Seared (Cooking up a Celebrity Book 2)

by Hadley Harlin

  Clara stared at me, wide-eyed and gorgeous. Suddenly, we were pressed against each other again, without knowing who moved first. She wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face into my chest, her breath warm and inviting.

  The urgency with which she met my kisses with told me everything. I had been a fool. I’d let my past get in the way of my future. She was more than my wildest, fuzzy hopes let me dream.

  She pulled back, staring with her chocolate eyes. “Is that why you said all those things?”

  I put my hands on either side of her face. “I will swear only one thing more. I love you. I love your innocence and vulnerability. Your wit and charm. Your cutthroat ability to take down anyone in your path. I love a bunch of other shit about you too, but I can barely breathe in your presence and talking takes breath.”

  Fisting her luminous dark hair that so mesmerized me, I moved down her neck, nipping and kissing. Her hair was wild and gorgeous, exactly how I remembered it.

  This feeling of fullness, this was what I’d been searching for when I’d applied to the show in the first place. Somewhere to belong. Instead, I found someone to belong to. Someone who didn’t make me forget the highs of addiction—that would be impossible—but someone who made me not want them as much. She dulled the ache, replacing the dark abyss of need with a rich river of desire.

  Two days.

  I worked a hand up her skirt, barely letting an inch of space go between us. Pulling aside her black panties, I slowly circled her clit.

  Clara was so coiled up from the competition and our emotional rollercoaster, she practically exploded the moment I inserted a finger. I put my thumb in her mouth and watched her eyes as she sucked it wet.

  “What if someone comes out for a smoke break?” she asked huskily, a paragon of restraint.

  “We’re not having sex. I’m just fingering you. They’ll barely notice. Are you telling me you want me to stop?” I stepped back and grinned, holding up my glistening fingers. “Because your pussy is telling me another story.”

  Clara leapt at me like a hungry animal. Her kisses fed my fire, and I never wanted it to stop burning. She sucked my tongue, moaning against my mouth as I went for broke and rubbed her clit with my thumb.

  She came, her waves crashing around my fingers with my name on her sweet lips. Then her eyes flew open. “Fuck! I’m going to be late!”

  She frantically began waving her hand at her pussy to fan away the wetness. “I was supposed to go back on camera like five minutes ago!”

  I grinned. “Whoops. Here, let me help.” I yanked off her panties and pooled them on the floor. “Just go commando. It will hurt me more than it does you. I’ll have to sit there and watch you win while imagining all of this.” I flipped up the hem of her skirt and she batted my hands away. God, she was so innocent.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I told her. “Your pussy is the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen or eaten in my life. Although your Kaiseki is a close second. It really was masterful.”

  Clara flamed redder, trying to tame her flyaways in the mirror. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, kissed her once more, and left her to primp. It was better we came back to the set separately. It wasn’t like there were any rules against contestants dating, but I didn’t want to take the light from her. She deserved to beat us all.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Clara

  Tokyo, Japan

  I was a mess. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and any other -lys I could possibly think of right now.

  My hair was tangled in the back from where Liam had grabbed a hold, and I was acutely aware of my lack of panties under my dress. I bet the camera lights would sear right through my flimsy skirt, and my lady bits would be on display for the entire world to see. I better tell someone on the crew to black it out in post-production. That was going to be an awkward conversation.

  How did I lose my panties in fifteen minutes?

  Excuse me, Mr. Nosy. A rabid bird ripped them off and ate them.

  Birds don’t get rabies? Okay, well, it was clearly sick. Like you. Why are you so obsessed with my panties?

  I smacked a hand to my head. I was a terrible liar.

  The judges gave me a distinctly unpleasant look at my tardiness but signaled for the cameras to roll, as if they had no respect for the tsunami of emotions flooding through me.

  “As you all know, the winner will receive a quarter of a million dollars, a feature article in the Food & Dine magazine, a car, and most importantly, international recognition. Will the remaining contestants please cast their final votes? Pierce, I believe you’re next.”

  The judge held out her hand for Pierce to step forward.

  Pierce gave Liam a sidelong glance before casting his vote. “I vote for Clara. Her uni pasta and egg custard were phenomenal.”

  Next, Liam officially voted for me.

  It was down to Ben. He had gone out first in the competition and was now casting the deciding tie-breaker vote. He cleared his throat, plainly uneasy about his role.

  The entire room went silent. I could feel my heart beating in my fingertips. This was everything, right here. Ben cleared his throat a second time, and I felt the singular urge to drown him in some water. Spit it out!

  “There was only one meal that I would eat over and over again and still find new things to marvel at. It was sophisticated and interesting, just like its creator. My vote goes to Clara.”

  I slapped my hands to my cheeks and squealed. The crowd rose to their feet and clapped enthusiastically. I was vaguely aware of Emma hugging me tightly and whispering congratulations as everything crescendoed around me.

  Then, everyone else walked to hug me and shake my hands, except for Liam. He simply smiled from across the room and nodded once. That was all it took to make my entire body buzz and glow from the inside out.

  The Japanese judges each bowed and smiled at me. Somebody popped open a bottle of champagne and the cameras panned in to get shots of the bubbly in my hand.

