Flambé: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Flambé Series Book 1)

by Elle Berlin

  I slide my free hand from her hip around to her stomach, feeling her navel slide against my palm. She’s pure heat, pounding her hips back against me, meeting my strokes with equal fierceness. She’s a dragon on all fours, fucking with fire and force. I lift her frame slightly and she cries out, my cock finding her G-spot as her cunt ripples in pure ecstasy.

  “How does it feel to be owned?” I growl, tightening my grip on her hair. “To know I own your pleasure? I own the orgasm that’s building?”

  “Uh huh,” she murmurs, unable to make words, and I slip my hand forward over the dress to where her tits flail. I pull the fabric down, spilling her tits out of her bra and dress. They flounce free, weight and skin slipping through my fingers as they bounce with the force of our thrusts.

  The pressure in my cock is building. “I’m close,” I hiss, bending over her body and bringing my mouth to her spine. She tastes like salt and sweat, the two of us slick and drenched. The slip of our bodies is part of the appeal as I plunge hard and deep.

  “Don’t stop! Connor, please don’t—” she pants out. “Your cock is, oh God, your cock is so—” I smile against her spine at her garbled pleading.

  She’s definitely begging.

  I let go of her hair and grab both of her hips, straightening my own spine so I’m upright and kneeling. I thrust hard, clutching each side of her pelvis so I can pound her back against me. She starts gasping, her pussy clenching.

  “And for the record,” I say, my balls slapping the back of her thighs, a tightness rippling through us, “I never said I wouldn’t take the job.”

  She starts to come under me—bucking and braying—and I know she heard what I said because she’s pounding so ferociously against my cock, I know it’s her final play for dominance. But suddenly, she’s coming so hard she’s cursing and crying out my name, and I explode, meeting her intensity. An electric bolt of tension and release shoots through my hips as I thrust and pump, emptying myself into her violent quivering. We both become animals, hunching and gasping and crying out for the other to keep fucking.

  I’ve never come so damn hard.

  When we both stop pulsing, our panting breaths match. She’s pissed and exhausted, but so damn satisfied, her whole body heaving with heavy breath.

  “You’re an asshole,” she says and I smile, taking the compliment. I lean forward and kiss her spine softly, before reaching between us to slide my cock out. Arie whimpers as I empty her.

  “I may be an asshole,” I concede softly. “But you love every second of me inside of you.”

  She harumphs, like she wants to disagree, but we both know it’d be a lie. She pulls her thong back up and pushes her dress down over her ass, then she lifts up to tuck those gorgeous tits back into her bra, smoothing the fabric back in place.

  “Hey, you don’t have to get decent again for me,” I tease. “Or run off like last time. Take your shoes off,” I nod down to the heels that clutched my calves. “Stay a while.”

  “I heard what you said,” she remarks, not talking about the shoes and dress comment, but the bomb I dropped when she was coming so hard on my cock all she could do was scream my name. I blink and smile innocently, like I’ve no clue what she means. She stands up and turns back to look at me, her hair a Medusa-wild blaze. God, she looks amazing post-fuck (not to mention before and during). Her eyes slide over me—naked and on my knees, drenched in sex sweat and holding my cock—completely vulnerable. Her gaze wavers for a second, realizing I’m completely prone, and part of me hopes she’ll just admit that what we just did was amazing.

  Instead, her resolve hardens. “Let me make one thing very clear,” she says. “If you show up to the restaurant tomorrow, I’m never going to fuck you again.”

  I smile softly. “I’m pretty sure you promised me that last night too, but here you are.”

  Her eyes go wide. “I’m sorry, but did you think I came here to fuck you?”

  “No,” I say, honestly. “I think you came to convince me to forget your partner’s business proposition. But I also think that once you’re within five feet of me, it’s hard for you to think about doing anything other than getting naked and—” I motion to my cock and stroke it for emphasis.

  She swallows hard, her lips pursed; she’s trying to deny it.

  “And frankly,” I say, “if I work in your restaurant, the odds of this happening again—” I motion between us “—are pretty high for me.”

  “You think you’re that amazing?”

