Seared (Cooking up a Celebrity Book 2)

by Hadley Harlin

  Without another word, she took me by the hand and led me out of the reception. I was a foot taller and twice as heavy, but it was clear, I was no longer in control. She led me farther under the sprawling trees, away from the glow of the twinkle lights and the flicker of candles, into the darkness. All sorts of warning sirens lit up in the back of my mind, urging me to stop, but the seductive curve of her breasts and softness of her lips effectively silenced them.

  She found a quiet spot and brought my hands to her chest.

  “Flip my dress down,” she said softly.

  I did, feeling the soft material of her strapless dress fold under my fingers. I ran my palms over bared breasts, already feeling how hard her nipples were compared to the softness of her exposed skin. She molded her body to mine, moving us in rhythm to the softening music of the wedding.

  “Liam, I’ve missed you.”

  I didn’t trust myself to respond, so I dipped my lips to hers, leaving them red and raw. I gave myself over to everything I’d come to love about her, including her scent and the way she did a little wiggle whenever I brushed her pussy. Like she could barely contain herself.

  Clara moaned appreciatively as she unzipped my pants and deftly maneuvered her hands inside my boxers. She ran her fingers up and down its length, whispering into my mouth how much she missed fucking me.

  She didn’t know the half of it.

  Her back was against the stone of the hotel, cool against the back of my hands as I leaned over her, searching hungrily. They trailed down her dress to her ass.

  Clara’s mouth and her heat engulfed me like water droplets on a raging griddle. Our noses touched as I fingered her wetness. She kept begging me to do it, but the sensation of the tip of my cock against her smooth slit was exhilarating. She reached down and pumped. I let a moan escape from my mouth that she smothered with kisses.

  “Do you have a condom?”

  I pulled one from my back pocket—force of teenage boy habit. She ripped it open and quickly slid it over me, longing and desire running through every electric touch.

  “Will you fuck me now?” she teased, nipping at the sensitive spots on my neck.

  I took her wrists and held them against the bricks. “Only if you say ‘pretty please’ like a good little girl.”

  She bit her lip and looked up at me from hooded eyelids. “Pretty please, get the fuck inside of me right now.”

  My dirty little not-a-virgin and her dirty little Staten Island mouth. I angled up and slid inside of her slowly. She was so fucking tight still, and I was afraid of hurting her. Clara, however, was not.

  “I said please and I meant it,” she said as she wiggled her wrists free and grabbed my ass, urging me deeper. “Oh, yes. Don’t stop that. Don’t stop, Liam.”

  “You love when I fuck you?” I pumped harder, supporting her body with one arm. For leverage, she wrapped her legs around my waist and put her back against the stone wall.

  “Yes, Liam,” she breathed into my ear.

  “Say it, sweetheart,” I ordered.

  At that, she scoured her nails into me, as if reminding me two could play that game. “I love your cock deep inside of me. Fuck me harder—if you can,” she dared.

  I grinned, moving her tiny waist up and down as I thrust harder.

  “Mm, that feels fucking amazing.”

  We fucked in rhythm. With one arm looped around her, I adjusted the angle and hit something deep inside of her. It felt hard and profound. I rocked into her faster, knowing this was wrecking her like it was wrecking me.

  She dipped her head back. “Oh, don’t stop!” We rode a tiny wave out together, holding onto each other as another one rushed upon us. I could feel her body tremble and her walls clenching, taking me over the edge.

  “Yes, come for me,” I panted, watching the ecstasy in her eyes as she climaxed. “Come all over my cock.”

  Fireworks burst into the sky behind us. For a second, I thought I was imagining things, but then realized they were to serenade the new couple. They burst in reds and blues, illuminating Clara’s beautiful face. Her eyes were gorgeous and her hair wild. Most of it had come undone and now fell across her bare collarbone.

  I let myself explode, coming into her with powerful shudders while she moaned my name. I couldn’t tear my gaze from her, knowing this was the last time I’d see her like this. Letting the bitter-beautiful memories jolt through me. All my senses not related to Clara were gone. I couldn’t hear or feel anything but her.

