Seared (Cooking up a Celebrity Book 2)

by Hadley Harlin

  “Mmm,” he moaned, as if he were the one receiving. I threaded my fingers through his thick hair, desperate for something to hold on to. I felt like I was drowning, clawing desperately for a life ring to hold on to as I began to sink under wave after wave of pleasure. Heat scorched my belly and rocketed down my legs.

  “Point your toes,” he commanded. “Stretch your legs as you come.”

  The world was blurry. It was hard to see anything, and this must be exactly what drowning felt like. Where was my oxygen?

  Then Liam breathed into me, and I gasped again as the ball of fire exploded.

  I screamed as everything shattered inside of me. “Liam!” I moaned as everything spiraled out of control, my eyes rolling back, my legs jerking with the intensity of my pleasure.

  He quickly released my nipple with his hand and blew cool air across it as I reached the top of my orgasm. Fuck, he was good.

  Liam stood over me, his cock throbbing with want. But he was pulling up his boxer briefs from where I had stripped them to his knees.

  “You can fuck me,” I said quietly, hoping he’d want me as much as I still wanted him.

  “You’re nowhere near ready, sweetheart.” Liam pulled his shorts on next.

  I put my hands over his. “Stop. We don’t have to fuck. But I want to see you come all over me. I want to watch you fuck my breasts.” I squeezed my breasts together. “Right here.”

  That did it.

  Liam stopped and let the shorts drop. “Keep doing that.”

  He began stroking, long, full pulls up and over his velvety head. Moving it in and out of my breasts. He was big enough to hit my throat with his tip and still fist himself at the base.

  I forced down the urge to cross myself, Catholic style. He was about to masturbate all over me, and I got a front row seat to watch? Hell yes. This was the most sinful thing I’d ever done, and I never wanted it to end.

  His cock was so solid. I licked my lips, wondering what he tasted like. “You’re so fucking big,” I whispered, watching the effect my words had on him.

  “Are you scared?”

  I shook my head, eyes wide. “I want it. Deep inside me.”

  “Fuck,” he hissed out, stroking faster. “Touch yourself.” He pulled away and stepped back, so I could circle my clit.

  I rubbed up and down, spreading my wetness between my fingers and jerking at the sensation. I was still so sensitive from my first orgasm, but I could already feel the peaks of another beginning to climb. Liam’s eyes were intensely dark at the sight.

  I moaned. “My God, I want to fuck you so badly.”

  Liam stroked harder, gasping with me now.

  “I’m going to come. Put it here,” I begged, the beautiful heat sweeping through my body again.

  Liam gasped, jerking out his own release with shudders and moans.

  My body spasmed at the sight of thick, white ribbons surging over my nipples. Liam steadied himself with one arm on the bed, still towering over me. He was breathing hard through his nose, watching me in curiosity. Like one watches something new.

  Suddenly, the room came into focus. I was acutely aware of what I’d just done. It wasn’t fucking, but it felt even more intimate, if that was possible.

  Coming down from such an intense orgasm—and let’s be honest, my first one with another human being—was an altogether humbling experience.

  Liam got up and went to the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up like a newborn baby. The dark beast lurking inside of him had vanished, and I got the impression I was the only one in the world with unique access to this side of him. It made me hungry for more.

  “I think I’m ready for more prepping,” I murmured into the hardness of his chest.

  Liam swept me up and laid me back on my bed, pasta completely forgotten.

  Chapter Twelve

  Liam

  The Swiss Alps

  Luckily, getting to Italy would take a while, so I’d have time to pull myself together and refocus. Which was good, since all my thoughts and extra blood flow were going toward Clara at this point. I knew that was dangerous. We hadn’t even had sex, and already, I was obsessed.

  She was beautiful, dirty, and delicious. In short, she was the most lethal combo I could imagine and as addicting as any drug.

