I twist back his way, and those alluring eyes are facing me again. I lick my lips and taste the sweetness of the sugary whipped cream.
“That’s so good,” I mention, swiping my finger across the edge of the mug with the cream on it.
“Homemade,” he informs me, taking a swipe himself. “Here,” he whispers as his finger inches toward me.
My mouth opens slightly. Is he expecting me to lick it off his finger? No, that would be terribly inappropriate. His eyes focus on my lips while his finger continues to inch closer to me. I close my eyes, waiting to feel the coldness of the white cream from the tip of his finger against the part of my lips.
Shivers run through my body when his finger lightly brushes across my neck. When I open my eyes, he’s sucking the cream he just swiped from my neck into his own mouth. My stomach flutters, and my heart races. His other hand still hasn’t left my hip as I’m fixated on his tongue swirling over his finger. When he pulls me against him, I swallow the dryness in my throat.
“Even sweeter,” he whispers.
I sway into him a little more.
“I would have much rather used my tongue, but I would’ve had to fire you first.”
He laughs, and I stare up at him like a damn idiot.
“Let’s go! Some of us have social lives outside of CHOPs!” Todd screams from the other room.
I quickly scramble out of Davis’s hold.
“Can’t forget the best part.”
Wasn’t that the whipped cream?
He pops a cherry into his mouth, and I watch it move from side to side as his tongue helps manipulate the small red circle. When he catches me staring, he smirks, assuming my thoughts. If he thinks I wish it weren’t a cherry his tongue was moving around on right now, he’d be right.
Finally, we escape the figuratively steamy and dangerous kitchen. This is the only time in my life when I’d be okay with losing a bet.
Davis ushers me to take the lead out to our panel of judges at the bar. This only makes me paranoid that he’s most likely checking out my huge ass. Guess when I debated between a thong and hip-huggers this morning, I made the wrong choice.
Should have wiggled my way into my Spanx.
Todd, Shawn, two waitresses, and a busboy are sitting around the bar, casually consuming their drink of choice. Todd brings his beer bottle up to his lips when I open the swinging bar top to venture behind the bar. His lips purse, and his eyes bore into mine. I wonder how much gossip is brewing among the staff about the boss and me. I guess I can convince myself it’s only Todd who senses the sexual tension between Davis and me, but I’d be kidding myself. I handed them the flint to start the wildfire by allowing myself to be alone in the kitchen with him.
“Help yourselves,” Davis says, placing the two mugs filled with hot chocolate on the lacquered wood top.
Todd steps up first, prodding others by hurriedly waving his hands in the air. His eagerness tonight is rare since he usually escorts me back to my apartment then sometimes comes in for a few drinks. Tonight, I notice he’s all dressed in nice jeans and a plaid button-down shirt.
Wait, is his hair damp? Did he take a shower? Is there a shower at CHOPs?
His hand grips the first mug and brings it to his lips. His head flips from side to side, giving me the impression that he thinks it’s okay. Then, he passes it down the line and tentatively sips from the other. His eyes widen, and he nods. Obviously, that’s the winner for him.
Damn it.
It’s Davis’s.
While the others take their respective sips, I direct my gaze to each reaction. I wouldn’t mind Davis cooking me a nice meal, but I’d still hate to lose. Other than when Todd whips up something for the two of us, my usual meals involve takeout and quick ones I pick up after long days. I practically drool over the things Todd cooks, so my mouth is salivating from the mere thought of what Davis could put together.
“Would you guys want to make it anonymous, or are you okay with straight-shooting?” Davis asks.
All their eyes turn in my direction. Great, they feel bad and don’t want to hurt me by saying I’ve lost.
“Whatever gets us out of here faster,” Todd says, drumming his fingers along the edge of the bar top.
Seriously, Todd, your date can’t be that hot.