  That’s when my mom came into view. “Mia formagginna!” she cried, rushing me with a champagne flute held aloft. “Your father would be so proud. So, so proud.” There was hugging and crying and laughing, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if confetti cannons exploded, as everyone surrounded me with their congratulations.

  Except Emma was in the corner, her shoulders drooped. I extracted myself from my mother’s surprisingly strong embrace and went to her.

  “D is for delightful, devoted, delectably delicious. That’s an extra double-d one for you. Just like your boobs. Super jealous of those, by the way.”

  Emma squeaked out a laugh and wiped away the tiniest tear. “You don’t have to butter me up. I’m happy for you. I swear.”

  I took her hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Emma. I really didn’t expect to make it out of Paris. I absolutely never expected to beat you. You’re amazing, and I’d be honored to do anything with you in the future. Hey, maybe we can share the feature!”

  Emma punched my shoulder softly. “Oh, stop it, silly. You deserve this. Liam was right. You’ve grown so much, and I stagnated. That’s all. I’ll be fine. Coming in second is going to do wonders for my career, too. I promise, I still love you.”

  I gave her a kiss on the check and squeezed until my arms were sore. “I was thinking. What if we take the prize money and open up our own food truck together? We could roll through whatever city we wanted, cook whatever we wanted, and be our own boss.”

  “That’s all you, sister. I’ll support you, but my dream is fine dining.” Emma wiped away another tear, and I hugged her again as fiercely as my arms could manage. “Now, stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”

  Emma looked over my shoulder. “Hey, lover boy is here. Do you want me to beat him up for you still? I could probably poison him pretty easily, but that speech seemed inspired. I think he’s in love with you.”

  Liam gave me a little nod that made my heart plummet and my stomach clench. I subconsciously smoot
hed back my hair. “I’ll handle this.”

  “Okay, just don’t murder him in front of witnesses,” Emma advised.

  She didn’t need to worry. I had something else in mind entirely.

  After a quick excuse to my mother, I grabbed Liam’s hand and led him to a dark corner closet.

  “Clara, we can wait until tonight. You should go celebrate,” he protested as I shimmied down his jeans and gazed at his bulging boxers.

  “This is how I want to celebrate,” I promised.

  I yanked his boxers down next, reveling in his perfection. I’d forgotten how big he was. It seemed impossible. With a shaking hand, I took ahold of him and ran my fingers up and down his length. Already, I could feel my pussy heating up and tingling in anticipation. I looked up into Liam’s eyes to find him watching me with that intense stare. Screw foreplay. I needed him now.

  I knocked over two bottles of bleach and a mop as I lunged at him, pressing my mouth to his before dropping my head to his cock. In the same rush of hot need, Liam pulled up my dress and met my kisses. It took two point three seconds longer than I wanted before he had a condom on and thrust inside me, my dress still on and his pants around his ankles. There was no way in hell I could wait any longer for him.

  The exquisite feeling of being completely filled up by him made me moan loudly, and Liam had to clap a hand over my mouth. I bit his fingers playfully, happy to find they still smelled of me.

  “God damn,” he growled, pumping as I gripped his shoulders like he was some kind of amusement park ride. “How are you still so fucking tight?”

  I loved hearing how much he adored me. Riding him harder, my breasts bounced as we moved together in a perfect pattern.

  “I’ve missed you,” I moaned, rocking my hips in rhythm with his thrusts. So damn much.

  Seizing my wrists, he held me against a metal shelf, exploring my body and taking me in as if he needed to imprint everything. Like it wouldn’t last.

  “I’m yours,” I told him.

  He kissed me deeply. “Yes, you are.”

  I met him thrust for thrust, mounting closer to that perfect release until, already seeing stars, I exploded around his cock.

  “Give me everything, Clara,” he commanded, his eyes dark and lusting.

  I rode him harder as Liam joined me at the height of my orgasm, making it go on and on and on from the feel of his release. We crashed into each other, not daring to say a word and break the moment.

  But then he did.

  “I love you, Clara. I don’t want to be without you. I will follow you to the moon and back.” He pushed aside a dark piece of hair and kissed my nose, my chin, and finally my lips.

  “I love you, too,” I promised into his mouth.

  Liam’s smile, when it happened, lit up my world. Then it quickly changed into his mischievous grin no one saw except for me.

  “But I’m not riding on your death trap of a transportation choice.”

  Epilogue

  Clara

  Eight months later

  New York City, New York

  The makeup artist leaned in and attacked me with a pouf ball. I threw my forearm up to ward her off. “I said glowing, not powder puff!”

  “You’ll thank me later,” the girl with blue hair promised, renewing her attack. “You know, we had Hawthorne West in here before all of the craziness happened. I would have never believed he’d settle down. Not by the way he was acting.”

  “True love,” I shrugged.

  Another set of hands pulled me back into the chair and started picking at my hair. With a polite smile, I handed her the yellow bandana I picked up in New York after we’d gotten home.

  “Could you work this in?” I asked.

  The hairstylist’s eyebrows told me everything. She was not a fan, but I had to stay on brand now.