  Letting her occupy so much of my time was a recipe for me getting kicked off the show. I needed to buckle down for Italy. It was my weakest cuisine, which was why I wanted Clara’s help in the first place, but we never did get around to much studying. Now, she’d turned me into a two-headed monster, and we all knew which head was in control. After we got to Italy, I needed to stay focused on why I was here: my career, my mother, my pride.

  Three hundred and forty-seven days.

  Today, we were driving through the Alps on our way to Italy, and if I ever figured out what fucking idiot okayed that idea, I was going to tear him a new asshole. I mean, seriously, who drives through the Alps in winter? Didn’t some Roman lose his entire army in an avalanche here?

  I took a window seat near the back. When she got on the bus, Clara gave me that shy smile that made me want to rip off her pants and take away all that innocence. Instead, I avoided eye contact like a coward and slipped my headphones on. She slumped out of view a few seats in front of me, and a stab of guilt speared straight through me.

  Yesterday afternoon had been more than fun. It had bordered on mania, and I couldn’t let that happen. Everything I had, everything I had worked for, was going into winning this competition. Nothing could distract me. It wouldn’t be fair to myself or Clara.

  I had the best intentions going to her room to exchange help, but then it turned into something out of a teenager’s wet dream. Then, she came back, ready and wanting more…

  When I slipped a single finger inside of her, I realized what virgin really meant. She was so goddamn tight, and I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to take two or even three fingers, let alone all of me. Unfortunately, that tight feeling around my cock was pretty much all I could think about now.

  Not that I didn’t fight it. I came up with every reason as to why I was the wrong person to take this from her. It wasn’t that I slept around much. I didn’t date and I’d had no serious girlfriends since my last one a few years ago. She’d been a waitress across the street from Wagyu. Eventually, she washed her hands of me and my outrageous drinking and weed habit. I handled it like a champ and upped it to coke.

  The only person I hadn’t managed to let down yet was my sponsor, but give it time. I disappointed everyone eventually.

  Clara was better off alone than having anything to do with me. I’d take my few tips about pasta dough from her and be on my way, which meant no extra fraternizing.

  I had this insatiable desire to both protect her innocence as long as possible and rip it from her in one fanatical moment, and I knew that, like an addiction, I would eventually succumb if I lingered too long.

  The snow outside the bus interrupted my thoughts. It fell in sheets so thick I couldn’t see the side of the road anymore—or the thousand-foot drop looming just beyond. I hoped the driver had a clearer view. I looked at the producer, Charlotte. Technically, she was the one in charge, but she was obliviously leaning into Hawthorne in a pathetic attempt to arm fuck him. Hawthorne. What a joke. He wasn’t a real chef anymore, but ever since becoming a “celebrity” he had women fawning over him. Give me a break.

  Suddenly, the bus driver waved for Charlotte to come forward. All the chatter on the bus stopped immediately. I slipped my headphones around my neck and watched the conversation, trying to catch a few words. After a few tense moments, Charlotte picked up the microphone and cleared her throat.

  “Ahem, yes,” she coughed. “Hello, everyone. It looks like the storm we were tracking moved in quicker than anticipated.”

  Everyone started grumbling, so I yelled, “What the hell? Are we stranded here?”

  “Not here, per se.” Charlotte made a motion with her arms,
indicating the mountains. “There.”

  Clara’s voice bordered on the tearful. “You mean we have to sleep in the bus?”

  Charlotte twittered. “Oh no. Our driver is taking us to a motel right now. The storm should clear up in a few hours, and we’ll be on our way, none the wiser. Thank you for your understanding.”

  Charlotte turned off the microphone and resolutely ignored any attempts to engage her in conversation. Fucking perfect.

  A half-hour later, we limped into the hotel. Since it was goddamn winter, we had our pick of the rooms and everyone settled into their own.

  Clara suggested we grab drinks and dinner while we waited out the storm. Nobody was in the mood, including myself, but I hated the way the silence ate into her confidence.

  “Sure. Meet you downstairs at seven,” I said, walking away.