Everyone points to the one they pick, and it’s four to one, in favor of Davis. Why I made this bet with a chef, I have no flippin’ clue. Todd releases a deep breath, and his eyes veer to me. Smirking, he points to mine, making him the only one to not pick Davis’s, which I know for sure he preferred.
I give him a big smile and mouth, Thank you.
He nods in response, but his eyes immediately cast down. I’ll prepare myself for a lecture tomorrow.
“Well . . . thank you all for staying late. You’ll be the first to leave tomorrow night, if you choose. Good night.” Davis dismisses everyone without divulging who the winner is.
I’m assuming he doesn’t want questions about wagers and who will be cashing in on what between us.
All of them quickly wave good-bye, and I notice my coat and purse lying across the bar. Todd motions toward it with his head, and I scrunch my eyebrows at him. He in turn widens his eyes, and his head points a little more exaggerated this time. I shake my head, and his lips form a tight line while his jaw juts out at me. Someone should remind him that he isn’t my father, and I don’t need his permission to stay.
The others file out, leaving me, Davis, and Todd.
“I know you have that date, Todd. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Amelia gets home safe,” Davis tells Todd.
I raise my eyebrows at Todd, silently saying ‘you have a date, so leave me alone’.
Todd’s chest rises and falls. He’s struggling inside of himself, and I’m curious to why. He’s the one who wanted me with Davis to distract him from the kitchen.
His eyes find mine, asking me if I’m okay with it, and I silently nod. Hopefully, Davis can’t pick up on our nonverbal communication.
“All right.” Todd’s body weaves back and forth. “Yeah, I’m already kind of late due to this whole lame hot chocolate contest.” He releases an uncomfortable chuckle. “Noodle, we’re still on for tomorrow morning?” he asks.
It almost slipped my mind that we have a photo shoot with Gia, the female model I’ve been working with.
“Yeah, ten o’clock. Don’t be late.” I point my finger at him.
His lips stay in a straight line. “Never. See you then.” He bends over the bar and kisses my cheek. His hot breath erupts goose bumps along my neck when he lingers longer than usual. “Be careful,” he whispers in my ear.
When he pulls back, all that anxiety I just heard in his words are vividly clear in the lines of his face.
“Good night, Todd. Have a fun date.” I smile, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he shakes Davis’s hand. When Todd reaches the door, he glances at me one more time before the cool night breeze streams into the restaurant with his departure.
“So, you owe me a tour,” Davis whispers in my ear, the bristle of his five o’clock shadow rubbing along my cheek.
My heart races with his nearness.
“I always pay my bets,” I whisper back.
His hand lands on my hip.
Hoist me up onto this bar, and take me now.
“Hmm . . . I think I made the wrong wager.” His palm tightens, and his breath tickles my ear, making me scrunch my shoulder up in response.
“That’s okay. A tour of art will be fun, too.”
My body falls into his, and his hand glides to the small of my back with his fingers resting on top of my ass.
“A tour of something more beautiful would have been nicer,” he adds.
My hand grips his bicep, so I can remain upright—although, I doubt Davis would let me fall.
“All the art I’ll show you is beautiful.”
“Unless they’re replicas of you, there isn’t anything more beautiful than what I’m looking at ri
ght now.”
My knees buckle slightly, and Davis pulls me toward him. My other hand grips his opposite bicep, and our eyes lock together.
“You’re killing me, Amelia,” he breathlessly says.
“Why?”
“I want you so bad, but I’ve never—I mean, never—had a relationship with someone who works for me.”
His honesty is refreshing. It’s something I’ve wondered about—if I’m just another spatula in his kitchen, so to speak.
“We should stop,” I tell him, my eyes closing with the thought of never being in his arms again.
“I know,” he says with a distinctly wavering voice. “I keep telling myself to leave you alone, to walk away—”
“But?”
Both his hands linger just below my hips, and I crave his strong hands to be all over my body.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs my ass and thrusts his pelvis into mine. The hardness inside his pants is pressed against me. My core clenches as I think of having nothing between us, him sliding in and out of me.
