Deliciously Sinful (14 page)

H
er dad still hadn’t come home from his day out with Sherry. Nick and Phoebe had gone to the beach. Which meant Jesse was alone.

Lying on her bed, reading a biography of Julia Child, she tried not to even look at her computer. But it seemed to be calling to her.

Jesse!
it was saying.
We have lots of culinary schools for you to research! New York, Madrid, Paris…Come check us out!

“No,” she said aloud. Then she slammed the book shut and flopped onto her stomach. She was going crazy. Was she really talking out loud to her computer?

Yeah, Jesse. You are.

It was like torture. Why would she do that to herself? Going to culinary school was totally out of the question. For one thing, they were all off-the-hook expensive. And for another thing, she could not leave her father.

Come to San Francisco; it’s not that far away!

But that wasn’t where she wanted to go. She wanted out. She wanted totally different. Sure, San Francisco had a decent culinary school. But she wanted to go someplace totally unlike what she knew. Somewhere out of California, out of the entire country.

She thought about Bear. He was living his dream, traveling the world. Every time he came back to town, she loved hearing his stories, especially since so many of them involved the local cuisine made from food he’d helped cultivate.

But even while she envied Bear, she couldn’t quite forgive him for breaking his engagement to Phoebe. Her aunt had taken the news gracefully, but Jesse wasn’t so dense that she didn’t know it had affected her aunt more than Phoebe would ever admit, even to herself.

Breaking the engagement had been hard on Phoebe, but they all understood that Bear would never be happy living a stationary existence here in Redbolt. And part of Jesse envied that he had the guts to pursue his dreams, living his life on his own terms. Even if it meant hurting those around him.

Jesse wished she had the guts to do the same.

So she pushed herself off the bed and headed toward her computer. Why was she opening her browser and typing in the web address to the school in Paris? She knew the address by heart now, and she reread the pages that she’d already read dozens of times before.

The courses included stocks, sauces, forcemeats, and dough…mastery of “haute cuisine”…and what she really wanted to learn was the French language for gastronomy.

She sighed. Julia Child went to France and came back one of the most renowned chefs in the world. Not that Jesse thought she was anything like Julia, but still. What an adventure it would be!

She heard a car pull into the gravel driveway, and she immediately shut down her computer. Then she went to her bedroom window to see who had pulled up.

It was her father and Sherry. Her dad bounded out the driver’s side of the car and jogged around to open Sherry’s door.

Jesse put her hand to her mouth. Was that really her dad? He laughed at something Sherry said. And as she got out of the car, he held out his hand to take hers, helping her to her feet.

She touched his shoulder. Sherry. Was touching. Her dad’s shoulder.

And he didn’t seem to mind.

Jesse’s first reaction was shock. She’d never seen a woman who wasn’t related to her father show affection. And she’d certainly never seen her dad smile quite the way he was currently, not at any other woman.

Her dad looked downright happy.

Through the window, Jesse watched them come into the house. Her father shuffled along, his hands in his pockets. But there was no denying the fact that his expression was joyful. Content.

Jesse hadn’t seen her father look truly content since before her mom died.

Was it actually possible that her father was developing a crush on a woman who wasn’t Jesse’s mom?

She went back to her bed and sat down. It was interesting, and normally nothing would have made Jesse happier than seeing her dad cheerful. But she couldn’t deny the fact that Sherry was here for only a little while. What happened when she left?

If her dad really did develop feelings for this woman, what would happen then? When she went home?

Her dad would be sad once again. And alone.

Jesse pulled a dread out of her scarf and twisted it around her finger. It would be just one more reason that she could never leave this town.

W
hen Nick came back to shore, his basket was nearly overflowing with oysters. He was grinning, and his joy was infectious. Phoebe had to smile back at him. Her heart skipped when she saw the pure joy on his face. So rarely did she see him like this—she absorbed it like a sponge cake soaks in a cream sauce. And the feeling was just as delicious.

She glanced at her own basket. She’d harvested a few oysters, but mainly she’d just ambled around the rocks. Instead of oysters, she’d found some gorgeous shells to add to her collection.

“Wow.” She glanced at his basket. “You hit the jackpot.”

“I know. Let’s fire up a few of these babies.”

“What? Here?”

“Of course, here.” He glanced around. “I’ll just find some driftwood that’s dry enough to burn.”

“O-ok-kay.”

It was as if he’d just noticed she was there. His gaze assessed her in one big sweep. “You’re freezing.”

“N-no.” But she was. It was getting late, and even though it was foggy, the sun had provided a bit of warmth. Now, as it became darker, the cold was seeping into her bones.