  I didn’t even make it out of the lobby before footsteps fell loudly and Jackson strode next to me. “What do you want?” I asked. Maybe if I let him say his piece, he’d leave me alone and I could get on with life.

  “You fucking her or what?”

  “Jackson, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Bro code. If you’re hitting that sweet ass, I’ll back off.”

  I didn’t answer and he smirked. “There’s no way you’re agreeing to hang out with everyone because you want to. You hate small talk and people and everything about this competition except the food.”

  “Maybe I’m starting to warm up to you assholes.”

  Jackson held up his hands. “Fine. Whatever you say. I don’t believe you, but I’ll play along.”

  “Nothing to play at,” I said gruffly, reaching my door and shutting it in his face.

  I got to the restaurant ten minutes to seven, hoping she’d be there, and of course, she was. She was the ultimate good girl. Couldn’t even be late to her own party that no one had wanted to attend, except her best friend, who was practically obligated.

  Why was I becoming so fascinated by her? She was a nobody. She’d never held a chef position, never created a new dish. It was possible she’d do great things, but probably not. Most chefs don’t.

  Something else drew me to her like a moth to a flame. The taste of her was as addicting as coke, and my addictive personality was already in too deep. But there was an additional element, too. She contained two opposing forces. Confident yet shy, inexperienced but not innocent. She was an enigma I loved to unwrap. And lick. And stroke. And savor.

  She had what I used to have. What I told myself I never wanted again, because it was too devastating when it was gone. As chefs, it would be nearly impossible to maintain that idealistic existence. Clara could talk a big game all she wanted about being an award-winning chef, but girls like her were all the same. They’d eventually want something more. The kids, the picket fence, the golden retriever named Lucky or Spot or Fluffy.

  I would never be in a position to give that to her. That sort of life wasn’t for me.

  In other words, she was better off without me.

  We didn’t fit together. We didn’t belong. I couldn’t give her what she wanted in the long run. We obviously wanted each other, but that would be stupid. I couldn’t keep my eyes on the prize if they were locked on the way Clara’s breasts filled out her shirt.

  I stood up, gathering my strength to head upstairs. This was a terrible idea. I should have stayed in my room and studied.

  I was seconds away from doing it, and then Clara came to stand next to me, innocuously brushing my cock as she did with her hand. Like it was an accident. If I hadn’t caught her gaze and that knowing little smile, I would have believed it was an accident, too.

  She headed toward the bathrooms. With one dark glance over her shoulder, she reduced my self-control to a fist of melted butter. I followed her, watching her run her fingertips along the wood planks of the hotel wall. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, as if taunting me to do something.

  I trailed behind, hating myself with every step. At the end of the hallway, she spun and tilted her head over her right shoulder, watching me curiously.

  “What about your party?” I asked.

  “It can wait. I have more important things to do right now.” When she said that, she looked directly at my crotch.

  “Germany was a mistake,” I said. “It won’t happen again.”

  Clara moved closer. “What if I want it to?”

  “I already told you I don’t fuck virgins.”

  “Shall I go ask Jackson to do the honors?”

  I held her at arm’s length, evaluating. Clara’s personality was lighthearted, but sometimes I couldn’t tell if she was joking, which reminded me I didn’t know her at all. Not really. We were in a fishbowl in this competition. What was she like in real life? Did she sleep with her socks on or push little old ladies out of the way to snatch the last box of Pinot Grigio? (True story. Saw that particular maneuver at my local bodega.)

  Clara smacked my chest playfully. “Just kidding! Lighten up, Long. We don’t have to fuck in a bathroom. I’ll settle for some hot kissing.”

  Before she could say another word, I grabbed her perfectly shaped ass, admiring the way both cheeks fit in my palms, and pulled her into me.

  She gasped, biting her lower lip in that intoxicating way. Her face blushed, a delicate little red, and it was adorable.

  “Is that what you had in mind?” I asked.

