by Julie Kenner
“You,” she said, stepping aside and handing him the spoon. He set it on the drainboard and picked up two forks before dropping the banana pieces into the skillet. She watched as David easily basted the bananas, getting them all nice and gooey in the sauce. She was impressed. If she were doing that, she’d have ended up with strained bananas whether she wanted them or not.
Jacey stayed right behind him, drawn like a moth to a flame. No one in her family cooked worth a damn, Tasha could barely boil water, and the only guy she’d ever heard of who cooked on a regular basis was Wolfgang Puck. To say she was impressed was an understatement.
“Where’d you learn to cook?” she asked, peering over his shoulder and breathing deep. Yum. Her mouth watered some more.
“Taught myself,” he said. “It seemed like a cool thing to do.”
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “Most guys think demolition derbies are cool. Not messing around in a kitchen.”
“Spenser,” David said.
Jacey frowned. That made no sense. “Huh?”
“Haven’t you read Robert B. Parker?”
He was still stirring, so she just aimed a blank stare at the back of his head.
He turned around. “No?”
“No.”
“Pass me the liqueur,” he said. She did, unscrewing the lid for him before handing it over. “Spenser,” he continued. “Totally cool private eye in Boston. He cooks.”
“Oh!” Okay, that made some sense. “I’ve seen some of the TV movies.” She frowned. “But isn’t he like some gourmet cook?”
“I went straight for the important stuff,” David said. He moved the skillet off the fire, then poured some liqueur carefully into the pan before aiming a wide grin at her. “Are you ready? Because it’s Showtime.”
Jacey had no idea what the big deal was. It smelled wonderful, true, but it looked pretty goopy. Still, David seemed to be expecting a response, so she said, “Sure.” And when she did, David tilted the pan. A pure blue flame burst forth, leaping and dancing almost as high as the stove hood. Jacey clapped, totally delighted.
“Wow,” she said. “And here I thought Chips Ahoy dunked in ice cream was a fancy dessert. Shows what I know.”
David’s eyes crinkled. “Don’t knock the simple pleasures,” he said. His slight grin zinged straight to her heart and she gasped, suddenly sad when he looked away. “Why don’t you grab those bowls?”
She nodded, then passed the bowls his way, watching as he scooped two slices of banana out for each of them, then drizzled some of the warm syrup on the ice cream.
A bit of syrup spilled over the edge and David caught it with his finger. “Bananas Foster,” he said. “I hope you enjoy.”
She swallowed, imagining her lips closing on his fingertip. Oh, yeah. She’d enjoy all right.
“Jace?”
She blinked, her cheeks warming when she realized where her mind had wandered. “Oh, right. I’m sure I’ll love it.” If that wasn’t the understatement of the year. One spoonful and she was in heaven. The dessert was practically orgasmic and she idly wondered if she ought to get David to share the recipe with Tasha. Maybe her roomie could use the dessert as a substitute for sex with Bob.
“What’s so funny?” David asked.
She shook her head, not about to share that secret with him. “Just my mind wandering.” She took another bite, letting the confection melt in her mouth. “This really is amazing.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said.
He took a step closer and Jacey automatically stepped back, until her hip bumped the edge of the sink. A lazy grin spread across David’s face as he reached out, the edge of his thumb grazing the sensitive skin of her lower lip, leaving it tingling in his wake. All her blood pooled between her thighs and her knees threatened to give out.
“You dribbled some,” he said, his voice a low rumble. And then, without ever taking his eyes from hers, he put his thumb in his own mouth and licked the sauce off.
She pressed her lips tight together, afraid that if she didn’t, she’d mew like a kitten. This was a bad idea—where her thoughts were heading, where he was heading—a very bad idea. She knew that. Somewhere deep down inside, she knew it well.
But damned if she could remember why.
No, right then, all she wanted was to toss the dessert aside and taste this man. Forget sweets, forget ice cream. She wanted spicy. She wanted hot.
So help her, she wanted David.
“I think I missed some,” he said. His thumb brushed her lip again. “Right here.”
He touched her mouth with his thumb, gently urging her to part her lips, to let him in. She did, her mouth opening with a little sigh as he slipped his thumb inside. She licked the sauce from his thumb, her tongue laving the slightly rough skin. Then, without ever taking her eyes from his, she closed her lips around him and sucked, drawing his thumb in and out, in and out. The erotic rhythm took hold and her body pulsed in anticipation.
David groaned and Jacey felt her nipples peak, his response turning her on as much as his touch. She concentrated on his thumb, wanting to hear his sounds of passion, wanting to give him pleasure. With her tongue, she teased and tasted, letting this wild, wanton feeling in her body build slowly.
He kept his eyes closed and a wave of power crashed over her. She was doing this. She was turning this man on.
The thought intoxicated her. Heck, he intoxicated her. And when he opened his eyes and looked at her, she knew she’d suffer through the worst kind of hangover if it meant she got to spend the night making love with this man.
“Have you ever made love in a kitchen?” he asked, his voice raw.
She shook her head, sure she was blushing. She’d been thinking that very thing, but somehow it was so much more decadent to hear the words spoken.
