Page 10 of Falling for Paris
There was no avoiding it; he hated her and for no good reason. Sure, she felt compelled to speak up when provoked but it’s not like she said anything untrue. Hedidhave a superiority complex. Which she supposed he earned being a hotshot chef and all, but did he have to be so condescending?
“Why are you here if you think it doesn’t matter?” he stated scornfully.
She was done with this asshole. Nevermind apologies. Instead, Tori burst, “What iswrongwith you?!” because that just about summarized every interaction with him. He had the reputation of a culinary genius but, so far, all she could discern was that he was a jerk. Knowledgeable and impressive—which was annoying—but a jerk, nonetheless.
A huff of air left his lungs and Rafael shook his head. “You should leave.”
“Not before we clear the air and you tell me what the hell is your problem with me?!”
Suddenly, his restraint snapped. He spoke with growling intensity. “My problem is that my head chef is in Marseille instead of running this class. My problem is that I haven’t taught in a very long time and every second I’m in front of that kitchen lab I remember exactly why. And to top it all off, climate change is turning the city into a sweltering sewer.”
“So. Many. Problems. Somebody throw a pity party for you,” she droned sarcastically. “Nevermind entire countries suffering from environmental disasters, Rafael Lyon isuncomfortable! If you’re so hot, why in the world are you always wearing long sleeves? Seriously, all I hear is that you aren’t gettingexactlywhat you want. That doesn’t give you the right to talk down to people.”
He stared at her through the tirade. When she was done, the room was so quiet she could hear the surge of fiery blood that rushed to her head.
And then Rafael Baptiste Lyon walked. No, that wasn’t it. Hestalked.Slowly and deliberately approached till they were toe to toe. When she looked up, she saw his pupils had darkened. Onyx trapped in jade.
“You didn’t let me finish, Tori,” he growled through an expression she couldn’t read. The lines around his mouth softened yet his eyes glinted with sharp alertness. If she didn’t know any better, he looked like he was enjoying himself. Suddenly, something at the back of her head dinged with cognizance.
“You remember. You remember our meeting.” Only family and friends from her youth called her Tori. And only once would he have heard it.
“Yes, I remember. Though you’re the farthest thing from a nice college girl now, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t been that for a very long time,” she snickered. “And you”—she emphasized the word with a pointed finger—“you’re no longer the sweet boy who offered me kindness when I needed it.”
Before she could retract her finger, he grabbed her wrist. “You’re right about that. I’m far from kind. And you should know, Tori, you locked yourself in here with a man. Not a boy.”
Tori knew she should wiggle her wrist free. She should walk out that door and never come back. But she was struck by two unavoidable truths: she didn’t want to be free and she didn’t want to walk away. The realization slackened Tori’s resistance, slumping her closer and grazing her breasts against his solid chest.
At the tender contact, he lowered her hand behind her back and grabbed the other wrist so both were trapped in his iron grip. With his other hand, Rafael cradled the back of her neck.
“You want to know what mybiggestproblem is?” he growled.
“I can feel exactly how big your problem is.” She couldn’t help bating him with her sass. His erection felt like a rod against her belly, the hunger of his grasp awakening her body to its own needs.
His chuckle was equal parts malice and amusement. “My biggest problem,” he paused and stared at her parted lips, “is that I want to shut you up by putting my cock in your mouth.”
Holy shit, did he just—
“You do realize you said that out loud.”
“I’m used to getting what I want. Isn’t that what you accused me of? That cannot happen unless I ask for it.”
“This is youasking?” she screeched with a defiant shake of her shoulders—a shake not to dislodge his grip but to enhance the feeling of being pressed and shackled and owned.
“Would you prefer I didn’t?” He loosened his hold though didn’t let her go completely. His manhood pressed relentlessly, making her throb with anticipation. The air turned brittle, every second exposing the precipice of danger and drawing her closer to the edge.
“Whatwillyou let me do to you?” he rasped, moving his palm to the front of her throat so her pulse hammered against large, confident fingers.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. Tori’s voice was ground in glass and mired in desperation. She realized her body ached for his weight. He would do that so well, wouldn’t he? Look at her harshly and pin her under those muscular arms.
Abruptly,tragically, he released her instead. Rafael stepped back and squared his shoulders. “Class is about to begin. I’ll see you in the kitchen. It’s about time you learned to make croissants.”
He stood in front of the class with hands behind his back and jaw so clenched he might crack a molar. Rafael had introduced their guest teacher, a famous pastry chef from one of Paris’s most renowned bakeries. But the details were a blur to Tori.
Everything remained muddled except what happened in his office. Nothing could push past the remnants of that thrill: his hand around her throat and his hardness demanding her pliancy. Did she really fail to tell him to stop?She saidI don’t knowwhen what she wanted to say wasmore.
The thought of her begging should have flooded her with shame. And it did. But it wasn’t the kind of shame that made her feel small. It was the kind that made her feelseen. Wanted. Conquered.
