Page 3 of Never Enough

“Too fucking late,” he says. “Because she’s already married.”

And then Henry Blankenship kisses me.

chapter

two

Henry

I did not walk into the bakery planning to kiss Gracie. But when I walked in and saw that dipshit ex of hers kneeling in front of her with an open ring box, instinct took over. And once I pulled her soft, plump curves against my body, it was inevitable.

Her lips part in surprise beneath mine, a soft sound catching in her throat that goes straight to my cock. I keep it brief—reminding myself that I’m in the middle of my sister’s bakery—and if I give in to how much I want this woman, we’re going to get inappropriate real quick. When I pull back, she’s staring at me like I just upended her entire reality.

Andrew sputters. He clumsily comes to his feet. “I’m supposed to believe that the two of you are married?”

I shift our positions so that Gracie is behind me.

I lean closer to her worthless ex-boyfriend, just enough that only he can hear me.

“Walk away,” I say quietly. “Or I stop being polite.”

He looks between us, anger and humiliation warring on his face, then scoffs.

“This isn’t over,” he grounds out.

“It is,” I reply. “Trust me.”

He storms out.

I grab Gracie’s hand and pull her to the back of the bakery.

“What the hell was that?” Gracie hisses.

I let her pull me through the swinging door and into the prep area, where the noise of the bakery fades, and everything smells like sugar and warm bread.

She spins on me, eyes flashing. Pink stains her cheeks, and her breathing comes out in rapid little puffs. Adrenaline vibrates through her. I know because it’s still surging through me.

Her eyes drop to my lips, then she grabs the front of my shirt and kisses me.

She’s not careful. Definitely not tentative. No, her kiss is raw and unrestrained. She fits against me like muscle memory. Like instinct. Like something I’ve been denying myself for far too long.

For half a heartbeat, I forget where we are. Forget everything except the way her mouth moves against mine and the soft sound she makes in her throat.

I growl in my throat and walk her backward until her back is up against the walk-in freezer. That’s when everything in her shifts.

She pulls back first.

Her fingers go to her lips. “Oh my God.” She swallows visibly.

I back up a few steps to give her some space.

“I don’t know why I did that,” she says.

“I surprised you,” I say.

She makes a noncommittal noise in her throat.

“You just told my ex I’m married!” She bends over, her hands on her knees, her twin brown braids dangle at weird angles.