by Chloe Cole
She stroked up and down.
Up and down.
His gaze never wavered.
“So?” she asked, her voice husky.
A smile curved her lips as August lowered the bag to the floor. He didn't give it a second glance as he approached, but by the time he stood next to the bed, he'd removed his slacks again. “No more interruptions,” he said. Still watching her, he opened a drawer, withdrew a few foil packets and tossed them onto the bed. “Just you and me until morning.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
The bed dipped and August lay next to her. His voice was soothing. “Don't stop. I want to watch you some more.”
Saffron nodded, rolling her hips and then closing her eyes. She plunged one finger into her pussy, moaning as she pushed into the pooling moisture. He must have thought she neglected her breasts for August pinched her nipples, using the same rough pressure she'd been craving earlier. “Keep going,” he soothed. “Make yourself come.”
She'd never been this wanton before. Never felt uninhibited enough to masturbate in front of a partner. Maybe because she didn't know him well enough yet, that apprehension fell away.
Besides, it felt amazing. Plucking on her clit with one hand, sparking sensation that skittered out to her abdomen and limbs. Using two fingers now to stroke inside her clenching pussy.
Then wet heat enveloped her nipple and Saffron arched, gasping. His tongue swirled over her tip, arousing. Teasing. It was almost instinct to roll her hips faster, rubbing her clit a little harder. “Oh God,” she panted.
He crossed to her other breast. Sucking. Pulling. Using teeth and tongue to bring her to a fever pitch.
Saffron twisted her free hand in the sheets, gripping them. Needing an anchor. It wasn't enough. She reached for him, pushing her fingers through his blond spikes. August growled, nipping her lightly. “Come for me.”
Her eyes slammed shut as her hips punched into the air, an orgasm exploding out of her body. A rush of moisture flooded her fingers. She felt boneless and weightless, as if she would evaporate at once as sensation overwhelmed her. She’d been biting down on her lip, trying to stifle her moans, but now she cried out until her muscles locked and she couldn’t make another sound.
Seconds—minutes—hours passed before her senses returned.
“That's my girl,” August encouraged. “So pretty when you come.”
Opening her lids felt like she dragged the weight of the world, but once she did, intense blue eyes stared back at her. “August...please...”
“Yes, liebling,” he said softly.
She needed. Right now, she needed him. He understood her need.
He made short work of sheathing himself in a condom and moved into her embrace. His lips swept over hers, his tongue teasing along the seam of her lips.
She almost sighed, wanting to get lost in the feel of his mouth against hers. He kissed her as if he found heaven in being with her. If only for tonight, Saffron wanted to return the sentiment. Who knew what tomorrow would bring, but tonight…
She moved her kisses over his chin. Along his jaw line. The pulse in his neck lured her and she bit down gently over it. Her mouth parted, her breath rushing out as August rocked his hips.
A tremor rocketed through her body as he impaled her on his cock, slowly driving forward. Slowly filling her.
“Oh my God…” Saffron whimpered as he pushed every delicious inch of himself into her. Stretching her neglected walls until she thought she couldn’t take any more of the fullness. And still he filled her.
August drew his hips away and pushed into her again. She tilted her own hips, grateful for the minor reprieve while simultaneously suffering from the momentary loss. He braced his forearms on either side of her and she clamped onto his arms. After he pulled himself out again, his hips drove forward harder than before. Faster. Again.
Saffron arched into him as he managed to touch the same sweet spot over and over. Eyes clenched, she soared as he moved in her, forcing the almost unbearable pleasure.
“So hot. So tight.” August’s voice sounded strained. His breath fanned against her skin before he captured her lips.
She shouldn’t be here. In the morning, during the light of day after she told him who she was, all of this—this incredible union—would be forgotten. The way he felt in her arms, the blazing kisses he trailed, the satisfaction of hearing his rough breathing would have vanished.
But she would not let those thoughts steal her from him right now. Pushing them aside, Saffron reveled in the way he felt in her body. On her body. The strength of his thrusts. The force of his kisses.
A tremor churned deep in her belly, until soon it turned into tingling. It spread in surges, muscles locking with every wave. Saffron threw her head back and screamed, coming hard, her nails digging into her lover's arms. “Oh God...”
Her body was shaking, trembling. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, clutching on to him, coaxing him to come with her. The sound of him thrusting into her wetness amplified next to the sound of their bodies coming together.
August suddenly withdrew and before the shock settled, he flipped her onto her hands and knees and drove into her again. Saffron cried out, louder, as another orgasm sneaked up on her. He kept hitting a wonderful spot and she clutched the sheets, rolling her hips, loving the sound of his grunts as he fucked her well. The tenderness from before dissipated beneath the need for completion.
His grip on her hips tightened painfully, but Saffron delighted in his rough touch. It was worth the slight sting. Strangely comforting.
Her breathing was ragged. Hoarse. Her throat dry from panting.
“So good,” August gritted.
It was! But she didn’t know if she could take any more. Her knees burned from rubbing against the sheets. Her hands would probably never unfurl, they’d been clenched so tightly. She’d never felt so full—so exquisite—as she did right now. Her body was dripping, both perspiration and cream rolling down her thighs.
