Page 4 of Whisking It All

“You turn,” he said, scooping up pieces of mango that had fallen into his cardboard tray and popping them in his mouth.

She watched the tip of his finger disappear between his lips and imagined all the other things she wanted to watch his lips do.

“We served a summer berry pavlova at my last gig. Every once in a while, someone would place an order with the note that they had an egg allergy.”

He threw his head back and laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the warm sound washed over her.

They swapped kitchen war stories, tales of executive chefs who ran their kitchens like war zones and prep cooks who didn’t know a chiffonade from a julienne. They bonded over their shared opinion that it was time for bacon to go back to the breakfast menu and leave desserts alone, and commiserated over the need to write menus that pleased the general public rather than pushing the boundaries of their creativity. By the time they’d finished eating, there was no denying how much she wanted him.

She took his hand and led him back to her hotel, straight through the lobby without a word. She felt his eyes on her as they waited for the elevator, his hand firm in hers, his thumb sliding up and down along the sensitive skin at the base of her wrist. They rode the elevator in silence, the blood rushing in her ears, every one of her nerve endings prickling with awareness of his every breath.

Tessa had never done anything like this—picked up a random guy and taken him home with her. While she was no stranger to short-term flings, she’d never had a one-night stand. She’d never wanted to. But there was something about Jamie that felt like she’d known him her whole life, like she could trust him to break her, but only in the ways she wanted him to. And she wanted him to. She’d seen that wicked glint in his eyes, the confidence with which he moved. She wanted it all.

He pulled out his wallet, removing his ID and holding it out for her.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked, not even looking at the plastic rectangle in his hand.

“Take a picture and send it to a friend. So they know who you’re with.” At her blank stare, he continued. “So you know you’re safe with me.”

She batted away his license and took his empty hand in hers again. “I don’t need a picture of your driver’s license to feel safe with you.” Besides, she had no one to send such a picture to anyway…

He frowned, a tinge of pink appearing on the tops of his ears. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I thought that was what people did when they did this kind of thing.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest and she brushed a loose wave of his dark hair away from his eyes. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” she teased.

“Me either,” he said, capturing her hand in his and guiding it to rest against his chest.

The elevator doors opened, and he waited for her to move first, to grip his hand tighter and lead him down the hall to her hotel room. At the door, she dropped his hand to dig through her bag for her key card. He moved behind her, his hands resting on her hips, sliding up and down, the thin fabric of her top catching on his rough palms and moving with him. He pressed his nose into her hair and breathed in long and slow, his breath on her neck sending tingles over her scalp.

“Tessa…” he murmured, leaving the question unspoken, but she could feel it in the tension of his muscles, the way he held himself back.

Please don’t ask questions, she thought. Please just let this be simple.

Finally, she found the key card, swiping it through the lock. The light flashed red and she tried again, her hands beginning to shake as desire pulsed through her veins. Red again. She grunted in frustration. Jamie slid his hand over hers, guiding the key card into the lock and withdrawing it slowly. The light flashed green and she pushed the handle, turning in his arms and gripping his shirt, pulling him in after her.

Her lips were on his before the door slammed shut behind them. He tasted like Portuguese wine and mango salsa and she pulled him closer. He groaned, digging a hand into her hair and angling her head where he wanted it as he deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth. She opened for him as her fingers found the edge of his shirt and pulled it from his pants, her hands sliding beneath the button down to meet the skin of his lower back. He was hot to the touch, and she scraped her nails lightly along his back. A low, guttural sound rose in his throat as his free hand slid down her hips and grabbed a handful of her ass, fingers kneading her full curves.

“Off,” she demanded against his lips, pulling at his shirt.

He moved away from her just enough to reach behind himself and pull the shirt over his head, tossing it aside, his eyes never leaving hers. All the breath left her body as she took him in. Jamie had the kind of defined abs and pecs that came from years of hard work, not hours in a gym, the sculpted contours of his biceps, the line of dark hair running from his belly button into his pants. The sprinkle of silver in his hair was mirrored by the dusting of hair on his chest, and she had the most intense urge to slide her fingers through it. His eyes hooded as he watched her, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice rough and ragged.

She pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside, leaving her in leggings and a hot pink, cotton bra. These were her traveling clothes, not what she would have usually worn for a date, though she was grateful she’d shaved her legs that morning at least. He didn’t seem to mind her comfortable clothes, though. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her hips flush against his so she could feel the steel bar between his legs already standing at attention.

His stubbled chin and lips dragged over her cheek, down her jaw and along her throat, his tongue darting out to lick at her pulse point. He kissed her like he couldn’t get enough, like she was something special, like he might go out of his mind if he didn’t have his mouth on her. She knew it was all just part of the fantasy of a one-night stand, that it didn’t mean anything, but still… It was nice to feel wanted.

He gripped her ass again while his other hand unhooked her bra. He ripped the fabric away and bent to take one tightly furled nipple between his teeth with a gentle tug, the sharp bite sending sparks along her skin.

“That feels so good,” she moaned.

He grinned against her chest as he moved to her other nipple, swirling his tongue over the turgid peak and then blowing on the wet skin, her nipple puckering further with the sudden chill until it was so stiff it stung with need.

“It will feel even better when I get my mouth on your pussy,” he said.

She gasped at the dirty words, wetness rushing between her legs at the filthy promise.

“Tell me what you want, Tessa,” he said, his kisses trailing down her torso, over the curve of her belly.

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