His Young Maid: A Forbidden Boss Age Gap Romance by Daisy Jane (romantic love story reading txt) 📕

“Oh,” his voice goes deep, adjusting to the new sensation I’ve given him. “Um, it’s in downtown Bridgeport, highly populated strip downtown. I just said downtown, didn’t I?” he rolls his neck and glances at his hand, which I now have pressed directly on top of the seam of my body, throbbing and wet.

“Three times,” I respond, amazed that I remembered. God, I love what I’m doing to him.

“Anyway, I’m keeping the current businesses there but I thought after you got out of culinary school, if you wanted to open your own bakery with Melody or by yourself, you could choose which of those locations you’d like.”

I don’t forget where his hand his, and I don’t pretend I can’t feel his long, thick fingers move gently against the cotton fabric, his body easing closing towards me, the smell of hot leather and our skin burning between us. But I do pause.

“What?” I can’t quite process.

“And I’ll put it in your name, when you’re ready. It will be yours, completely. And if you want me to find someone to run the business side, I will find someone. And if you want to learn how to do the books and all that on your own, I’ll find the best person out there for you, to teach you.” He leans forward and kisses my neck, damp with sweat, hair peeling away on his lips as he leans back.

“I’m nervous,” I say, wiping at the sweat on my neck.

“Don’t be,” he kisses me again in that same place and I feel my lower half melt into the seat.

“You bought me a primetime location for a bakery?” I can’t believe it as I say it out loud. “I haven’t even applied to culinary school, Brooks. I haven’t, I mean, I didn’t…” I trail off.

In the time that we’ve spent together, I’ve told him about my mom making me take general education classes at the junior college until I had to drop out. I told him I wanted to be a baker, but beyond it being a crazy little hobby, I never told him just how much I wanted it.

“I saw it, when you told me about Melody going to culinary school, I saw it in your eyes. If you want this, I want to help you get it. But if it’s too much pressure and you don’t want it, know that you can tell me. You can tell me anything, Britta.”

For the first time in my life, I believe and trust another person with my entire being. I trust Brooks more than I ever trusted my mom. Too many times she promised to do better, come home, not drink, save that money, whatever it was—it was perpetual cycle of broken trust and disappointment.

Brooks had worked the last six weeks to prove to me I could trust him and that my heart was safe with him.

And I now know it is.

24

Britta

I want it, I do, but I have to disappoint him now by telling him I’ve not even looked into culinary school yet. I hadn’t got that far in planning my future. I didn’t really see a future until I met Brooks.

“I’ve not really made a plan for school. I mean, it was so faraway with all that debt I owed,” my voice is small and when I meet his eyes, I see he’s listening, hearing me, not just dismissing me like most people.

“Let me help you,” he says, smoothing my hair away from my face, his other hand still nestled between my legs. “You can go wherever you want. If you want to go to Manchester in Connecticut with Melody, you can. You just have to tell me what you want.”

I’ve never been asked this. A simple question, by all means, but still, no one has ever asked me what I really want. I’ve been told what I needed to do, I’ve had it implied what I should do, and I’ve felt the overwhelming pressure of obligation before, too. But never, not once, have I been served a platter of beautiful choices to pick and pull apart, to concoct my own dream, taste my own perfect flavor of happiness.

“I love you,” I say it again and find his lips across the console, drive my tongue into his mouth, sweep his flavor back into mine. He could be the only thing I ever taste for the rest of my life. Not even a macaron would be this sweet.

“But I don’t want to go away to Connecticut without you,” I admit, sheepishly. Maybe another girl would’ve wanted to do it alone, experience school and college on her own. But now that I’d met Brooks, I couldn’t imagine anything without him. Culinary school and a bakery of my own was a tremendous gift but without love, even the best gifts looked tarnished and lacking. Love made it all worth it.

“You can live in the dorms or we can find you a place—much safer and nicer than this. You’ll never live anywhere like that again,” he glances up at the apartment above the Chinese food restaurant, the one where my few things still reside.

“Or,” he curls his fingers into me and I lift on a moan, wild and breathless. His hands on me feel like the end of the world closing in around me, so fucking good.

“I buy a place in Connecticut and we live there together and I go into the city when I need to, otherwise, I do meetings virtually.” He presses his lips against my neck, down to my collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hidden flesh below my fuzzy white sweater.

“Oh Brooks,” my fingers filter through his hair and I tug at him gently, needing to taste his lips. We kiss, his tongue sweeps through my mouth and he bites my bottom lip gently before pulling away.

“Is it too much too fast?” he smooths a thumb across my