Page 62 of Bringing Home the Bacon
He takes my face in both hands and kisses me. I melt into him for all of five seconds before I break the kiss and ask again, “But what about your plans for the restaurant? The producers won’t allow you to open in a tiny town like Fork Lick.”
“Actually, they will,” he says. “I got on a call with them this morning. They think it’s a great idea. The concept is comfort food, right? What’s more comforting than a small town packed with family and friends?”
“Careful what you wish for, sir, those family and friends will be all up in our business 24/7. I bet Melinda is already tagging everyone I went to middle school with to tell them about the Bedd Babies about to be born out of wedlock.”
“Wedlock, schmedlock,” he says, waving a hand.
“Wedlock, schmedlock, huh?” This man makes me laugh. “Is that a technical term?”
“It is. Let people talk. And as for family getting up in our business? That’s already working in our favor. Last night, Sam mentioned that white church that borders your farm. He said it’s newly vacant and could make a great space for the restaurant. I checked out the photos online, and I think the choir loft could even be converted into a living space for us and the babies.”
“You already reached out to the real estate agent, didn’t you?” I ask.
He winces. “I did. I sent an email and cc’d the show producers. We can check it out today if you’re interested. It’s kind of perfect, but I won’t pull the trigger on it until I have your okay.”
“You’re perfect,” I say.
Where did this man come from? He factors my feelings into every decision he makes. He’s thoughtful and funny. He’s resourceful, strong, and kind, and I’m thrilled he’s mine.
“Remember last night when you asked when we could butter bread together again?” I ask.
“Yes?”
“How does right now hit you?” I say, a husk lilt in my tone.
“Right here? In this doctor’s office?”
“If you’re not in the mood, we could always wait another four months…” I tease and reach for my pants.
“You leave those pants right where they are,” he says, very bossy all of a sudden. “Know this, woman, I’m never not in the mood to butter your bread.”
After a quick dash to the door to secure the lock, he tears off his pants and kneels on the linoleum floor, settling himself between my bare thighs. “I know the clock’s ticking, but you didn’t let me linger here last time. Will you let me linger, beautiful?”
What in the world can a girl say to that?
He dives into my center like a man starved. He licks, savors, and hums. “You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says between tongue strokes.
True to his word, he lingers. But within minutes, I’m climbing to my peak. Pleasure soars through me, pulsing over and over all the way down to my fingers and toes. I know we’re skating on thin ice here. Someone could come to the door at any second, but I didn’t wait four long months to touch this man again not to have him inside me.
“Get up here,” I say when I’ve just barely caught my breath.
He’s the one following orders now.
Somehow, Bacon makes mounting an exam table sexy. He fists his cock above me, and with one upward stroke, he’s ready to go. “Condom? Do we need a condom?” he whispers.
“I haven’t been with anyone since you,” I whisper back.
“Same,” he says with a smile.
“And I suppose you can’t get me pregnant twice.”
“Didn’t I already get you pregnant twice?” he jokes.
“You know what I mean,” I say. “No condom necessary.”
“Excellent.” He presses his length inside me inch by delicious inch until he’s fully seated. “Heaven,” he pants. “Holy shit, Colleen, you feel like heaven.”
“You do too,” I breathe.
