himself from urging her mouth closer to his throbbing cock.
“You want this?” she whispered.
“Yes!” he bellowed, struggling for control . . . and failing. “Yes.”
She opened her mouth, started to ease forward. Then she stopped. “You’re sure?”
Now she was taunting him. That teasing allure had been his undoing three months ago, turned what should have been a normal night of sex into an unforgettable marathon in which he’d been determined to . . . He almost didn’t have words for his urge. Put some sort of stamp on her. Leave his mark. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get the same treatment in her very own kitchen.
“Suck me,” he demanded, his voice low and harsh.
Alyssa sent him another of those playful smiles. “Yes, sir.”
Her words set his blood on fire. God, she was going to destroy him. This wasn’t smart, and he knew it. At the moment, he didn’t fucking care. He had to get her mouth around him, had to feel her tongue lash him, see her submissive at his feet.
Why now? Why this woman?
She moved in, parted her lips. Luc widened his stance, bracing himself for the first electric lick, his whole system jacked up on lust and need to possess. Then Alyssa exhaled on the sensitive head of his dick, and he shivered. Sensation rioted, and he held his breath. Trembled.
Her tongue peeked out. It was the most fucking erotic thing he’d ever seen. Closer, closer . . .
“Hello?” a woman called from the dining room. “Anyone here?”
Her heels clicking across the hardwood floors, toward the kitchen, finally registered in Luc’s lust-saturated brain. Shit!
Alyssa rocked back on her heels, then stood. She cast a regretful glance down at his cock, then brushed a soft hand across his face.
Even her hand on his cheek sent sparks colliding inside him, and he cursed and pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants and righting his shirt.
As painful as this was, maybe he should be grateful for the reprieve. Whoever had arrived had just saved him from making a terrible mistake. Because no way would he have stopped at a blow job.
Regret softened Alyssa’s face. “Luc—”
“See who it is,” he barked.
She sighed and made her way out of the kitchen to intercept the new arrival. Luc stood behind a counter, panting, willing his cock to stand down. He couldn’t be meeting his brigade for the week with an erection like this.
Why did Alyssa drive him to reckless acts he knew weren’t good for him? Why did he let her?
Moments later, she returned with one of the sous chefs, Misa. He remembered her résumé, and she seemed both competent and excited for the job. A little starstruck, which always made Luc shake his head. Despite having a lot of bestselling cookbooks and a solid reputation in the culinary world, he found the whole “fame” thing odd. Thankfully, the petite Hispanic woman got over it quickly and took direction well.
The rest of the staff appeared in the next few minutes, and Luc talked them through the process. He assigned duties, and they cooked a few of the specials as a team to ensure that everyone knew what to do and they worked out any kinks before opening their doors. Tomorrow would be their mock service night, so they’d be open only to people Alyssa had invited, who had agreed to provide feedback.
She excused herself a moment later to confer with the waitstaff gathered in the dining room. As the smells of the kitchen wafted around Luc, and he looked around at the smart, proficient team of chefs Alyssa had assembled—without his help—he was impressed all over again. She was a damn smart woman.
And admiring her was only going to screw with his head more. Already, he wanted her so badly he could barely concentrate. Liking more than her body would only be a double dose of stupid. But he feared it was already too late. What would happen after her evening at the club, when they went to her little house—and they were alone?
MEETINGS concluded, Alyssa climbed
“You want this?” she whispered.
“Yes!” he bellowed, struggling for control . . . and failing. “Yes.”
She opened her mouth, started to ease forward. Then she stopped. “You’re sure?”
Now she was taunting him. That teasing allure had been his undoing three months ago, turned what should have been a normal night of sex into an unforgettable marathon in which he’d been determined to . . . He almost didn’t have words for his urge. Put some sort of stamp on her. Leave his mark. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get the same treatment in her very own kitchen.
“Suck me,” he demanded, his voice low and harsh.
Alyssa sent him another of those playful smiles. “Yes, sir.”
Her words set his blood on fire. God, she was going to destroy him. This wasn’t smart, and he knew it. At the moment, he didn’t fucking care. He had to get her mouth around him, had to feel her tongue lash him, see her submissive at his feet.
Why now? Why this woman?
She moved in, parted her lips. Luc widened his stance, bracing himself for the first electric lick, his whole system jacked up on lust and need to possess. Then Alyssa exhaled on the sensitive head of his dick, and he shivered. Sensation rioted, and he held his breath. Trembled.
Her tongue peeked out. It was the most fucking erotic thing he’d ever seen. Closer, closer . . .
“Hello?” a woman called from the dining room. “Anyone here?”
Her heels clicking across the hardwood floors, toward the kitchen, finally registered in Luc’s lust-saturated brain. Shit!
Alyssa rocked back on her heels, then stood. She cast a regretful glance down at his cock, then brushed a soft hand across his face.
Even her hand on his cheek sent sparks colliding inside him, and he cursed and pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants and righting his shirt.
As painful as this was, maybe he should be grateful for the reprieve. Whoever had arrived had just saved him from making a terrible mistake. Because no way would he have stopped at a blow job.
Regret softened Alyssa’s face. “Luc—”
“See who it is,” he barked.
She sighed and made her way out of the kitchen to intercept the new arrival. Luc stood behind a counter, panting, willing his cock to stand down. He couldn’t be meeting his brigade for the week with an erection like this.
Why did Alyssa drive him to reckless acts he knew weren’t good for him? Why did he let her?
Moments later, she returned with one of the sous chefs, Misa. He remembered her résumé, and she seemed both competent and excited for the job. A little starstruck, which always made Luc shake his head. Despite having a lot of bestselling cookbooks and a solid reputation in the culinary world, he found the whole “fame” thing odd. Thankfully, the petite Hispanic woman got over it quickly and took direction well.
The rest of the staff appeared in the next few minutes, and Luc talked them through the process. He assigned duties, and they cooked a few of the specials as a team to ensure that everyone knew what to do and they worked out any kinks before opening their doors. Tomorrow would be their mock service night, so they’d be open only to people Alyssa had invited, who had agreed to provide feedback.
She excused herself a moment later to confer with the waitstaff gathered in the dining room. As the smells of the kitchen wafted around Luc, and he looked around at the smart, proficient team of chefs Alyssa had assembled—without his help—he was impressed all over again. She was a damn smart woman.
And admiring her was only going to screw with his head more. Already, he wanted her so badly he could barely concentrate. Liking more than her body would only be a double dose of stupid. But he feared it was already too late. What would happen after her evening at the club, when they went to her little house—and they were alone?
MEETINGS concluded, Alyssa climbed
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