Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11) by Elise Faber (important books to read txt) 📕

But her friends got it, and she normally wasn’t sad to miss a call from her mother, listing all of her inadequacies when it came to being a proper woman who could provide her grandchildren.

Plus, her friends all had the direct line to her lab, so they could get her that way if it was an emergency. Or sometimes they emailed, reminding her to check her messages. But Brad hadn’t had any of those options . . . because she hadn’t given them to him.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning and taking the phone from him—which he’d powered up—and setting it on the cradle she had on the table to charge. Already the screen was filling with missed calls, voicemails, and text banners. Yet another wince. “Really, I’ll get better, and . . .”

She gave him her other info—her work email and number, even the information for the front desk, in case it was an emergency and he couldn’t get her the other ways.

Dutifully, he typed in the numbers and saved her email to his contacts.

But though the edginess in his expression had eased . . . he still wasn’t his normal smiling self, and another bolt of guilt shot through her. She’d dampened the comfortable rapport they’d built, made him worry while she’d spent the day in peaceful happiness.

And now her normally sweet, teasing, lovely man was . . . diminished, shadows beneath his eyes, lines edging his lush, kissable mouth.

“I really am sorry,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly. “It’s not—” He shook his head. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. I just . . . it—”

She did what she would have wanted.

She stepped into his arms and hugged him tightly.

He wrapped his arms around her in return, burying his face in her hair and breathed in deeply, just holding her for a long, long time. Eventually, he loosened his hold, stepping back and cupping her cheek. “I’m okay now,” he murmured. “Sorry, I freaked out.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, taking a page out of her book, smiling down at her.

“Did we just have our first real fight?” she asked.

“No,” he said, cupping her jaw. “That was when you told me I wasn’t washing the dishes correctly.”

She frowned, felt her brows draw together. “When was that?”

“One night, last week.”

“Which night?”

Now she caught a glimmer of humor in his eyes, felt that last little bit of guilt settle and drift away.

“Not telling you, if you don’t remember.” A smirk that made her want to kiss him.

Well, she could do that.

So she did, lifting up on tiptoe and pressing her mouth to his. His lips parted immediately, and she dipped inside, loving that she could hold and touch and kiss this man. That he’d somehow become hers, that she’d likewise become his.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” she asked when they pulled apart for air.

“I’m something,” he said, wrapping his hands around her hips and tugging her against him, against his hard cock, his lips finding hers.

“Did you buy condoms?” she asked, tearing her lips from his to suck in air.

He gave her that slow, wicked smirk. “What do you think?”

“I think that you’re a man who’s always prepared.”

Hoisting her up, his mouth dropping to her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the sensitive spot, he spoke against her skin. “That’s the correct answer.”

She laughed, tugged his head back up, and stole his lips in a searing kiss that left her heart pounding, her lungs burning for air. Then she nodded toward the bedroom. “Turns out I’m a little tired,” she said. “Maybe you can show me the proper way to use my mattress?”

“Is that a thing?” he asked, already moving in that direction.

She dug her nails into his shoulders when he nipped at her earlobe, sending heat scorching through her body. Rotating her head, she did some nipping of her own. “If it gets you inside me sooner, then, yes, it is.”

His eyes seared into hers, and she found herself on the bed a heartbeat later.

And it turned out, he could show her the proper way to use her mattress.

Twice.

Twenty-One

Brad

He stared at the woman who’d stolen his heart and smiled.

She was too fucking cute, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, tight jeans encasing the sexy legs he’d spent a copious amount of time in between this last month. Her color was high from her exertion on the trail, but she hadn’t once complained that he’d hauled her out of bed on a Saturday morning before sunrise and had driven her out to this regional park.

That had probably been helped by the hot coffee and two huge banana chocolate chip muffins he’d used to coax her out from beneath the covers.

Luckily for him, she was a morning person, and though she’d grumbled and groaned a little bit, she’d quickly gotten into the spirit of the adventure.

Now, they’d reached the precipice of that sharp incline and could see the view he’d known would be spectacular, but that was made even more so by Heidi being next to him.

She sank down onto a bench, and he plunked down next to her, warning, “I’m all sweaty,” when she cuddled up next to him.

“Well, I am, too,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and snuggling her head into his chest. “Two sweaties make a right.”

He laughed, but then the sun made it fully over the horizon behind them, its rays flying forward to glimmer over the ocean in front of them, making the moisture in the air sparkle like golden smoke, or maybe like some sort of otherworldly magical power. Lifting his camera, he took several shots of the gorgeous display. But then his focus—and the camera lens—drew back down, and he took pictures of Heidi.

Who, once she realized what he was doing, blushed and hid her face in his chest. “Close-up, much?” she said against his T-shirt.

He laughed but set the camera aside, cupping the side of