“Just give me one taste,” he says as he bends down.
One hand roams along my back, leaving a quake of shivers up my spine, before it lands on the nape of my neck, and his fingers splay through the strands of my hair. With a light tug, he positions my head exactly where he wants it, and his soft lips press firmly against mine with his tongue creeping into my mouth.
My own hands stay planted on his strong muscles while his tongue dances with mine. He growls into my mouth, and I release a moan of my own. I move my hands to the back of his head, and he hoists me up by my ass, propping me on top of the bar. He positions himself between my legs, and I wrap them around his waist.
“One taste just won’t do,” he murmurs against my lips.
Before I realize it, his fingers start manipulating the buttons on my shirt.
The want and desire of having his hands on my bare skin practically has me combusting. He’s about to open my shirt, revealing my striped satin bra, when the door flies open.
“Are you open?” A drunk college kid stumbles into the bar.
Davis pulls back, and I grab the ends of my shirt and hop off the bar. Davis leaps across the wooden obstacle and is within inches of the kid before his friends come in and pull him out.
I turn the opposite way of the door, button up my shirt, and grab my jacket. By the time I’m ready to go, Davis is locking the door. When he turns around, his forehead scrunches but quickly disappears. He knows as well as I do that we just got carried away in a moment of lust.
“I’ll drive you home.” He strolls by me and heads toward his office.
“You don’t have to!” I yell after him. I can’t help but be a little upset that he didn’t try to persuade me to continue our make-out session.
He shuffles into his jacket and meets me the dining area. “I told Todd I’d get you home safe. I’m a man of my word.”
His change of personality has my mind reeling on what just happened. He flipped from ‘I’m going to devour you’ to ‘You have a contagious disease’ in a matter of seconds.
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” I assure him, not wanting anything more from him than the humiliation he’s about to put me through by driving me home.
“I know, but will you humor me?” His flirty personality has returned.
He’s more confusing than a nun in a strip club.
I roll my eyes but follow him out the back door. There sits a sporty two-door black Lexus. It screams fast and dangerous but mostly expensive as shit, probably costing more than my whole college tuition.
“Nice car,” I say dryly. I refuse to give him any indication of how bad his dismissal is eating away at me.
“It’s a Lexus LFA, one of my only splurges,” he brags.
Well, I can only imagine our definitions of splurge are on opposite sides of the spectrum. I doubt it’s worth the same as a pair of seventy-five-dollar boots like me. That took me two months of contemplating the purchase before I actually bought them.
“Amelia.” He places his hand on my knee.
How did I even get into the car?
Brain, please relent from silent rambles until we are locked safely in the apartment.
“Sorry. What did you say?” I shake my head and turn to his direction. My knee warms with his palm still pressed against it.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
Oh, this should be good.
“West Village.”
He tips his head to the side. “Nice neighborhood,” he mentions.
I wish like hell he hadn’t just found out where I live.
“Believe me, it doesn’t reflect anything about me.” The words spill out before I can clamp my mouth shut.
“I didn’t think it did.” He drives out of the alleyway.
The dark streets are vacant, with the fine-dining restaurants closed for the night. His fingers tap on the steering wheel to the beat of “Sleeping with a Friend” by Neon Trees streaming out of the speakers. The ironic coincidence of the song isn’t lost on me in this moment. If it were my car, I’d have already turned the station by now.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“Sure.”
“You and Todd, have you . . .” he tentatively questions.
I’m half-tempted to lie. A vindictive side of me wants him to know that I’m not about to get down on my knees and be thankful that he’s showing me interest. I’ve dated many guys who think their wealth of money makes women do about anything to be with them. Not this girl—at least not anymore.
“No. We’re only friends,” I say, not revealing much else. It’s really none of his business. “Turn right here, and I’m in the third building on the left,” I instruct him, happy to escape from the car.