“Scream for me again,” he ordered.
She didn’t think she could; he must have wrung her body of everything it was capable of giving by now. But then August slid his hand from her hip and let a single precise finger toy with her clit. His thrusting increased in pace, his rubbing matching the frenzy.
Her gasping moans turned into one long wail as the incredible pleasure speared through her body. And then the wail had no choice but to morph into a scream. “August!”
His breath caressed wetly against her neck as she felt August close the space between their bodies. He was thrusting hard, filling her, groaning as he came. His lips moved over her skin, whispering words, searing kisses, tasting.
Shivering arms refused to hold their combined weight and Saffron fell forward, bringing August with her. On any other day she might have been smothered by his bulk, but for a few minutes more she wanted to bask in how he felt connected to her. Besides, she had more important things to deal with now: her overheated body struggling to return to normal, where white lights didn’t appear in spots behind her eyelids and her breathing didn’t belong to someone who’d just run the Boston Marathon.
He groaned. “Sorry. Just a minute…”
She blew out panting breaths. “Dear heaven, now why are you sorry?”
“Can’t get my arms and legs to work. I must weigh a ton.”
She laughed, kissing the section of his jaw she could reach. “It feels good. Don’t move yet.”
“Condom,” he said with another groan and to her dismay, pulled out.
Saffron inhaled deeply, pulling her hair away from her sweaty back while August left the room. For the first time she noticed the scent of him in the sheets, now combined with the heady scent of sex, and a little of the tension which had eased earlier came creeping back.
So wrapped up in her thoughts, she jumped when the bed dipped.
“Did I startle you?” August asked. He set the white paper bag on the nightstand, starting to withdraw containers of food.
/> “I must have dozed off.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Not yet. I still need to feed you.” He held out a bowl and plastic spoon. “Think you can sit up?”
Her perpetually empty stomach rumbled nosily as the first smell of something amazing struck her. He didn’t have to ask her twice and she reached for the soup. “Zuppa di fungi, right? Mushrooms?”
“Very good.” He gave her a sweet smile and Saffron took a minute to study him now.
While some of his intensity had dissipated, a sexually satisfied August seemed gentler somehow. A sudden urge to curl up next to him gathered in her and Saffron had to stifle it. She would enjoy tonight; tomorrow held no promises. She would not get too caught up in this man.
She took a sip of the soup and moaned. “Oh my, this is almost better than the sex.”
“Hey!”
“I said almost.”
August dipped his head toward her and Saffron lifted her lips to receive his kiss. It was sensual and just as sweet as the smile he’d just gifted her with. “What was that for?” she asked.
“I haven’t had a night off in almost five months. And this has probably been the best night off I’ve had in years. Thank you.”
She tried to return his smile, but guilt assailed her. Instead, Saffron busied her hands and mouth with another spoonful of the wonderful soup.
In the morning, she’d tell him.
In the morning, this fairytale would come to an abrupt end.
Chapter Eight
Despite the fact he created the recipes, August ate as if he’d never tasted food in his life. He was famished and everything tasted so good. So vibrant. And there was a beautiful naked woman in his bed, enjoying it with him. What more could a man want?
“You’re going to give yourself indigestion at the rate you’re eating,” Saffron said, laughing.
“Making sure I power up for round two.”
Her fork faltered over the risotto, his masterpiece offering for Restaurant Week. She’d been taking delicate bites of it, picking through the pieces, identifying ingredients one by one, much to his amusement.
“There’s going to be a round two?” she asked shyly.
God, he hoped so. “Absolutely, if I have anything to say about it.”
Her smile erased any doubt that she might not stick around, not that he'd had any.
“It's getting late,” she said, her lips curving into a smile.
“Barely ten. I'm just getting into my groove at this hour. Trust me, you won't want to miss it.”
Saffron's eyes rolled. “How can I resist a sales pitch like that?”
“I know, right? It's like I was born with a silver tongue.”
She flicked a rice grain at him.
They ate a few more bites in silence. August tried to slow down, to not look like a glutton in front of the woman he was on a mission to impress. She continued to tease out ingredients, setting them aside in stacks, as if intrigued by each one. Her head canted to the side before her eyes narrowed while she studied the food. Then she swirled the succulent duck back into the creamy rice. Sweet pieces of fig joined the mix, along with the few pieces of herbs she'd spread onto the side of the bowl.
“My God, you eat like a scientist,” August said, smiling. It was rather fascinating to watch.
She shrugged. “It's kind of a hobby of mine. I like to figure out what's going into the food I eat.”
Her words suddenly made him a little wary and August tried to push it aside. Damn Vicky for coming to him with something so ridiculous as accusing Saffron of working for Brun.
It just went to prove that the stress of Restaurant Week was becoming too much for his staff to handle. He had to confess the annual event made him worse than a bear with a mouthful of cavities. The pressure to perform—not just perform, but outperform—everyone else in a side by side arena, translated into late nights and overworked staff. Hell, maybe next year he'd step aside. Just for one year. Give his staff a chance to actually enjoy themselves instead of grow moodier. Then again, maybe they enjoyed the extra tips. He’d have to ask and gauge their interest.