  Fucking Clara was better than anything I’d done before. My body hummed in the aftermath, and a small gesture, something as slight as a caress of her thumb on my lip, made my arms want to sweep her up and hold her forever.

  I exhaled. Not even a life-changing orgasm could release all the tension. Watching her lose herself in pleasure was the sexiest thing I could imagine. I loved making her feel that way. Picturing another man getting to see that wild look or feel this body made me physically ill.

  Which made me, officially, the worst man I knew. No matter how many times she promised “just for tonight” we both knew that wasn’t the type of girl she was, and commitment wasn’t the type of guy I was. We were destined for a great fall.

  I slowly buttoned her back up and smoothed her dress straight, not daring to say a word, the invisible wall already re-erecting between us.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Clara

  Istanbul, Turkey

  This morning, I didn’t need an alarm clock to wake me up. Emma’s not-so-silent sobbing did the trick, bright and early. With everything that had happened between Liam and me, Emma had sort of been on her own. I had no idea what was going on with my own best friend.

  “Emma? Is that you?” I asked through the bleary hangover engulfing me.

  She rolled over, her eyes rimmed red and her entire face puffier than a soufflé.

  “My God, Emma, what’s wrong?”

  She burst into tears. “I went to Hawthorne!”

  “Oh shit.” I quickly shut her door, hugged her fiercely, and guided her toward the bed. “What happened?”

  Emma cried louder. “That’s the thing, he rejected me! Not even a quickie for old times’ sake.”

  I wrapped my arms around Emma, letting her snot into my shirt. “What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t!” she said. “I couldn’t take it anymore. This competition’s driving me crazy. Seeing him every day. Being alone. Even you abandoned me!”

  I made comforting hushing noises while I stroked her hair, trying to be a big spoon in a giant spoon world. “You’re doing so well in the competition. You haven’t been on the bottom once! Until Italy, I was always on the bottom. I doubt I’ll make it past India, to be honest.”

  “Stop fishing for compliments. You’re coming into your own and everyone knows it. I’m a freaking mess.” She snorted up another giant wad of snot to prove her point.

  I used my sleeve to wipe away her tears. “Hey. None of that talk. You’re beautiful, brilliant, and ballsy. How’s that for the Bs?”

  Emma cried harder.

  “Okay, I’ll start with the As. We’ll go through the alphabet. Amazing, artsy, approachable. C… hmm… probably shouldn’t say THE C-word… How about cute, candid, curvaceous?”

  Finally, I got a laugh.

  I grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “I know that sucked, but you have to stay focused. Jackson is gone, and the competition is wide-open now. Let’s go grab breakfast. We can study more spices and dishes for the next round, my delightfully dangerous and dazzling demi-goddess. And I can apologize profusely for being so absent. I’ll even go through the alphabet about my faults. Let’s see. Appalling, abandoner, abominable.”

  “Oh, stop,” she said. “I just want to know what’s been going on. Don’t deny it, either.”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  “I better stay and pack. We’re leaving soon. But I want to hear about what you’ve been doing. What’s been going on with you and Liam?�
�

  Feeling extremely guilty, I spilled the spices on our relationship and his… eggplant.

  “Liam? Grouchy, quiet, rude, sexy as fuck, Liam?” She gasped. “It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed about!”

  I nodded. “It’s true. You’re looking at a newly minted woman. Like thirty times over.”

  “My God, Clara. It’s been two weeks. How much sex could you have possibly had? And why haven’t you been letting me live vicariously through you?”

  “I know. It’s a little absurd. But I can’t get enough.”

  Emma placed her hands on either side of my face and, despite my best efforts to turn away, stared deeply into my eyes. “This is more than a fling. This is what I looked like when I was with Hawthorne. You’re in love.”

