Page 72 of Crushing Clover

“You were a good girl today,” he said, smoothing my hair back from my face. “Don’t get any violent ideas with that fork or Saint will skin me alive—probably with the fork.” He winked at me, and I grinned back.

“I’ll try to contain myself, sir.”

He rose from his chair with his empty bowl and turned Lucky’s face up to him. He gave him the longest, sweetest kiss.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“I’m sorry for fucking up so much tonight. I should have kept my mind on work.”

“Maybe fucking the girl while you’re on break isn’t the best idea.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“No. For now, it’s only a recommendation.”

“You’re probably right, sir.”

The two of them kissed again. No one was giving me that kind of aftercare, but being allowed to use a fork was a treat. The stir-fry was amazing, too.

I ate, and the promise of future orgasms gave me a fantastic appetite.

Chapter 16

It wasn’t quite dawn yet, although the sky was a clear, dull blue. Usually, we’d still be asleep at this hour, but Lucky wanted to surf, and he’d convinced the other two to join him.

They’d refused to leave me at home, unfortunately. As much as a day at the beach sounded fun, so did sleeping in.

“Uh-oh. The sign says no dogs on the beach,” Saint said, flicking the bell on my collar as I got out of the truck.

“Is that a ‘Saint owns me’ joke, or a ‘you’re ugly’ joke?” I asked flatly.

“Either? Both?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you don’t tell me, how am I supposed to decide how offended to be?”

“Full offense meant.”

“I appreciate the clarification.”

“For fuck’s sake, will you two stop for five minutes?” Lucky admonished. “We’re here to relax, not listen to the two of you snipe at each other.”

“Sorry, Luckface,” Saint said with saccharine sweetness, punching Lucky’s shoulder hard as he passed him.

“Sorry, Lucky.” I kissed his shoulder and fell into step with him, carrying the blankets we would be laying out. I was wearing one of my new bathing suits, but considering how cold I’d been at the beach with Rush, I was wearing his hoodie (which I still hadn’t returned) and a pair of sweatpants.

Unloading took a few trips, but in no time, they were in their wetsuits. Lucky ran to the water with his board, like a merman who’d been separated too long from his first love. The other two were talking and laughing about something I couldn’t hear. Was this what they’d been like as teenagers? The stress of running the restaurant must weigh on them, even though they loved it.

Saint left Rush to stride my way, putting on a special glare, just for me.

“Don’t even think of running off. I have a piece in my wetsuit, and I won’t hesitate to pick you off from out there.”

“Yes, Saint.” I didn’t bother studying the wetsuit for the telltale bulge of a gun. The only bulge in that wetsuit was muscle and cock. Even if he was carrying, what were the chances he could hit me from a moving surfboard so far away?

I did my best to look worried and cowed.

“Stay put and things won’t have to get ugly.” He turned and strode away as quickly as he’d come.

Moments later, he and Rush were paddling out into water that was still too dark for my liking.

---