The Summer of Us (Mission Cove 1)

“Pretty sure of yourself, Mr. Webber.”

He wrapped a hand around my waist, pulling me close. “Pretty sure of you, Sunny. Don’t think I didn’t notice the girls on display earlier.” He brushed a kiss to my ear. “Your fucking tits always turn me on. You know that, you naughty girl.”

I tried to wrap my arms around his neck, but he stepped back with a shake of his head. “I have tonight all planned, Sunny. Your overwhelming lust for me is not waylaying them.”

Then he stepped to the table and pulled out my chair. I didn’t fail to notice the bulge in his dress pants or the low groan he made as I pressed myself against him before sitting. He sat across from me, pouring my wine. He lifted an eyebrow in warning, his eyes narrowing. “Behave.”

I picked up my wine and sat forward, my dress dipping a little lower. I smiled innocently at him. “Of course.”LincShe was trying to kill me. I had the entire evening planned out. Showing her my new office, bringing her here, unveiling my plans for the future—our future. I had visions of romance and laughter. Gentle teasing and great joy. And celebration.

I hadn’t banked on that dress.

That pretty, lacy garment of torture. The colors swirled around her as she moved, the light, diaphanous fabric hinting at the curves it covered. It would have been fine except for those goddamn bows. Tempting little curls of fabric that teased, begging to be pulled open—with my teeth. My body ached knowing that, with one tug, the dress would fall from Sunny’s body and she would be naked and stunning. Her full, perfect breasts on display for my eyes only. My cock was hard, pressing against my zipper, hoping I would give in and adjust my plans. Use the blanket and pillows now. Not later.

Breasts—particularly Sunny’s breasts—had always been my downfall. When I was a teenager, they were endlessly on my mind, playing out in every fantasy I ever had. As an adult, I was still fascinated by them, but none affected me the way Sunny’s did. Seeing her in a baggy shirt, one shoulder bare, knowing there was nothing between the fabric and her breasts, stirred something within me. When she was dressed and busy in the bakery, I thought of the pretty scraps of lace cupping her underneath her apron, wishing it were my hands instead.

And tonight. Nothing but that dress. Two bows and Sunny’s knowing smile as she leaned forward, her full breasts—her amazing, round, full tits—swaying as she did, pressing against the pretty garment, pulling the front down little lower, teasing me without regard.

I shook my head. I was a full-grown adult. A savvy businessman who made millions with a single deal, commanded boardrooms, planned out this evening in meticulous detail.

I would not be sidetracked by a pair of breasts. No matter how spectacular they were.

I narrowed my eyes at her in warning. “Behave.”

She bowed her head, leaning back, pretending to be innocent. Little minx knew exactly what she was doing to me.

I tapped out a message on my phone, and a waiter appeared. He made quick work of serving our dinner, then leaving. Luckily, Sunny was hungry, so she settled in to eat her meal.

“This smells amazing.”

I lifted my glass in a toast. “To us,” I stated simply.

She touched her glass to mine. “Us,” she repeated.

We relaxed and ate, the filet cooked exactly the way she liked it, her favorite vegetable, asparagus with béarnaise sauce, still crisp and fresh. She exclaimed over the tiny potatoes, the ragout of root vegetables I thought she would enjoy, and finished everything on her plate. I loved knowing I had fed her, taken care of her needs. I planned to take care of every single one—tonight and for the rest of her life.

The waiter reappeared, removed our plates, and slid a tray on the table. “Dessert and coffee.”

“Thank you.”

He left, and a few moments later I heard the van leave. They would return much later to clear away the last of the dishes and take down the tent. They had been well paid to handle every detail.

“I think I’m too full.” Sunny frowned.

I waved away her worries. “No problem. We can have it later.” I felt the stirrings of anxiety building in my stomach as I stood. “I have some things to show you.”

She let me take her hand, guiding her to the back of the tent. I switched on a light they’d set up and indicated the smaller of the two white boxes. “Open this one, Sunny.”

She lifted the cover, gasping at what she saw. “Linc, is this…”

“Yes. The concept model for the Amanda Webber Community Center. We break ground next week.”

She dropped the lid to the side, throwing her arms around my neck. She hugged me close. “Oh, Linc, this is wonderful! Show me.”