Page 46 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

My legs threaten to give out, but he wraps a strong arm around my waist and drags me back up against him. Instinct tells me to move his arm, to get it away from where I absolutely don’t want it. But being held this way feels so good.

I reach back and grip his side, and he winces with a grunt.

The post-orgasmic haze starts to clear, and I twist my head to look back at whatever caused his response. A massive bruise on his side has me sucking in a breath. “Oh, my God, are you okay? What happened?”

His eyes darken, and he drops his head and presses a kiss to my neck, which I instinctively tilt to the side to give him greater access. “Nothing. Don't worry about me. Are you okay?”

Almost involuntarily, my pussy clenches around his dick still buried inside me.

He offers me a groan in response. “Is that a yes?”

“Most definitely.”

For now.

We both know this moment won't last. He's going to need to let go of me, pull his cock from inside me, and walk away, leaving a hell of a lot of things unsaid and making the situation between us as neighbors and rivals even more complicated.

Because we aren’t going to talk about it. We aren’t going to acknowledge what we just did.

Shit. We may have really fucked this up.

Maybe it would have been better if we continued to dance around each other and pretend there was no attraction there. Better if we had concentrated on what we hated about each other rather than giving in to our base needs.

It would have been better…because the awkward silence between us now, only broken by our heavy breathing and the music playing in the background, starts to weigh down on the amazing feeling that just enveloped me.

Anything good never remains. It’s the way of the world I learned at a very young age.

The moment was too good to last.

12

JAMESON

“Jamo, I am seriously impressed.”

I glanced back at Bash, where he stands just inside the door of FURY, to try to discern whether I should take his comment as a compliment or insult. He scans around the restaurant in awe, Greer by his side, looking equally impressed.

“Thanks…I think.”

Flynn and Rachel wander around behind the bar, whispering to each other. She giggles and says something to him that makes him freeze on the spot. Rach tosses him a look and grins, and he narrows his eyes on her.

Ick.

I know that look she gave him, and I don't even want to think about my sister giving that look to a guy, even if he is the love of her life.

Bash takes another step inside, and his eyes connect with mine. “Mom would be incredibly impressed and so happy for you.”

He might as well drive a knife straight into my heart with that comment. Though, I know it wasn't his intention. It just makes me miss her more than I already do and wish she were here with us to have this family dinner.

I was always the closest to her, the one constantly underfoot in the kitchen, helping mix and stir, measure and bake. As a child, the kitchen was my safe place. Freedom from Dad's anger and violence and the constant wondering what any of us might do that could set him off when he actually was home.

That’s what I had hoped to build here. My own place, where I can find solace and freedom to do whatever my heart desires without fear of repercussions, but instead, everything I’ve done since coming here has had a ripple effect.

And doing what my body desires has left me out of sorts.

Instead of relieving the tension simmering between us, what we did in Isabella’s kitchen has only wound me even tighter, made me more aware of her and that she’s just right next door. Or at least, she should be.

In the almost week since I left her there with the evidence of what we had done still inside her, I haven't seen her, heard anything, or even smelled anything coming from her place.

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