Page 42 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

I issue a low, deep chuckle and lean in to kiss her slowly. “I don’t give a fuck what someone who taught me years ago thinks.”

“You don’t care what anyone thinks.”

For some reason, her words bother me more than they should, tightening my skin and making my stomach squeeze.

It’s definitely what I want the world to think—that I do whatever I feel like and don’t care about judgment from anyone. But the lie coming from her, knowing that she believes it, twists something deep in my gut. Especially knowing what I’ve been doing secretly and the likely reason why.

“That is absolutely not true, Izzy. In fact, I probably care what people think too much.”

Her green eyes analyze me before she brushes her fingertips across my temple. “There's a lot more to you than meets the eye, isn't there, Jameson Fury?”

The fact that I'm letting her see that part of me, even if it's only a tiny glimmer, feels both freeing and terrifying at the same moment. This can’t be anything more than a release of the tension between us. I can’t let myself believe it ever can be, and opening up in any way will only confuse things more.

I push my hard cock against her and attempt to redirect the conversation away from things I have absolutely no desire to tell her. She rolls her hips into mine, almost like they're seeking the very thing I’m looking to give her.

And I’m more than willing to oblige.

It will be good for us—to get rid of the pent-up energy simmering since we first met. It will make doing what I have to do to ensure success later so much easier once she’s out of my system.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

I reach down and grab her ass to lift her and set her on the counter. If she wants to stop this, if either of us wants to apply the brakes to this runaway train, now would be the time. This should be when we come to our senses and realize what a horrible idea it is. But the look in her eyes and the way her hands roam over my exposed chest and biceps tell me she is just as lost in the moment as I am—what's good or right or smart for either of us be damned.

The tangled complications this could create get pushed to the back of my mind as I reach for the waistband of her yoga pants and slip my hands along her smooth, soft, pale skin.

She jerks slightly and shifts her hips up, giving me even better access, and I drop my head and capture her mouth with mine, kissing her with clear intent, giving her one last chance to tell me to fuck off. But despite all the bickering and the battles we've had, it seems it's been building to something wholly unexpected between us.

Well…maybe not wholly unexpected.

Grant hinted it would be coming and could potentially be a problem before I even acknowledged it. Bash, too. Yet even knowing it's a huge problem, that it creates a massive conflict—both personally and professionally—I don't stop it, either.

I tug the waistband of her pants, and she lifts her hips fully to allow me to drag them and her underwear down her legs. She kicks off her shoes, and I take a step back, pulling her clothes from her feet and letting them fall to the tile floor.

Her pink pussy glistens with arousal under the bright lights in the kitchen, and I’ve never felt so starved in my entire life. My cock strains against the zipper of my jeans.

“Fuck, Izzy.”

I slowly run my hands up her inner thighs, and she shudders under me, reaching around my neck to drag me to her for another mind-bending kiss. Every swipe of her tongue only winds me tighter. Gives me more resolve.

My hands find the hem of the tank-top barely containing her breasts, but she pushes them away and reaches for my waistband.

She wants to do this with her shirt on? Okay.

This woman has absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about, but as much as I want to suck and lick and touch her breasts, crave to see all of her, I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy in this moment.

Izzy manages to undo the button on my jeans and lower the zipper, finally giving my cock room to breathe. I groan into her mouth and graze my hands up to find her center. Her hips buck against my palm, and I brush my thumb up over her clit, swallowing her resulting moan. Her rolling hips seek more contact, but I have something else in mind.

I drop onto my knees on the hard tile floor, and before she can utter a word, I lower my head and drag my tongue between her legs and to the apex of her thighs.

Sweet fuck!

“Oh, God…” Izzy drops her head back and closes her eyes.

Every lap of my tongue makes her twitch and my cock ache. But as badly as I want to get her ready and be buried inside her, playing games with Izzy is far too much fun.

I want her to suffer the same way I did, staring down at the menu while the cameras were focused on me. I want her writhing and desperate. Begging. I want her to know I’m the one in control even though she somehow managed to pull off a major victory.

And the perfect plan forms in my mind almost instantly.

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