Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen) (30 page)

Her thumb glided along the bulging head, spreading the moisture that had beaded at the tip. She bent forward and delivered a chaste brush of her lips that surprised him so much he jumped, but then she raised those killer blues to him, and chaste was nowhere in evidence. Only naughtiness.

An unhurried glide of that luscious pink tongue across her lips, sheened with his precome, produced a hum of pleasure from deep in her throat. She liked how he tasted and that turned him on so much he started to shake. She was a chef’s wet dream. His wet dream. A woman who enjoyed the salt and the sweet, the taste of his food and the taste of him.

His dick grew an extra couple of inches on the spot.

She fell to her knees and something inside him broke. She could have stayed sitting on the bed but that simple act of kneeling did it for him right there. She owned him now.

Sweet butterfly kisses were the opening course along his thigh; then her tongue licked higher with rich, velvet strokes before she took him in her mouth. Christ Almighty, it was all he could manage not to shoot off like an uncapped blender. A recipe. Run through a recipe.
Gougères
. Combine butter, milk, salt—

“Lili.” His hands cradled her head, intending to push her back to retain some grip on his sanity. Instead, he held her steady and planted his feet, digging his toes into the soft carpet. Anything to stop from thrusting because if he started, he wouldn’t stop and he needed to last. To make it good for them both. Her mouth, wet and warm, slid along his dick in a delicious rhythm. He swept her riotous hair back so he could get a better view of her lips and cheeks as she sucked. So damn pretty. His balls tightened with every draw but he forced his pleasure deep.

“That’s it, love. Just like that.”

He still couldn’t believe she’d chased him down, that she’d been brave enough to see past his bullshit and meet it head-on. Because let’s face it, a relationship with him was no pleasure trip along the Seine. He didn’t do anything by halves, and he needed a woman who was willing to travel that road with him. A woman who understood that he demanded a similar energy and passion because that was the only way he knew.

It was going to kill him if this wasn’t real.

Real or not, he knew how he wanted their first time to be, and as much as he loved what her mouth was doing, there was no way he was getting off like this. Fully primed and teetering on the edge, he coaxed her head back.

“Sweetheart, I need to be inside you.” He grabbed a condom from the pocket of his discarded jeans.

“Let me.” She took it and encouraged him to lie on his back so she could straddle him. Her assertiveness astonished him, turning his arousal up to a level he didn’t think possible. Any higher and his balls might never recover. Deftly, she rolled on the condom.

“I thought it had been a while,” he said, his tongue thick and rubbery.

“Oh, I’ve been keeping my hand in. Practicing on bananas.”

He laughed loudly, so at odds with what they were doing. Until Lili, he’d never wanted to laugh and fuck a woman at the same time. That quiet, dry humor of hers gave him as much pleasure as her clever hands and her lush body.

“Take off your bra.”

Eyes never leaving his, she unhooked and released her perfectly sculpted breasts.

“Look at you. So beautiful.” And she was. Achingly so. He ran his hands over her breasts, loving how responsive they were to his touch.

“Oh, Jack,” she murmured with a vulnerability that knocked his heart clear across the room.

He propped up on one elbow and gentled her head toward his. She needed to understand what was happening here even if he hardly understood it himself. “You slay me, Lili DeLuca. Utterly, completely.”

He heard her breath catch in her throat. Tears pooled in her eyes, flecking her lower lashes like diamonds when she blinked, but then she regrouped. Those shiny blues now blazed, fired with desire and longing and maybe some of that confidence he had to spare.

“Jack, I need you.” And with that, she lowered herself onto him slowly, so slowly he feared his brain would melt. He grasped her hips and pulled her down a couple of magnificent inches to the tune of her satisfied sigh.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “Feels so good.”

She took him in a little farther, panting while her body softened and adjusted. His cock thickened beyond what he thought possible and a winding pressure built at its base. Her tight, wet heat wrapped around him. Her fire, her body, his Lili. All wrapped around him.

Anchored to her, he knew that finally he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Chapter Nineteen

Lili’s body was hyperaware, every nerve teased and tensed. She had never felt so desired. So powerful. Jack had gone months without sex; he could have any woman he wanted, but he had held out for her. Okay, he’d held out three days for her but still.

Her planned outrage had fizzled the moment he opened that door and she saw a hollow-eyed Jack staring back at her. Hurt made people act ten kinds of crazy, and while she was the kind of person who internalized her pain, Jack wore his emotions on his sleeve, then wanted to talk about the soiled shirt. Passion that raw scared the hell out of her, but she knew she was the person to fill those deep pockets of sadness he wore, to give him what he needed and get what she needed in return. This time, this place, they could do for each other what no one else could.

As she rolled her hips, he arched to meet her, his fingers digging into her flesh so hard she suspected she might have bruises later. She contracted her muscles around his length, muscles that hadn’t been used in a while, and imagined they would have something to say about that later, too.

He lightly brushed his knuckles against her breast. A shivery tease, but she needed it rougher. She leaned into his touch, urging more pressure, and his thumbs dragged over her nipples and rolled. She almost died from pleasure. He slid his hands under her famous butt and raised it a couple of inches, reminding her of where she was. What she was doing. Jack was buried inside her, and a man’s hardness had never felt this good.

“Move with me,” he panted.

Slowly, she slid up, down, accelerating the pace in rhythm with the urgency of his hands. Every motion was slick and wet, pulsing through her with fluid heat.

He cupped her neck and drew her close. Their mouths joined hungrily, tongues meeting and getting along like a house on fire. She licked his stubbled jaw, his scar, his gorgeous, crooked mouth. Her own personalized tasting menu. Jack à la carte. The brush of his chest hair tickled and warmed her breasts, a strangely comforting sensation in the midst of all this down and dirty lust. She continued to slip up and down, her clitoris getting the love against his sleek, thick length. Arousal, sharp and urgent, surprised her and she moaned softly.