“Unless you tell me to stop now, sweetheart, you’re about to.”
“I’m not going to say a thing,” she whispered. She felt bold and wild and the sensation was freeing.
“Good,” he said. He took her hands in his, urging her to tug on the hem of his shirt. She did, pulling it out from the waistband of his jeans. Slipping her hands under, she splayed her fingers over the solid wall of his chest, smooth except for a silky smattering of hair. Boldly, she urged the shirt up and over his head, then let it drop to the floor behind them.
Bending at the waist, she pressed her lips against his skin, his warmth surprising her. The man was a furnace, all heat and power, and right then she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by that power—and to tame it. She dusted his chest with light kisses, pausing to tease his nipples with her tongue before moving up to kiss the soft spot at the base of his throat.
She felt as much as heard his low noise. A wild, primal sound of longing. In a rough move, he grabbed her by the hips, then slid his hands up to her waist and around until he found the skirt’s zipper. She heard the distinctive sound of the metal teeth parting and then the skirt hung loose on her hips. David eased it down, letting it drop to the floor as the cool air caressed her now bare thighs. She stepped out of the circle of the skirt and he kicked it away.
“The jacket, too,” he said. She nodded and slipped her arms out of the sleeves.
“It’s Tasha’s,” she said, as he tossed it into the corner with the skirt.
“I’ll buy her another,” he said, his gaze burning a path down her near-naked body.
She stood before him now, clad in only the silk blouse and her underwear. Her body tingled all over, aching for his touch, and she moved toward him, silently begging for his caress.
He heard her plea. Reaching down, he slipped his hands between her thighs, stroking her sex through the thin material with the palm of his hand. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She nodded, not sure of her ability to form words.
“Or maybe it’s this,” he said, slipping first one finger, then another under the satin crotch.
Jacey moaned, wet and desperate, her hi
ps moving of their own volition. His fingers delved into her soft folds and her body tensed, every nerve on hyperalert as he stroked the ultrasensitive skin. He teased her a bit, his finger dancing near to her core, but never quite there. She squirmed under the sweet torment, silently begging him for more. Instead, he slid his hands away and she moaned in protest.
“Trust me,” he whispered, grabbing her by the hips and lifting her to the counter. In one definitive motion, he spread her legs, moving between them, so that the cool countertop pressed against her rear contrasted with the warmth gathering where their bodies touched.
He kept one hand on her hip, pinioning her in place, as the other cupped her mound, stroking her through the thin material of her panties. The feel of him there made her ache for more intimate contact and she arched back in need, her pulse pounding through her body, its tempo increasing with the unspoken promise of his touch.
“Kiss me,” she begged, straightening and looking deep in his eyes.
His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue, hard and demanding, seeking entrance. She opened to him, the kiss hot and wet, tinged with the seductive taste of cinnamon and sugar. A slow heat spread through her and her body tingled, the sensation pooling at her core. His fingers still teased her and she wriggled her hips, the decadent sensation overwhelming her.
His mouth moved over her and the kiss turned wilder, more demanding. He took his hand off her hip, moving it up to cup her head, his fingers twined in her hair as he held her in place, his mouth taking what he wanted, his need palpable.
Electricity burned through her veins and she met his kiss with a hunger of her own. When he pulled away, breaking contact only slightly, she moaned in protest.
“Tell me,” he murmured, his lips touching hers even while he spoke. “Tell me what you want.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “You.” She locked her legs around his thighs, urging him even closer, cursing the damn jeans he still wore. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want all of you.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Something hot and dangerous.
“Ah, sweetheart,” he said, his fingers grasping at the thin material of her panties. He pulled and her gasp rivaled the sound of the material as it ripped away. “I think you just about made my day.”
Chapter 11
I knew she didn’t want me. I wasn’t the kind of mug a dame like Mallory went after. No, the woman had an agenda. She wanted to distract me. To keep me from looking for Sarah.
And damned if I didn’t play right into her hands.
“It won’t work, Mallory,” I whispered. “You can’t distract me that easily.”
“Can’t I?” she asked. And then she proceeded to try.
Her lips enticed and her body made promises I knew she wouldn’t keep. I was a fool for falling for her and I damn well knew it.
But I couldn’t help myself. Sarah, I could look for later. Right then, all I could do was hang on and enjoy the ride.
• • •
Damn, but he wanted this woman. Even though he knew he shouldn’t. Even though he knew he wasn’t what she wanted and that in the end he’d disappoint her. Despite all that, he wanted her.
And right then, that was all that mattered.
“David.” His name on her lips was like a sigh and he quit thinking. Instead, there was just Jacey. Her scent, her touch, and the promise that he could bury himself in her and finally quench the fire that had been burning since she’d walked into his life.
Her nipples, already ripe and hard, pressed against the silk of her shirt, begging for his touch. She must have been wearing only a thin bra, because he could see them clearly, and he moved his hands down her sides, letting his thumbs graze her breasts, then inched in to tease those peaks. A breathy noise escaped her and he bent down, taking her breast in his mouth even through the thin layer of silk.