  Today was yet another talk show where I’d promote Cooking Around the World and try to look like I knew what I was talking about. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

  Liam was with me. After the finale in Japan, he admitted he relapsed after getting kicked off the show, sitting alone in an airport. His sponsor had been there and he was a sweet, old man. Instead of going home with me, Liam went home with his sponsor. He went to rehab. He went on the multi-month plan. The serious one. He finished and went to Michigan.

  He told his mother the truth; that he’d been working at a diner, and he wasn’t quitting the industry. She understood and was even thrilled to meet me. Apparently, it was the first time Liam had ever brought a girl home, so she might have just been in a perpetual state of shock.

  I went home and comforted my mother. While she had to work through her grief on her own, just knowing that I was successful in my chosen career went a long way to easing her mind. She even gave Liam her blessing.

  I remember quietly asking her about my father’s profondo dolore.

  “My beautiful daughter. Your father was happy with us,” Mom said, stroking my hair as we stirred Sunday sauce. The entire family had come over, including cousins neither of us knew we had. Everyone wanted to see the “movie star”—and they didn’t even know I’d won, yet. The house was a loud, clanking mess of talking, gesticulating Italians, arguing about how to stir a sauce and whether to put fresh basil in first or last. It was amazing.

  “I knew there was a reason he left and a reason he didn’t go back. I knew there was a girl, but I didn’t pry. I just made him happy. As happy as he made me. A childhood love, that was all it was. But our real love, it lives on in you. A real love, it’s all we ever wanted for you, too. Are you in real love?”

  And me? Was I?

  I counted the days to Liam every morning.

  Two hundred and fifty days.

  I counted the ways I loved him every evening, now that he was back with me.

  Liam bent down and gave me a kiss, careful not to smudge anything. “I like the sparkly gold eyeshadow. It makes you look even more like a pixie.”

  “What?” I laughed. “When did you think I was a pixie?”

  Liam kissed me again. “The first time I met you, I thought you had a Tinker Bell body.”

  “So you were looking! Everyone thought you were a grumpy, old douche who didn’t socialize.”

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  I pulled his face closer. “We don’t think that now.”

  “You mean you and Emma?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Have you heard from her in the last month?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I told her to go find herself like some Eat, Pray, Love shit and not to come back unless it was with the love of her life. Or the Dalai Lama. Instead, she went to Missouri.”

  The producer poked her head in. “You’re on in five minutes, sweetie.”

  When she was gone, I rolled my eyes at Liam. “I did just win a quarter of a million dollars on a trip around the world. I think I’ve graduated past ‘sweetie’.”

  Liam enveloped me in a hug. “It’s the height. On the upside, you’ll always get carded. I hear women like that when they get in their thirties. It’s good for their self-esteem.”

  “Thanks. So what should we eat after this? I was thinking ramen. Or fried chicken. But you know, I’ll always go for some pasta.”

  “Do you ever think about anything other than food?” Liam asked.

  I pretended to think about it for a moment. “Not really. Why? Do you?”

  Liam pulled me out of the chair, pressing his body into mine. His cock was already hard as he bent his head to kiss the space behind my ear. “Usually only one other thing.”

  “Tell me more,” I whispered.

  “I think about the moment you get done with this show. How I’m going to unzip that way too tight dress.”

  “Mm hmm. Go on.”

  “Then, I’ll lick this nipple first and blow on it, then this one.” Liam gently ran a finger over my dress, making me shiver.

  “That sounds, you know, okay.”

  Liam grinned. “We’
re just getting started. Next, I’ll lick your thighs, working my way down to that spot behind your knee, before going upward to your beautiful pussy.”

  By this point, his hand was practically up my dress, and I was panting.

  “Uh-hmmm.” We broke apart at the producer’s not-very-discreet throat clearing. “It’s time, Clara.”

  I turned to Liam, a nervous smile flitting across my face. It mirrored Liam’s own.

  “You look nervous. Afraid I’m going to fuck this up?” I teased.

  Liam gave me one last kiss. “You’ll be fine, but don’t say ‘fuck’ on live TV.”

  I took in a few deep breathes. Being on live television felt so different. Do not curse, Clara. Do. Not. Say. Fuck. On. Live. Television.

  “Okay, well, wish me luck.”

  Liam pushed me toward the stage. “Nah. You don’t need luck. You just need to be yourself. Was that sappy? God, woman. You’re making me sappy.”

  I ran my now-signature, bright red nails down his shirt, feeling his abs beneath my fingers. “I like sappy. See you on the other side.”

  I walked into the brilliantly lit room, waving to the in-studio audience like I wasn’t sweating Niagara Falls under the powder puff caked on my face. Thank God, I didn’t have a dick. The wood Liam was sporting would take a while to go down.

  The host sat me down and ran through the usual list of questions. “What’s it like being the youngest contestant and beating seasoned—forgive the pun—chefs?”

  “Exhilarating! I’d spank their butts all over again,” I replied.

  The audience laughed. But that might have been because of the laugh track sign a producer was holding up over her head.

  “Hardest challenge?”

  “Catching my own fish and then cooking it over hot coals out in the windy marshes of Vietnam.”