“Better,” he said. Not a question, just a statement of fact.

“Yes.”

He knew the right angles, the right moves, the right pressure. He knew her body and what she needed. He was in her head, reading her lusty thoughts before they could fire.
Yeah, just there. Baby, so good. Never, never stop.

She loved the feel of him, the silky slide of his skin against hers. Being on top, getting that deep, deep penetration. It had always been a favorite position but self-consciousness usually prevented her from enjoying it fully or even asking for what she wanted. But not now. In Jack’s eyes, she saw unguarded appreciation of her shapely, sexy body. She saw everything she had been missing.

His thick girth glided in and out of her, every downstroke caressing her core until her vision hazed. Such a simple motion, Jack filling her up, again and again, but it was too restrained. Too…British. She needed more. She needed to be broken open.

“Jack?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His fascinated gaze lifted from where their bodies joined. Halting the show for a moment, she settled and leaned in so close she could count every beautiful eyelash.

“I’m a big girl. Don’t be gentle.”

A very male sound rose in his throat, barely human but unmistakably Jack. He flipped her on her back and still managed to stay inside her. Not expecting that. Neither was she expecting his hot, deep reach as he impaled her to the root. She grasped the tightly loomed muscles of his excellent ass. She scratched and clawed. She might have hurt him but she didn’t care. His moans as he pounded her said he didn’t care all that much either.

She loved a man who could follow instructions.

She rocked with him as his powerful hips thrust him farther into her and he speared her with long, rhythmic strokes. Every motion generated waves of pleasure, starting with where their bodies connected, radiating through her belly, her rear, her breasts, and her toes, and back down the spokes again.

“Yes, that’s—ah, yes,” he moaned, and her body pulsed in agreement.

It’s never been this hot it’s so hot this can’t get any hotter.
And just as those thought fragments bonded, he hooked her leg up, creating an angle that had her close to losing the will to live. His other hand gentled her jaw, coaxing her to face him and meet that intimate green-gold gaze.

She resisted. She had to, knowing that as soon as she went there, she would come and it would be over. And
she
would be over because one look from Jack would confirm it had never been like this with anyone, and likely never would be again.

“Lili, please.”

His vibrating voice reached inside and lay siege to her heart. She was used to being needed but not like this, and that need in him jumbled with her need for him until they were entangled in a crush of mindless want. She opened her eyes and surrendered her fate to this man. Her man.

Her arousal heightened and a keen pleasure swept over her, around her, inside her. Thought, speech, none of it was necessary as her brain switched off and her blood and skin and nerve endings took over. Slowly, he raised his body up but his gaze never left hers, and she wanted him to look at her like that forever. She hit that flash point, wailing while her body convulsed and flew apart in pure sensation. Depth charges exploded at every nerve ending. Shards of pleasure lingered at each for a moment before returning to their source.

As she rode the dying shudders of her pleasure-drunk haze, he gave one final thrust. His jaw clenched; his neck muscles strained. Simply watching him was its own high. She felt him rattle and release before he went rigid and collapsed on top of her.

Quietly, she lay there, loving the weight of him and how he smelled and sweated and breathed. The natural fit of him in her body. Moments passed while he remained lodged deep, branding her from the inside out until he shifted them both on their sides to face each other. Hating to leave the heat of him, she inched back, but he clamped a big hand over her butt and draped her leg over his.

“Stay.” He was still wedged within, firmly filling her and my God, that was sexy. Most guys would be creeping to the other side of the king-size by now.

Forever,
she almost said. With a purr of assent, she slipped into a dreamy doze, loosely aware of his lips rasping her jaw and his hands roaming her curves. Learning her shape, making plans for later. When she opened her eyes again, he had left her body, but she didn’t feel cold. Light from the bedside lamp threw eyelash-smudged shadows on his cheeks, illuminating his big, dopey grin.

Blinking, she took a candid for her memories, then curled into his side.

“What are you smiling about?” Yep, she was shamelessly fishing.

He squeezed her tight to his chest. “I just got laid and it was damn near perfect.”

“Only near perfect?”

“Well, it was a little fast, but that’s understandable considering how desperate you’ve been. Next time, we’ll take it slower.”

She pinched his biceps to punish his cheekiness, but he didn’t even flinch. Ridiculous, hard muscles.

“Seriously, though,” he said. “I can’t remember it ever being this good.”

“Abstinence makes the penis grow fonder.”

“It’s not a line.”

She lifted her chin to study him. No, it wasn’t a line. He was more honest than anyone she knew but she refused to get caught up in his postcoital hype. Someone had to keep a clear head.

“You must have slept with—” Lots? Best to stop there. “Lots of women. You can’t possibly think that.”

“You’re the hottest, sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, and I love how you make me feel.” He swept her hair from her eyes and gifted her a wicked burn of a smile. “I’m not saying it to drag some matching confession out of you. It is what it is.”

Stunned, she laid her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart, the ultimate lie detector. It clacked along like a galloping horse, finding a rhythm with the hammering pulse all over her body. She felt the same way, though she didn’t have to dig deep for comparisons. No one had ever wrung this much pleasure from her. No one had ever made her feel this special. No one had ever cared enough to.

She traced a finger around his nipple and kissed it when it popped up to say hello; then she kissed lower. Over the most open heart she had ever known.

“Have I freaked you out?” he asked.

She nodded, but it turned into a sensuous cat rub against his delicious fur. Laying bare was so not her forte, and years of avoiding attention had produced coping mechanisms Freud would have a hard time unraveling. In spite of those guardrails, her heart rolled over, revealing its underbelly.