wonderful man because of them, because I didn’t believe in myself. I sucked in a breath and held it, watching his beautiful eyes turn a darker brown.
“I also didn’t know if…you wanted me just for the sex, or if…you know….” His voice trailed off, sounding a bit wistful. “I never know if women really like me or not. Sometimes women they…just see the food and not…me.” He shrugged and looked damn cute doing it, even a little insecure. Wow . The notion that chefs had to fend off sex-crazed groupies caught me off guard. Totally. I mean, who’d be so nutty as to practically rape a chef over a dessert? Oh dear .
I cleared my throat. “I, uh, wow.” I thought back to our first night and could see how he’d totally think I was a one-night wonder, after one thing and one thing only: dessert. In a way, he’d be totally right. Except deep down, I’d wanted two things with equal desire.
“Dessert can erase the inhibitions in people.” He ran his finger along my bottom lip nice and slow.
I sighed at the contact. “Sometimes, it is all about the dessert,” I admitted. “But for me, the dessert just wasn’t enough.” I reached behind his neck and let my fingers sift through his thick, dark hair. “I wanted… more .”
His face lit up like a candle on a birthday cake. A very handsome cake. “I’m glad to hear that, my little cupcake,” he whispered, and kissed me on the forehead. “You are a complicated and fascinating woman.” He kissed me on each cheek and then brushed his lips over mine, sending tiny chills zinging up my spine. “I like that you have so many needs to satisfy.”
Wow. I decided not to add to those needs by springing my mother’s dinner plans on him and gave him my best shy smile sprinkled with predatory promises. From now on, I vowed, I’d start looking at myself differently. Not as a dessert-obsessed, oversize loner, but as a complicated and fascinating woman. A woman who fascinated chefs! “So…wait. I just have one question. If you were out of town, who delivered the pastry?”
“A sous-chef from the hotel.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear as he leaned closer, his warm wine and rich French food breath fanning my face. “Someone I swore to absolute secrecy. He called me every day to report on whether or not you’d eaten your gift. When he called me last night about the note, I knew something was wrong, so I drove back early to meet you.”
I made a very unladylike choke of surprise. “You did?”
“Of course I did.” His purr in my ear was full of heady promise. “You silly girl.”
My knees weakened and my gaze flicked to the box on my trunk and back to his. “What are we going to do with the cream puff though? It’s not right to abandon it. We should put it out of its misery.”
“Ah,” he said as he grabbed the box, slipped an arm around me, and guided me once more toward the building entrance. “Tonight I will show you all the different uses for whipped-cream filling, and I promise, you will be quite satisfied when I’m done.”
And damned if I wasn’t. Completely satiated, we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I tried to keep one eye open—just in case he made a run for it—but that didn’t work out. Snuggled into his warmth, I slept solid and deep until awakened by a firm cock nudging my backside and whispers of chocolate-sauce sex that had me moaning before my eyes were fully open. As his hands cupped my breasts and his teeth nibbled my neck, I knew we’d spend the perfect Saturday together.
Until our second round of coffee in bed when I remembered dinner at Mom’s…. If my myriad needs didn’t break his resolve, meeting my mom surely would. Gulp.
“Um…Max? Remember when you were hesitant to tell me about your son?”
“Yes, pumpkin.” Warm lips pressed the tip of my nose. “You are not angry with me, are you?”
I sat up straight, almost spilling the coffee. “No. I totally understand. It’s just
“I also didn’t know if…you wanted me just for the sex, or if…you know….” His voice trailed off, sounding a bit wistful. “I never know if women really like me or not. Sometimes women they…just see the food and not…me.” He shrugged and looked damn cute doing it, even a little insecure. Wow . The notion that chefs had to fend off sex-crazed groupies caught me off guard. Totally. I mean, who’d be so nutty as to practically rape a chef over a dessert? Oh dear .
I cleared my throat. “I, uh, wow.” I thought back to our first night and could see how he’d totally think I was a one-night wonder, after one thing and one thing only: dessert. In a way, he’d be totally right. Except deep down, I’d wanted two things with equal desire.
“Dessert can erase the inhibitions in people.” He ran his finger along my bottom lip nice and slow.
I sighed at the contact. “Sometimes, it is all about the dessert,” I admitted. “But for me, the dessert just wasn’t enough.” I reached behind his neck and let my fingers sift through his thick, dark hair. “I wanted… more .”
His face lit up like a candle on a birthday cake. A very handsome cake. “I’m glad to hear that, my little cupcake,” he whispered, and kissed me on the forehead. “You are a complicated and fascinating woman.” He kissed me on each cheek and then brushed his lips over mine, sending tiny chills zinging up my spine. “I like that you have so many needs to satisfy.”
Wow. I decided not to add to those needs by springing my mother’s dinner plans on him and gave him my best shy smile sprinkled with predatory promises. From now on, I vowed, I’d start looking at myself differently. Not as a dessert-obsessed, oversize loner, but as a complicated and fascinating woman. A woman who fascinated chefs! “So…wait. I just have one question. If you were out of town, who delivered the pastry?”
“A sous-chef from the hotel.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear as he leaned closer, his warm wine and rich French food breath fanning my face. “Someone I swore to absolute secrecy. He called me every day to report on whether or not you’d eaten your gift. When he called me last night about the note, I knew something was wrong, so I drove back early to meet you.”
I made a very unladylike choke of surprise. “You did?”
“Of course I did.” His purr in my ear was full of heady promise. “You silly girl.”
My knees weakened and my gaze flicked to the box on my trunk and back to his. “What are we going to do with the cream puff though? It’s not right to abandon it. We should put it out of its misery.”
“Ah,” he said as he grabbed the box, slipped an arm around me, and guided me once more toward the building entrance. “Tonight I will show you all the different uses for whipped-cream filling, and I promise, you will be quite satisfied when I’m done.”
And damned if I wasn’t. Completely satiated, we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I tried to keep one eye open—just in case he made a run for it—but that didn’t work out. Snuggled into his warmth, I slept solid and deep until awakened by a firm cock nudging my backside and whispers of chocolate-sauce sex that had me moaning before my eyes were fully open. As his hands cupped my breasts and his teeth nibbled my neck, I knew we’d spend the perfect Saturday together.
Until our second round of coffee in bed when I remembered dinner at Mom’s…. If my myriad needs didn’t break his resolve, meeting my mom surely would. Gulp.
“Um…Max? Remember when you were hesitant to tell me about your son?”
“Yes, pumpkin.” Warm lips pressed the tip of my nose. “You are not angry with me, are you?”
I sat up straight, almost spilling the coffee. “No. I totally understand. It’s just
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