Dropping the basket, he came to her and wrapped her in a big hug. She couldn’t help it; she sank into his warmth. He rubbed her back with his big, strong hands. She buried her nose in his sweater, inhaling the scent of the sea and him. Nick. The ocean with all its pungent smells couldn’t take away from how she felt when she buried her nose into Nick’s body and smelled his own unique, spicy scent that turned her insides into a puddle of mush.

“Let’s go home and get you warmed up.”

“I thought you wanted to build a fire.”

“I do, but not if you’re going to die of hypothermia.”

“I’ll be fine once we get a fire going.” For some reason, she wasn’t ready to leave, even if she was shivering from the chilly air.

Holding her shoulders, he pulled back and looked her in the eye. “You’re sure?”

She nodded.

“Right. Okay, hang on.” He jogged off toward the Land Cruiser. After a while he came running back. His arms were full, and he nodded to his right. “Come on.”

She was surprised when he led her to a grouping of rocks that circled a patch of sand. In the center of the rocks were the remains of many previous bonfires. She knew he’d never been to this beach before. He must have scoped the spot out when they’d first arrived.

He sat her down and wrapped a wool blanket around her shoulders. “Just wait, I’ll have you warmed up in a few moments.”

She could simply nod. Who knew Nick Avalon was such a Boy Scout? Determinedly, he went about gathering dry wood, and then returned with an armful and dropped the pile onto the sand.

It didn’t take him long to get a nice fire going. Obviously, he’d done this before. One swift strike from a match and he had a burning ember going, which soon had the entire pile of wood blazing with heat.

Phoebe held her hands out in front of the fire. “How did you become such an outdoorsman?”

He shrugged. “I used to spend a lot of time outside when I was a kid.”

“In England?”

“Yeah. We lived near Portsmouth.”

“Is that where you learned so much about the ocean? And building fires?”

“I suppose.” He dumped the contents of her basket into a tan canvas bag and placed the now-empty wire container over the fire. Staring into the orange flames, he went on. “I’d do anything to get out of my house.”

“Really? Why was that?”

But he’d shut down—she could see it in his blue eyes. And by now, she knew better than to push him.

“I just liked being outside.” He poured the majority of the oysters that he’d harvested into the canvas bag, but left a few in the basket. He then stacked the basket with the remaining oysters onto the one already placed in the fire.

He stared down at her, and she could see the orange blaze reflected in his blue eyes. His demeanor had changed. Gone was the Boy Scout. Nick Avalon, sexy bad boy, was back. She saw it in the gleam in his eye, and the way he slanted her that wicked grin.

“Now. Are you ready for something delicious?”

She nodded. “Yes, Nick. I am.”

He pulled a pair of tongs from his back pocket. “Then be a good girl for me. I want to feed you.”

I
want to feed you.

Such a simple statement, but it made her stomach quiver. When he spoke to her like that—those simple commands of his—it did funny things to her brain.

She wanted to obey. She wanted to give in.

She wanted to trust him. She wanted to so badly it hurt. But every ounce of what was left of her self-preservation was telling her not to.

Still, she found herself walking to the edge. Ready to jump. Ready to let him catch her.

“Here.” He extracted his flask from his pants pocket, untwisted the cap, and held the bottle out to her.

She wasn’t much for tequila, but she took the flask anyway and brought it to her lips. The liquid burned its way down her throat and landed in her stomach. She shuddered.

“That good, eh?” Nick said with a smile.

She nodded. “I’m just not used to drinking anything but wine.”

“Sometimes it’s good to mix things up.”

Eyeing him, she said, “That is very true.” And she took another sip. A gulp, actually.

“Slow down, killer. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

She scoffed. “Right.”

“Oh, you’re such a big drinker, are you?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean a few sips of tequila are going to knock me out.” To prove her point, she took another. And shuddered once again as it flowed through her body.

But she could already feel the effects of the alcohol.

She licked her lips. “I like tequila.”

“So do I,” he said, taking back his flask.

He sipped from the bottle, and they both stared into the fire. She was warming up, and she wasn’t sure if it was the fire, the tequila, or the sexual energy pulsing between them.

Eventually he took the tongs and poked around the pile of oysters cooking inside the basket. He glanced up at her. “Clasp your hands behind your back.”

For about half a second, she thought about arguing with him. But really, what was the point? She knew damn well she wasn’t going to deny him anything.

More to the point, she wasn’t going to deny herself anything.

She moved to hold her hands at the base of her spine.

The opened oyster in his hand, Nick brought it to her mouth and tilted the shell. She opened her lips and let the smooth oyster flesh slide into her mouth.

“That’s a good girl. Swallow it down for me.”

Swallow…She wanted to swallow more than an oyster. She wanted to feel his cock in her mouth and suck it until she could swallow his very essence.

But for now, she obeyed and settled for an oyster.

Of course, he’d cooked the oyster flesh perfectly. It was barely seared, and the taste of the fresh salty tissue needed no seasonings other than what the sea naturally had provided. It slid down her throat.

