Page 13 of Sweet Temptation

“Keep wiggling, and it’s just going to get...harder...to stay seated.” Pressing his lips to the base of her neck, he trailed them down her nape, making her shiver.

“Since you seem to want to take this slowly, maybe I should get off your lap.” She didn’t want to, though. The hardness beneath her, the smell of his skin, the warmth of his arms around her—she liked it. Probably more than she should for something that was only—could only be—temporary.

“Nope.” Still holding her tight, he pulled a plate toward them. Her chef’s eye appreciated the artistic presentation, even as she sniffed to discern the different ingredients.

He lifted a small bite to her lips. Surprised, she turned her head as far as she could.

“You want to feed me?” Gesturing to the huge array of full plates, she laughed. “That could take all night.”

“I want to take care of you,” he corrected, pressing the bite to her lips. She hesitated, then opened, groaning at the tastes that spread out over her tongue like the heat spreading through her belly.

She was a strong woman. She identified goals and charged after them. She spoke her mind.

But here she was with someone willing to give her exactly what she wanted, what she craved. Even if it was only for a week, how the hell could she say no?

“Far be it from me to argue.” She chewed and swallowed. “I’d never pay for food like this on my own, but I’m not dainty enough to turn my nose up at it.”

“I don’t want someone dainty.” His words held a thread of impatience as he selected another bite and held it to her lips. “I want someone who will let me spoil them. Now, eat that and tell me what you taste.”

Meg chewed again, letting the flavors roll over her tongue. “It’s a scallop. There’s definitely ginger in there. And I think that umami flavor comes from seaweed, but there’s another layer I can’t put my finger on.”

“Sherry, according to the menu.” He took one for himself this time. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“The catering company.” She allowed him to feed her another bite, this time of boar belly with sweet potato, blueberry and morel mushrooms. “I started there at sixteen, just waitressing at events, but the owner let me hang out with her in the kitchen when she was cooking, and she taught me everything I know.”

“You didn’t want to learn from Mamesie?” He took another bite for himself, and she was jealous of the food for being against his wickedly full lips. “I’ve been to your house for dinner. She’s one hell of a cook.”

He would notice that. He noticed everything. She hesitated—she wasn’t big on sharing her private thoughts. She avoided social media like the plague because she just didn’t think anyone needed that much detail about her life. But this was John. He was a friend, of sorts, and about to be more. Sharing with him was surely okay.

“After our dad died...” Her voice trailed off. Saying anything bad about her family always felt like a betrayal. They’d survived by banding together...but sometimes she just needed some space to breathe. “I spent a lot of time giving. Helping Mamesie with the younger girls. Working to contribute to the household. Cooking, cleaning, helping with homework. And I don’t resent any of it, not at all. But having those cooking lessons, from someone who wasn’t part of the family...”

“You didn’t have to share.” He brushed a kiss over the slope of her shoulder, and she understood that he meant it to soothe rather than arouse.

Against her better judgment, she felt something fluttering in the vicinity of her heart. Before she could stop herself, she’d dipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting him absorb some of the responsibility, just for a second.

It felt...good. Amazing, even. She wanted more.

She couldn’t have it. This was not something she should be getting used to.

Yeah, he cared about her, at least a little bit, because their lives were connected, and he wasn’t a soulless monster. But he lived his life hotel room by hotel room, and she...she had so many commitments that she’d once cried when she’d missed a cooking lesson due to one of the girls having the flu.

She needed to get a grip.

“Speaking of sharing.” Shifting on his lap, she wiggled around so that she could see his face. “I don’t. Not with this. It’s only a week, so...do you think you can do that?”

Something flickered in his eyes, a shard of ice splintering, but then it was gone, and she thought she might have imagined it in the first place.

She yelped when he stood abruptly, advertising a truly impressive set of thigh muscles as he brought her with him, arms cradling her in a fireman’s hold. Her mouth dried up as he carried her across the room to the bed. Setting her down gently on the silky comforter, he fingered one of the slinky straps on her sundress, gaze boring down into hers, before stepping back.

“This might come as news to you.” He pulled the strap down, baring her shoulder, fingers dancing lightly along her skin. “But I don’t want anyone else.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHE HADN’T COME right out and called him a player, but she might as well have. And it shouldn’t have bothered him—hell, he’d once enjoyed the label, since it let potential bedmates know the score.

From Meg, though, it stung. And it was because it was from Meg. He didn’t fully understand it, but he wanted her in every single way. Wanted to claim her. Wanted to give her everything she wanted, and more.

For a week, a little voice in his head reminded him. He took a split second to absorb the reminder, to get a hold back on his legendary control.

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