  She nodded, forgetting herself. Wanting me as much as I wanted her. I maneuvered her into a dark alcove of our restaurant, a hidden corner of our alpine gingerbread hotel. There, I swallowed her tiny frame with my body and tried not to ravage her innocence away completely.

  Running my hands through her hair, I gently kissed her lips, moving down to her breasts. They were full and fuckable, and it was hard to keep it gentle. She was so tight and pure. I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted to make her explode in pleasure and curl up into me. I wanted to worship her. I wanted her to never forget me.

  Virginal Clara pulled open the bathroom door and locked it from the inside.

  Her flimsy fabric shirt was begging to be ripped open, but I delicately undid her buttons and pulled a breast from her bra. I began licking. Seeing the perfect dark buds tighten and harden under my touch was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

  I kissed her neck, moving down to her shoulder along her collarbone. Her moans were growing louder. My little virgin couldn’t contain herself. I pressed a hand over her mouth, muffling her while I moved her on top of the counter and began flicking her clit with my tongue.

  I slipped my finger inside, marveling again at her tightness. It was unreal.

  “Oh, wow,” she whispered. “Oh, that’s… mmm,” she let herself relax against me and the counter, trusting me to take full control of her pleasure.

  Bringing her face to mine, I kissed her passionately.

  I rubbed harder, gently inserting another finger in her sweet pussy, watching her head dip back in pleasure as she gyrated against my hand. Her body tightened, and I knew she was close already. We were going to have to work on that stamina.

  I slowed down, giving extra attention to her nipples. Then I slipped another finger inside of her, stretching her, getting her ready. For what, though? For me? I didn’t lie. Virgin fucking was not my thing. But she was so goddamn wet and hot.

  She moaned. I curled my fingers, looking for that hard little ridge to rub.

  “You’re beautiful,” I murmured, finding her G-spot.

  “Oh!” Clara arched her back.

  “That’s it, enjoy it,” I urged her, watching her face closely. She tried looking away, pulling back from the intensity of the connection, but I jerked her head back. “Look at me, Clara.”

  Riding my fingers, she moaned my name and let herself fall fully. I seared her that way into my memory. The way her hair whipped across her lips. The way her dark eyes snapped with fire. The way her pink lips made the same O-shape as a perfect ring mold.

  And then she came, shaking,
her walls tightening around my fingers. “My God, Liam. That was… I don’t know what to do now. Should I like—”

  I laughed. “Oh, we’re just getting started, sweetheart,” I promised.

  “Don’t lie to me, champ,” she responded, laughing in the most adorable way. She took my hand and gave herself to me completely, following me back to her room as I whispered dirty promises of what I was about to do to her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clara

  The Swiss Alps

  I couldn’t walk the three flights of stairs to my room. My legs were worthless from the orgasm in the bathroom. Liam carried me the last two flights, his muscles taut and beautiful. Everything felt like jelly, and seriously, this was what I’d been missing my whole life? Maybe I should’ve had a few bad rounds of sex with boys in high school so I wasn’t completely ruined for all men to come.

  Then the really bad part of me thought: fuck it. Ruin it all. Whatever the cost, it’s worth it. All I wanted was Liam. No one saw this other side. No one appreciated it. His genius, his intellect, his drive. Only I deserved it. And for my reward?

  Mmm, yes. That.

  The way he towered over me, staring with dark, wild eyes.

  The way he stripped off my clothes and kissed every inch like he was worshipping a goddess.

  The way he gently peeled back my panties and moaned at their wetness.

  The way he let me unzip his pants, watching as I released his rock-hard cock from his jeans and admired every inch of him, my breath catching at the sight.

  I loved the primal dominance he took over me. It felt different than the repulsive way Jackson claimed everything. There was something feral, but protective in his gaze.

  I took him in both hands, and he shivered at my touch. He massaged my head, looking for any way to gain control of the situation. So, of course, I had to make it hard. Bending down, I kissed the tip of his cock before slowly running my tongue down one side and up the other. I loved the way he pulsed at the slick feeling of my tongue on him.