She moaned, her legs clamping tighter around him as she leaned back, propping herself on the countertop, the movement giving him easier access to her breast. His stiff cock pressed against her, pulsing in demand, and he stifled the urge to unzip his jeans and sink himself deep inside her. Soon. Very soon.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, taking his mouth away just long enough to form the words.
“Yes,” she whispered, as his mouth closed over her again. Then, “No. More. Oh God, David, please, more.”
The desperation in her voice fired him and he had to see her, had to touch her. He slipped his hands under the soft material. Her skin burned hot against his fingers, and he groaned, low and deep.
He pulled his hands free, then went to work on the tiny buttons on the front of the shirt. “What is it with these damn little pearls?” he asked.
She didn’t say a word, just clutched his shoulder with one hand as she undid each button with nimble fingers. She moved her hand down to the counter, using it for balance again as he pushed back the shirt until it fell off her shoulders, the material locking her arms behind her.
Her bra clasped in front and with a quick snap, he unfastened it, freeing her breasts. Her nipples stood ready and at attention, the rosy skin around them puckered and tight.
He bent low, covering her breast with his mouth. He licked her nipple, then concentrated on the other one, while her hands stroked and caressed his back. The taste of her enticed him and a primal need burned through him, heating his blood to near boiling. When he’d had his fill, he lifted his head to smile at her. “Delicious.”
“Glad you think so,” she said, her voice low and sexy. She shrugged out of the shirt, the bra falling to the counter with it, and he could only stare at the beautiful, naked woman trapped in his arms.
“Let’s see if the rest of you is as delectable.” He drew a path with his tongue between her breasts and down toward her stomach, nipping and tasting, indulging in the sweet, salty taste of her skin. He dipped lower, teasing her belly button with the tip of his tongue. She writhed against him, silently letting him know she wanted more.
His knees pressed against the tile floor as he knelt in front of her, his hands tight around the curve of her waist and his mouth skimming the soft skin of her inner thigh. He breathed deep, the musky, feminine scent pushing him toward the precipice. He shifted his gaze to the triangle of copper curls, now damp with longing.
“David,” she whispered, and he heard the uncertainty in her voice even as she tried to press her thighs together, her efforts blocked by his shoulders.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, tilting his head back to look her in the eye. “You’re beautiful.” He punctuated the words with a kiss on her thigh. Then another and another. When he felt her body tremble under his fingers, he dipped his head, laving her wet, slick heat with his tongue. She moaned, deep and wild, with an abandon that tugged at his groin. Her fingers plunged into his hair, holding tight even as her legs closed, her inner thighs clamping down around his ears.
While his tongue danced over her, his hands caressed her butt, lifting her partially off the counter and holding tight as she trembled against him. She was so responsive, and with every little moan, every little shiver, he just got harder.
He wanted to take her to the edge and so he didn’t waver in his ministrations. But when she started to quake he pulled back. Too soon. Much too soon and he wanted to see her face when she came.
“David.” His name was a whisper of protest on her tongue.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said. “We’re just getting started.” He stood up, trailing kisses as he did so. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed. She reeked of sex and sin and she was all his. He was near exploding just from looking at her.
Her eyelashes fluttered open and he caught the dreamy expression in her eyes. She sat up straight, hooking her arms around his neck. He fought the urge to undo his fly, grab her by the hips, and thrust forward, impaling her on him. Soon, but not yet. For all he knew, he’d never make love to Jacey Wilder again. He intended to do everything in his power to make it last as long as possible.
As if reading his thoughts, Jacey’s delicate hands traced down his chest, then moved down to the closure of his jeans. She tackled the button, then started to inch his zipper down. David caught her hands, stopping her. Considering how turned on he was at the moment, he feared a serious zipper accident unless he handled that bit of choreography himself.
“What—?”
He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Let me,” he said, pulling his jeans and boxers down and stepping out of them. He moved back toward her, settling in as her thighs pressed against his sides, the softness of her bare skin against him teasing his senses. His erection stood out, firm and demanding, poking against her. Just one quick thrust and he could be inside her, buried deep in her velvety heat.
“David,” she whispered.
“Hush.” He intended to go slow, speeding up only when neither one of them could stand it anymore.
His fingertips grazed over her face, down her nose, over her lips, down her chin. He traced the elegant curve of her neck, then down until his fingertips closed around her nipple and he rolled the tight little nub between his fingers.
She moaned and he closed his mouth over hers, stifling the sound. This was a three-fold assault and he eased his hips forward, reaching down to guide himself into her. But just barely. Just enough to torment them both.
He rocked forward, sinking slightly into her as she contracted around him. She squirmed forward to meet him, her fingers sinking into his shoulders when he pulled back. Again he lost himself to her sweetness, barely entering her before pulling back, just enough to whet her appetite and his.
She broke their kiss, her head tossed back in passion, her arm around his neck clutching tight to him. “David,” she begged. “Now.”
He needed no further encouragement. Grasping her hips, he sank all the way into her. Her wet heat enveloped him completely and he rocked into her, watching her face as the cyclone built. Her breath came in unsteady spurts and he shifted slightly, the need to find the exact spot overwhelming. She gasped, letting him know his efforts had succeeded.