“I don’t mean to pry. I was just curious.” He double-parks his car and flips the hazard lights on. With the narrow road, he won’t be able to sit here for long.
“Thanks for the ride.” I rest my hand on the door handle.
“Amelia . . .” He sighs, and his fingers thread through his hair.
“Don’t worry, Davis. I get it. You’re the boss, and I’m the employee.”
“It’s just—”
I place my hand in the air. “Just let it be. I understand.”
A small smile crosses his lips. “We can be friends,” he suggests.
My fingers grip the handle, and I yank the door open. “You and I both know that can’t happen. Let’s keep the line drawn clear in the sand. You don’t step over to my side, and I won’t waver over to yours.” I finally leave his car, making my escape.
I don’t turn around when I reach my door. My keys fumble in my shaking hands.
Get it together, Amelia.
I release a breath when I find the right key, and the lock clicks open. Once I’m in the lobby, I contemplate checking my mail, but I just want to go upstairs and grab a frozen Snickers bar, chalking this night up to a disaster, much like the rest of my life. My hand is about to press the elevator button when strong hands whip me around, and my back slams against the hard metal of the mailboxes.
Davis’s lips claim mine, and he lifts me. Meeting the tongue that filled my mouth just a half-hour ago, I allow myself to feel the warmth of him. His hips pin me, and my back scrapes along the etched steel. My fingers run through his soft, dark waves while I tighten my thighs around his waist.
Much too soon, I’m brought back down to earth, and my feet touch the floor. His chocolate-hue eyes peer down, and his forehead rests against mine.
“You owe me a date,” he softly says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’ll be here, in the lobby, tomorrow at two.”
My knees weaken, and if he lets me go, I’m sure I’ll melt into a puddle on the floor, never to recover.
“Good night, Amelia.”
The next thing I hear is the clicking of the front door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Todd
If Shawn
weren’t walking right next to me, I’d scream to release the aggression flowing through my veins. Fuck me. I’ve pushed Noodle into Davis’s arms. He’s a better man than me, one who can offer her everything I can’t, with his cars, his house, his bank account. On top of that, I’m not sure he’s a bad guy. Other than that stint with Heather, he’s clean. That could have been a rumor, though. She likes attention.
“Will you hire me when you have your own restaurant?” Shawn nudges me.
“You have it made at CHOPs. Why would you leave?” I stuff my hands in my pockets for warmth from the chill in the air.
“I like Davis and CHOPs, but I have no control. Shit, if I need to comp a meal, I practically have to fill out a twenty-page inquisition.” Shawn’s phone rings in his pocket, and he pulls it out. His eyes glisten. “Hey, honey. I’m on my way now. Really? Okay, I’ll be there soon. Love you, too,” he says before tucking it back into his pocket. “My little girl has a fever, and my wife sounds exhausted.”
I pat his shoulder, standing at the top of the stairs to the subway. “Daddy duty calls, huh?”
He huffs. “Yep, but this job is worth the headaches. See you.” He waves and jogs down the steps.
I watch Shawn’s back until he disappears. I’m only delaying my next step. Jim’s probably halfway to obliteration, and I don’t really feel like being lectured on my life goals. If I ignore him and go home, I’ll obsess about him sleeping on his back—or worse, roaming the streets naked.
I glance back at CHOPs one more time. My throat chokes on my saliva as I think of Noodle being in there with Davis with his hands on her body—the body I’ve recently imagined myself touching.
If only my shit baggage wouldn’t get in the way of that . . .
She’s better with him anyway.
I’ll have to keep telling myself that.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I’m dragging up the stairs outside my foster parents’ house for the second time this week. This time, no one’s waiting outside for me, but the television is blaring through the screen door. If I have an ounce of luck, he’s already out cold.
The candles Carol loves emanate the smell of vanilla as I step through the squeaking door. The house hasn’t changed since I left a year ago. Jim’s old, torn-up recliner sits right in front of the television next to the table he eats most of his dinners on.
Seeing You Page 6