loosen my necktie and yank it off without breakingeye contact with her. The sudden movement causes her to blink, but her sexy mask of anger remains in place. I wrap the tie around her wrists, and she makes a couple of attempts to pull away but they’re half-hearted. It doesn’t take long before I have her hands tied together in front of her.

“Are you going to behave now?”

“No” is her simple reply.

I turn her around and place her hands on the counter. Now I feel like I’m back in a dream.Mydream. My fantasy. There’s a mixing bowl filled with smooth pink frosting on the counter right in front of her. I pull down her little sleep shorts, leaving her insanely tiny thong in place. I set my hand in the frosting, coating it, and then I smack her ass. It makes a satisfying crack, the sound bouncing off the stainless steel all around us. It leaves an equally satisfying handprint of frosting and elicits an even more satisfying moan from Claire.

“If you’re going to be a brat…”Spank.“I’m going to treat you…”Spank, spank.“Like a brat.”Spank, spank, spank.

I drop to my knees behind her, and I am in my dream. My beautiful Claire’s soft skin is covered in butter and sugar, and she’s all mine. But I’m wide awake. I proceed to lick all the buttercream frosting from the surface of her sweet, pink ass cheek. Every last dollop. I taste vanilla, rose water, a little lavender, a hint of salt. I am even more turned on by how fucking subtle and delicate and perfect she made the flavor and texture of this frosting.That’s my girl.When I’ve licked her clean, she’s groaning and trembling from squeezing her thighs together so tight. Her torso is flat against the counter,arms straight out in front of her, and she’s trying to press her sex into my face.

“Not yet,” I tell her. I grab her ponytail and raise her up to stand.

She sways a little. I turn her around to face me so I can see how heavy her eyelids are. But the tension isn’t completely drained from her face. Yet.

I take out my phone to call the captain. “Terrence, I need the halls clear.”

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