Of course, she’d heard that oysters were an aphrodisiac. She happened to know that the idea was total folklore. However, she couldn’t disagree with the fact that there was something very sexy about the way Nick fed her. No, the lust coursing through her veins had nothing to do with the chemical effects of the seafood.

Adrenaline raced in her blood, causing her heart to pound, and she felt little tremors rack her body. Because, as she’d been telling herself since the second she’d seen Nick Avalon walk into her café, he was dangerous. She’d been telling herself to stay away. To be the boss. To not succumb.

So why was she sitting on a rock on the beach with her hands behind her back? Why was she letting him feed her scrumptious, fresh oysters?

The answer was easy. She wanted to.

She realized she not only wanted to give him more power in the café, but also more power over her. She liked it. It was fun. She liked him. She figured if she could take a chance and let the café be vulnerable to Nick, why couldn’t she do the same thing for herself?

His gaze was fixated on her mouth, and she thought she should try to make this whole situation as normal as possible. Despite the fact that her hands were still clasped behind her, they were just eating, right? He was just feeding her?

And yet it was so much more than that. Due to her position, her breasts jutted out. And they were warm and tingly. They were wanting, aching.

She was getting used to his touch, and her body squirmed with the need to feel his hands on her.

Looking up at him, she licked her lips, wanting him to know she was ready to be fed. Pressing her legs together in an attempt to tamper down her throbbing pussy, she watched Nick’s mouth as he ate.

And as he ate, he watched her mouth. His blue eyes were dark in the dim light and sparkled as his gaze moved up to fix on hers. Her heart skipped. What was it about this man that could turn her to mush in a simple glance?

She watched him as he swallowed. She fixated on the corded muscles of his neck, the way they moved. The ocean crashed against the shore. The fire shot up a blast of a spark. Nothing distracted her from him. From watching him. From simply being near him.

Watching Nick eat was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She wondered if she’d ever be able to have their pre-dinner-rush meals together in the café without jumping his bones.

Probably not. She was more at ease with the idea than she might like to be.

She was totally unsure what normal actually consisted of anymore. This—this moment—felt nothing but normal. The sea, the fire, the food. Being with Nick. This feeling of excitement coursing through her. This was what felt good. Right.

She let him feed her. Her eyes drifted shut, and she tasted the slick oyster as it slid into her mouth.

“That’s my good girl,” he said. His voice was deep and husky. Her trembling moved from her limbs to her center. God, how she wanted him. She thought about the incident in the storage room, when he’d pushed her against the wall, pulled off her skirt, and spanked her.

That feeling. He’d had total control over her. And yet she’d felt free for the first time since she could remember. That feeling was here. Right
here
. Right now.

She could feel it. She was hovering over it. She craved it. She wanted to jump into it as if it were a pool of warm water.

She unclasped her hands and put them to the zipper of her jacket. Meeting his gaze, she started to unzip her coat.

“You want a good girl?” she asked.

He quirked a brow, but his stare remained fixed on hers. Nailed to hers.

“You like being my good girl, don’t you, Phoebe?” he asked.

She pulled the zipper down and shrugged it off her shoulder. “I’m not yours.”
Yet.
She couldn’t help it; the word just popped into her brain, and she tried to poke it away. But it was like a bubble floating around, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pop it.

Yet.

Her senses seemed to be amplified. The ocean sounds seemed like thunder, and the fire sparked like miniature bomb blasts. She thought her eardrums might explode. A crisp wind whispered against her warm cheeks and seemed to burn her skin. Her heart hammered in her chest, louder than any churning ocean waves.

The moon burned through the fog, shadowing Nick’s face in chiaroscuro shadows that hollowed out his cheekbones and highlighted the angle of his long, thin nose.

Do you want to be a good girl?

Above the blare of noise around them, the question resonated. Deafening.

Of course she did. She wanted to be Nick’s good girl. When she was playing that role, there was nothing else. No family, no restaurant, no farm. Just them.

She tossed her jacket onto the sand and smiled. Crossing her arms near the hems of her sweater and T-shirt, she tugged the clothing up. The glow from the fire illuminated the newly exposed skin of her belly. She smiled at him.

She lifted her sweater and shirt over her head and threw them on top of her jacket. Then she sat across from him. She smiled when she saw his gaze fall on her breasts, covered only in a cotton bra. She reached behind her back as she nibbled her lip.

She unclasped her bra and tossed it aside, where it joined the pile of clothes on the sand. “Of course I want to be a good girl, Nick. But you have to make me.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, her heart pounded a fraction faster. She’d just issued Nick Avalon a challenge. And she knew he wouldn’t back down.

Holy shit.