  “I don’t think it’s reciprocated,” I said, finally voicing my doubts. “Ever since the Italy disaster, he’s been completely distant. Then, last night, he let me in a little before slamming the door again. Like he’s afraid that talking to me will ruin his game or something.”

  “You think he blames you?” Emma asked. She was always so adroit. I should have used that for one of my As.

  I shrugged. “If I could get up the courage, I’d ask.”

  “You should,” she said. “Honesty is the best policy.”

  “Are we in an after-school special?”

  Emma threw a pillow at me, which I impressively caught with my mouth. Emma wasn’t as impressed. “Seriously, be honest. Tell him how you feel. You won’t regret it.”

  “So you say,” I muttered.

  “So I know,” she amended.

  It was extremely early for a hungover person, but I couldn’t get back to sleep after our talk, so I dragged myself out of the hotel and over to a coffee shop and Internet café near the Blue Mosque. Everything inside smelled spicy and strong, including the Turkish coffee and apple tea. I ordered a tea and turned to find a seat. Instead, I came face-to-face with Liam.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He barely looked up, so I flopped into the vacant chair next to him.

  “What are you doing up so early?” I asked.

  Liam grunted something about studying. Images of Indian dishes were up on the computer when I peeked at the screen.

  “Learn anything good?”

  When I realized I was going to get next to nothing out of him, I changed tactics. I licked his neck.

  I.

  LICKED.

  HIS.

  NECK.

  Liam brushed me off.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, hurt suffusing my voice. I noticed he had dark circles under his eyes, and his thick hair stuck up in odd places. His face, too, had an ashy undertone to it. When was the last time he’d slept or had a proper meal? Had he eaten anything at the wedding? I remembered lots of raki, but not a lot of food. Was it possible that Liam slipped up and had a drink? There was no one around to hold him accountable but himself.

  Liam closed his notebook and turned to face me. “I need to study for India. Maybe you should consider it, too.”

  I sat up straight. “I want to! With you. We can go over a few recipes or some anatomy. Or you know. Both.”

  “Maybe that’s fine for you, but I can’t keep fucking around. This is my one chance to resurrect my career, and it’s become a distraction. You haven’t screwed yourself over yet, but I have, and if you don’t take full advantage of this opportunity, it’s only a matter of time before you do too. Jackson wasn’t wrong about that; this industry eats everyone.”

  I jerked back at his words, as if he’d physically slapped me. “A distraction? Is that what I am? Sorry. Didn’t realize I was such a burden.”

  Liam grabbed his computer and stood up sharply. “Yeah, well. There’s a lot you didn’t realize.”

  “Stop trying to pin your bad pasta on me and admit it. You’re scared!”

  “Sweetheart, you’re too innocent to fear.”

  I darted to my feet. “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you, too.”

  My brain short-circuited. I put my hands on his deliciously hard chest and shoved him backward.

  Liam staggered back a step, clearly caught off-guard, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at me with eyes sadder than he had any right to when he was the one breaking things off, yet again. When was I going to learn that Liam Long was bad fucking news?

  “Fine, Liam. Good fucking luck. You’re clearly going to need it.”

  Then I turned and ran before he could respond. Despite promising myself I wouldn’t, I cried the whole fucking way back to a darkened, empty business room, so I wouldn’t burden Emma with my problems. Promises clearly meant nothing.

  I called my mom, hoping for some motherly guidance. There was no way I could mention Liam or the sexy stuff, but that was fine. I pressed her name and mopped up the tears with the back of my wrist.

  At the sound of my mom’s voice and the clinking of Sunday sauce preparation in the background, I lost it. “Mammina,” I wailed. “I miss you! I’m in so over my head here. I’m thinking of dropping out.”

  “Clara,” my mom growled. “Quit that nonsense talk this instant.”

  Uh-oh. What happened to Mia formagginna? Whenever she used my real name, I was in trouble. Technically, she hated it. If someone were to ask her that, she’d deny, deny, deny, of course, but we all knew the truth. According to my aunt, my dad had insisted his only child be named for his own beloved mother, and Mom was too drugged up from my birth to notice at the time.

