long look at his erection on the visual journey down. Definitely aroused. She repressed a smile.
“I’d like to, but I can’t afford to ignore the pending opening to focus on a few odd events. How did you phrase it earlier? What I want isn’t what I need.” She smiled at him, crossing her arms under her breasts and pushing her cleavage above her tank’s neckline.
Predictably, his gaze followed. He swallowed hard.
“Don’t ignore the danger because you’re angry with me.”
Alyssa wondered why she mattered to him at all. Interesting question . . .
“I’m not. Just stating facts.”
With that, she pulled away from his grip and spun around. She had a suspicion that Luc was used to being in control and getting the last word in. He wouldn’t like it if she turned her back on him now—especially if the view included her skirt clinging very low on her hips and exposing the rose tattoo on her lower back.
With a sway of her hips, she prowled toward the nearest stainless steel counter, stroked its sleek surface . . . and waited. She barely heard him cover the handful of steps separating them before he fisted her hair in his hand and forced her gaze up to his.
“Stop pissing me off,” he growled.
“Stop telling me how to react.”
Luc’s mouth tightened, as did his grip on her hair. Alyssa merely sent him a challenging stare and a matching smile.
Something about this argument was getting to him, revving his blood. The gentlemanly Southern chef had a nasty side, and she was making him feel it.
“Damn you!” His mouth crashed over hers.
He shoved her against the counter as he pushed past her lips, into the hot cavern of her mouth, and inhaled her all at once. His tongue was everywhere, possessing, tasting—branding. In an instant, her body burned, blood tingling. She clutched at his starched white shirt, grabbing the collar to pull him closer.
Luc was everything she remembered—full of finesse, power, steel covered in silk, insistent—and more. Never had a man’s kiss alone made her wet and aching, made her long to be closer to him in every way.
She ran her hands down his body, feeling every bulge of his shoulders, every ripple of his chest. Her palm flitted down his six-pack—and kept descending. Oh, so slowly, she dragged her hand over his erection. He hissed in a shocked breath, breaking the kiss, and hardened beneath her touch.
Smiling, she reached for his fly.
He groaned. “Alyssa, we—”
She palmed him again, squeezing his cock, then flicked the button of his pants open. His zipper went down, a bare rasp in the otherwise quiet. Then she ran her thumb over the sensitive crest.
“Dear God.” He sucked in a breath. “We shouldn’t . . .”
She said nothing, but simply sank to her knees.
Chapter Four
B EFORE Luc could stop Alyssa, she’d pushed his pants and briefs to his hips and taken his cock in her hand.
To be fair, he didn’t try very hard to stop her.
The moment her palm wrapped around his erection, he sizzled, jolted as if he’d been pumped full of a thousand volts. God, everything about her was potent, overwhelming. He was drowning—the feel of her tight grip, the silkiness of her golden hair in his hands, the gut-punching sight of her licking her lips.
“Alyssa,” he hissed.
Shit . He had to stop this. But how, when he wanted her so badly?
He’d eschewed sex for weeks. After his night with Alyssa, he’d pinned all his hopes for a child on Kimber and Deke, single-mindedly bedding the girl every bit as often as his cousin. But he’d be lying if he said Alyssa hadn’t lingered in his thoughts. Being with Kimber had been absorbing. He realized later it had been the situation . . . not the woman. After that, he’d pushed aside his sex drive in favor of a future, a wife who would be the sort of devoted mom his own was.
Now the woman he’d ached for since that wild, dark night was on her knees in front of him, and God help him, he didn’t have the willpower to stop
“I’d like to, but I can’t afford to ignore the pending opening to focus on a few odd events. How did you phrase it earlier? What I want isn’t what I need.” She smiled at him, crossing her arms under her breasts and pushing her cleavage above her tank’s neckline.
Predictably, his gaze followed. He swallowed hard.
“Don’t ignore the danger because you’re angry with me.”
Alyssa wondered why she mattered to him at all. Interesting question . . .
“I’m not. Just stating facts.”
With that, she pulled away from his grip and spun around. She had a suspicion that Luc was used to being in control and getting the last word in. He wouldn’t like it if she turned her back on him now—especially if the view included her skirt clinging very low on her hips and exposing the rose tattoo on her lower back.
With a sway of her hips, she prowled toward the nearest stainless steel counter, stroked its sleek surface . . . and waited. She barely heard him cover the handful of steps separating them before he fisted her hair in his hand and forced her gaze up to his.
“Stop pissing me off,” he growled.
“Stop telling me how to react.”
Luc’s mouth tightened, as did his grip on her hair. Alyssa merely sent him a challenging stare and a matching smile.
Something about this argument was getting to him, revving his blood. The gentlemanly Southern chef had a nasty side, and she was making him feel it.
“Damn you!” His mouth crashed over hers.
He shoved her against the counter as he pushed past her lips, into the hot cavern of her mouth, and inhaled her all at once. His tongue was everywhere, possessing, tasting—branding. In an instant, her body burned, blood tingling. She clutched at his starched white shirt, grabbing the collar to pull him closer.
Luc was everything she remembered—full of finesse, power, steel covered in silk, insistent—and more. Never had a man’s kiss alone made her wet and aching, made her long to be closer to him in every way.
She ran her hands down his body, feeling every bulge of his shoulders, every ripple of his chest. Her palm flitted down his six-pack—and kept descending. Oh, so slowly, she dragged her hand over his erection. He hissed in a shocked breath, breaking the kiss, and hardened beneath her touch.
Smiling, she reached for his fly.
He groaned. “Alyssa, we—”
She palmed him again, squeezing his cock, then flicked the button of his pants open. His zipper went down, a bare rasp in the otherwise quiet. Then she ran her thumb over the sensitive crest.
“Dear God.” He sucked in a breath. “We shouldn’t . . .”
She said nothing, but simply sank to her knees.
Chapter Four
B EFORE Luc could stop Alyssa, she’d pushed his pants and briefs to his hips and taken his cock in her hand.
To be fair, he didn’t try very hard to stop her.
The moment her palm wrapped around his erection, he sizzled, jolted as if he’d been pumped full of a thousand volts. God, everything about her was potent, overwhelming. He was drowning—the feel of her tight grip, the silkiness of her golden hair in his hands, the gut-punching sight of her licking her lips.
“Alyssa,” he hissed.
Shit . He had to stop this. But how, when he wanted her so badly?
He’d eschewed sex for weeks. After his night with Alyssa, he’d pinned all his hopes for a child on Kimber and Deke, single-mindedly bedding the girl every bit as often as his cousin. But he’d be lying if he said Alyssa hadn’t lingered in his thoughts. Being with Kimber had been absorbing. He realized later it had been the situation . . . not the woman. After that, he’d pushed aside his sex drive in favor of a future, a wife who would be the sort of devoted mom his own was.
Now the woman he’d ached for since that wild, dark night was on her knees in front of him, and God help him, he didn’t have the willpower to stop
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