Nick’s mouth was dry. He couldn’t keep his gaze off Phoebe’s glowing skin. Looking at her taut breasts, he had to clench his hands to keep from feeling her up like a teenage boy at his first dance. Her nipples were rosy and tight in the open air, and he wanted to suck on them. Bite. He wanted to throw her down onto the sand and lick every inch of her exposed skin. He wanted to bury his hands in her hair as he ravished her mouth.

He wanted to taste the flavor of oysters and tequila on her tongue.

He wanted…What he wanted was to fuck her bloody brains out.

But no. She’d thrown down a gauntlet, and Nick had never been the sort of man who shied away from a battle. And that’s what Phoebe was offering him. A battle. But it was just an act. He could see it in her eyes; she wanted to be taken over. By him.

The thought gave him pause. Because he did feel a sense of possession over her, unlike what he’d felt for any of the women he’d been with before. In fact, the thought of anyone else touching her like he did made his stomach turn with the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy.

But he wasn’t going to focus on that now. Not when he had something so beautiful right in front of him. Waiting for him.

Shifting to give his aching cock some space, he slowly pulled the basket out of the fire and set it on a rock beside him. He glanced up to find her watching him. She was trying to look relaxed, but he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

He pushed himself off the rock and knelt before her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He lifted one of her feet and placed it on his knee. “You didn’t think you were just going to take off your shirt and leave the rest of your clothes on, did you?”

The saucy thing leaned back on her hands, basically pushing her breasts out at him.

Taking it slow was going to be a real problem.

“Can you ever answer a simple question?” she asked.

He began unlacing her boot. “Can you ever stop asking questions?”

“Yes. I just often choose not to.”

He threw her boot aside. “Now would be a really good time for you to practice the whole silence thing.”

“Make me.”

“Woman, you are driving me nuts.”

“I think you’re already nuts.”

He made quick work of her other boot and tugged it off her foot. “You definitely bring it out in me.”

“Ditto.”

Looking up at her face, he couldn’t help but smile. “You must have a death wish.”

Her expression changed, and he saw a flicker of panic flash in her eyes.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

He climbed onto his knees to pull off his sweater. Leaning into her, he watched her breath catch as he brought his face close to hers.

He pushed himself against her body, and through the fabric of his T-shirt, he felt her hard nipples and the soft flesh of her breasts.

“Nick. Why did you say I have a death wish?”

He gently rubbed his lips against hers. Her breath was hot and sweet against his mouth.

“Are you asking questions again?” he asked.

She nodded. “So answer me.”

“Sweetheart, you have a death wish because you fuck with me. No one else does that. And if they do, they heartily regret it.”

“Is that so?”

He pulled back an inch. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No.” But she was biting her lip.

“You are. You’re laughing at me.”

“I swear, I’m not.” A bubble of laughter escaped her mouth.

“You cheeky little bitch,” he said.

“It’s just that, I mean, I can see why some people would think you’re all big and scary.” She said the words
big
and
scary
in a sarcastic tone that should have annoyed the heck out of him.

“But I’m starting to think Nick Avalon isn’t very scary at all.”

It was cute. She was trying to convince herself that he wasn’t scary. However, despite her steady voice, he could see her hands were shaking. It was all an act.

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” He placed his hand on her breast and beaded a nipple between his fingers. She gasped.

“Come on, love. You know damn well you’re frightened of me. That’s what you like about me.” He whispered the words against her lips and gave her nipple a twist.

“Not. True.” But her words came out as breathy gasps.

He ran his tongue across her bottom lip. “You need to be scared of me, love. Trust me on that one.”

“I’m not…I don’t.”

He took her other breast in his free hand. Slowly he circled her nipple until he saw her breathing go more shallow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes…”

Just when he could feel her entire body go soft, he released her breasts and grabbed her shoulders. Jerking her against him, he kissed her.

Tongues collided. Teeth hit. Lips crushed. This kiss was churning, churning and as violent as the sea in the distance. And each second that passed, each second he held her to him and kissed her, he could feel the resistance draining out of her.

She tried to act so tough. But it was so easy.

He released her. Her eyelids drifted open, and she gazed up at him. Yeah. He could see it in her eyes. The spacey gleam that told him she was his.

His. The very idea scared the shit out of him. Because the idea of Phoebe being his made something in his chest tighten with want. This woman. He did want her. He did want to own her.

And, in return, he wanted her to own him back.

Bad thoughts. He shook them away.
Don’t think about that. Think about now. Sex. Fucking. Because in a few months this woman will hate you.

His stomach turned at the thought. He ignored it.

He grabbed the blanket that he’d tossed near their stuff, whipped it out, and threw it on the ground where it landed in a large square in the sand.

In one fluid motion, he yanked Phoebe to her feet and pushed her down onto the blanket. He followed her down, covering her body with his.