  “Yes, Mammina?”

  “You father would be so disappointed to hear you talking like this. Didn’t he always say he didn’t raise a stewed tomato?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No ‘but.’ Get some backbone!”

  I sat up and wiped my nose. “Are you serious? You’re the one who didn’t want me to go. You’re the one who kept saying I could come home whenever I wanted. You’re the—”

  Mom cut me off again. “Enough wallowing. You wanted this and now you’re going to see it through. Romeros don’t stop halfway. We finish what we start. Now, go make your father proud. Capiche?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Liam

  Kochi, India

  Cold turkey failed me. Clearly, my willpower was no match against my attraction to Clara. Her siren song was stronger even than alcohol.

  I had also tried talking to her, explaining why this affair was a terrible idea for both of us, but reason was no match, either. The moment I touched her, I became an idiot who forgot all his priorities. There was only one thing left to do: be so vicious, hurt her so badly that she wouldn’t come back for more. Nobody in their right mind would.

  Three hundred and fifty-eight days.

  It hurt to do such a thing, but this was for her own good. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. But the uncomfortable knot in my stomach told me that my sponsor would call bullshit on that statement. It was that, or let the best chance I’d ever get to revive my career slip through my fingers.

  It would be better to forget the way her eyes intensified at the beginning of each challenge or the way she stuck out her tongue as she concentrated. I would no longer watch her hips sway as she walked or even fucking look in her general direction.

  I would be stone.

  And I would keep telling myself this was for her benefit as much as mine. I was damaged goods, and sooner or later, if she didn’t get away from me, my mess would become her mess.

  The pilot dinged the seat belt sign off at altitude, and Charlotte immediately jumped up and made her way to our portion of the plane.

  “Hey, guys. Gather round.”

  Nobody moved.

  Charlotte laughed. “Okay, so I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on. You’ve probably noticed neither Chef Sato nor Chef West are with us.”

  I looked over the rows. I guess I hadn’t thought about it. If I had, I’d figured they were in business class. Apparently, my head was so far up my own ass that I hadn’t
noticed. It seemed most of us hadn’t, though.

  “For the remaining countries, India, Vietnam, and Japan, we will be enlisting the help of local, celebrity chefs. I know you were probably sad to see such illustrious names as Chef Sato and Hawthorne West go, but it is out of production’s hands. Don’t let this cloud your cooking. We’re over halfway!” Charlotte beamed at us, but her smile was faker than her mismatched hair extensions. “Let’s have everyone meet in the hotel lobby after we land. We’ll give you a chance to clean up, settle in, and then eat dinner together.”

  “One big happy fucking family,” I muttered under my breath.

  Charlotte got up and left us plebs to economy. The crew took out their iPhones and got a few candid videos of us sleeping and whispering quietly. Television gold.

  None of Charlotte’s fake ‘everything is fine’ act stopped the speculation. The remaining contestants gossiped nonstop about what had happened. Bethany thought she saw Sophia and Hawthorne kissing at the Spice Bazaar, but I didn’t care. I had just decided to give up my own drama. I didn’t need someone else’s.

  I slipped in my earbuds and faded out the background noise to Linkin Park. The worst part of all this was the fact that I’d begun to learn their tastes and desires. Now we’d have to cook all of this foreign food for judges we’d never met and whose tastes we didn’t know. Looks like they’d screwed us over by screwing each other.

  The restaurant in Kochi was long and narrow with a woven roof. It looked like an ancient rice boat for a reason. Because it was called The Rice Boat. I tried not to roll my eyes. Although, I had to admit the water views from the windows were pretty spectacular.

  A moment later, Clara walked into the restaurant in a tight black dress that barely covered her ass, showing off her muscular thighs. She kept her makeup simple, except her glazed, red, pouty lips, which stood out seductively against all of the black. I swear, she was doing this shit on purpose to punish me.