“You could just ask me what's in it.”
“Nah. This way is more fun.” She suddenly sat upright. “Wait a minute. This risotto isn't on your regular menu, is it? Neither is the mushroom soup.”
He grumbled. “You make it sound so ordinary that way. Zuppa di fungi selvaggia, if you please.”
“But they're not, are they? I don't remember seeing them tonight. Are they new or something?” Her gaze strayed to the bowl of risotto.
If she noticed the way he'd tried to deflect her question, he couldn't tell.
“No, they're not on the menu. Now eat. I want you to try dessert.” He arched a brow suggestively. “It has a sauce designed for being licked from a woman's thighs.”
“But if they're not from the regular menu, how did your cook know to make them?”
August set the rest of his risotto aside, the urge to keep eating leaving him by the second. He couldn't stop hearing Vicky's parting words to him when he decided to deal with Saffron's possible duplicity on his own.
Yes, technically it was his night off and he wasn't needed at the restaurant for anything, but for some reason he'd seen this woman and let all of his common sense and ambition take a back seat. It had been a long time coming to do something so frivolous, but with every question she asked him, self-doubt assailed him.
He gave it one more try. “Tomorrow night, I won't be home until after three—”
“In the morning? That's insane!”
“I know, but such is my life. Anyway, what about meeting me here around eight for breakfast? We could eat, catch a few early morning cartoons while snuggling in bed together. One thing could lead to another...”
“You’re going to work all night, sleep less than five hours and then spend time with me?”
“Why not?”
“I’m flattered, but wow. You’ll be exhausted.”
“I’ll only have a few hours to spare.” He didn’t like the tone of this conversation at all. Was she avoiding him? “I’ll need to go back to the restaurant to help prep for Saturday night service. Our busiest night of the week.”
Her fingers toyed with the plastic fork. Her gaze remained fixated on the half-eaten bowl of food. “It must be difficult for you to date,” she said softly.
“Hey, look at me.” He clasped her hand and waited for those pretty eyes to focus on him. “Don’t shut us down before we’ve had a chance to try it out. It might work.”
It had never worked.
“It might,” she agreed. Nothing in her voice suggested she believed her own words.
God, he didn’t want the night to end like this. It had been too spectacular to wrap up on a sour note. When had things started to go wrong?
If he could take an unprecedented night off to spend some time with Saffron, then he could maneuver his schedule a little to be with her again. Once the weekend was over, he could. Except he still hadn’t decided on the Spring menu. Okay, after that he could. Especially after Restaurant Week. Then there was the summer to start thinking about.
Fuck.
He could make this work.
Couldn’t he?
***
Somewhere along the way, Saffron forgot about tomorrow. During the past several hours, she’d lived in the here and now, relishing every minute with this incredible man.
She stared blindly into the bowl, not seeing the remains of the food now lying like a cement lump in her stomach. She didn't want to think about this. Not once had she considered the consequences of sleeping with August. Nothing had prepared her to feel so abandoned once she figured out tonight would be a one-time event. Maybe deep in her subconscious she knew it already, but now that the reality stared her in the face, she didn't like it one bit.
And great. To top off the evening, maybe instead of waiting until morning, she should let him in on her secret, before things got any heavier.
Th
ey'd been doomed from the start.
“This is really good,” she mumbled. “You should put it up on the menu. Trust me, people would gobble it up.”
August made a noncommittal sound. “It’s a specialty item.”
“If you guys are participating in Restaurant Week, you’ll have them lined up down the street for it.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “In fact, we are participating in Restaurant Week. We do every year. It’s one of our best ways to bring in new patrons who will become regulars and not just tourists who only come once a year.”
“Awesome. What about the soup? Will that be on the menu too?”
He stiffened a little. At once her probing didn’t seem like such a good idea. “You’re awfully interested in my menu all of a sudden. Is there a particular reason?”
“Not a particular reason.” She tried not to look guilty. “I mean, I’m interested in knowing about you and your world. Everything about it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even be able to teach me how to make a decent risotto.” Even the light laughter added to put him at ease sounded hollow.
“Wait…you can’t cook?”
“Nope.”
“Come on. If you can read, you can cook. All you have to do is read the instructions and voila, dinner.”
“I swear I could burn water. I had a cooking instructor once who got so flustered with me this one particular time. He said my attempts at poisoning him made him consider an early retirement. He’s the one to convince me to consider a career— ” She bit her lip, at once flustered with a runaway mouth.
“A career?” August repeated, obviously prodding her to complete the thought.
Damn it.
She would have loved just a few more hours with him. A few more to get to know the obsessively neat man who made her laugh. Hell, even a few more minutes just enjoying his company.
When was the last time she’d had such a good time? Dining alone, regardless of the variety of places, didn’t end up being as glamorous as one would think her job would be.
No. August made her laugh. And he made her feel beautiful.
“I should tell you something,” she said. It took a reserve of courage to continue looking him in the eyes.