  I shrug, looking her straight in the eye. “I heard you coming, Arie—both nights. You tell me.”

  “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous!”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me those weren’t two of the best orgasms of your life.”

  “Those weren’t two of the best orgasms of my life,” she says dryly, and I smile at her haughty resolve.

  “Almost convincing,” I say. “Except for the fact that you’re trying too hard to not look at my cock.”

  Her eyes flick to my hand holding myself, then back to my face, anger flushing her cheeks like I’ve tricked her.

  “I can’t believe—!” Her shoulders bristle and she spins on her heels, stomping toward the door.

  “You don’t have to go,” I say, catching her ankle before she passes the couch. “Give me ten more minutes and we can have round three.”

  Her eyes flick to my cock again, maybe unconsciously, and then she catches herself and growls at me again, violently shaking my hand away from her ankle.

  “Don’t you dare show up at Flambé tomorrow morning!” she snaps, heading for the door. I stand up quickly, letting go of myself and turning to her in the darkness, still naked.

  “Then don’t leave,” I bargain. “Stay. Have a whiskey.” I nod to the liquor cabinet. “Let me get to know you.”

  She stops, a sternness slipping through her whole demeanor. “Secret agents don’t get to know anyone.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’re past that phase.”

  “I’m not kidding, don’t show up.”

  “Then give me your number.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure I’m just being a normal guy, who—by the way—has no problem admitting he just had two of the hottest orgasms of his life.” Arie licks her lips and tries to pretend that means nothing. “And maybe this is as simple as wanting to see if there’s actually something between us.”

  “There’s not.”

  “Except mind-blowing orgasms.”

  “That I guarantee won’t happen again if you work at my restaurant!”

  “It sounds like they’re not going to happen the second you walk out the door, so … I might as well get the sweet paycheck Simon offered.”

  “I’m leaving now,” she says, turning her back on me.

  “Or you could stay,” I toss back. “And stop trying to control everything.”

  She stops at the door and looks back at me again. She’s silent for a long time and I put a hand on my naked hip, waiting to see what she’ll do.

  “You know,” I say softly, “there was a time I felt the need to control everything too. And trust me, it turned out really fucking bad.”

  She stares at me a long moment before shaking her head. “We’re not doing this, Connor. I don’t know you. I don’t need to know you.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who walked into the Gin n’ Lava. I didn’t seek you out.”

  “Well …” She looks away from me, avoiding my eyes. “That was a weird twist of fate.” But then she rolls her shoulders back and lifts her chin—that same move, trying to bring the confidence back in. “Why don’t we just be adults about this, Connor. The sex was great. Really great.”

  “Just great?”

  She bristles, annoyed. “Okay, yes. Fine! We both know how—” She looks up at me, her eyes tracing my naked frame. “Yes, it was fucking mind-blowing, okay?” I smile, happy she’s at least admitting it. “But there’s no reason to complicate this. So
just … be a gentleman and let me walk away.”

  She stares at me for a long moment and I don’t know what to say.

  And it’s in that pause that she walks out the door …

  Leaving me naked and alone.

  13

  Arie

  I wake up the next morning and stretch, sun sliding over my skin as I moan into my down comforter. My body is limber and sated, the smell of sex and sunshine covering me. I want to roll over and lounge here for the rest of the day, let the bedding hold me like his big, warm arms, consuming. I allow myself thirty seconds to bask in the delicious ache and the memory of Connor’s hands cupping and claiming. God, how is it possible that he knew exactly everything my body wanted? How is it that he can tread the line between gentle and aggressive, seduction and pain? I roll over and bury my face in my pillow, moaning again, the memories of both nights wicking through my mind—those aggressive hands pulling my hips back, teasing my thong, the tease of his fingers, the tease of his cock.

  I sit up abruptly and yank myself out of bed. Enough! I walk barefoot to the bathroom sink and splash water over my face. Taking a cold shower sounds cliché, but honestly, I need to wash the taste of his sweat off of me! I throw my floral kimono on the floor and blast the shower, dunking myself under the icy water. Sharp pellets needle my skin, snapping me from the sex daze, and remind me that I have priorities. And priority number one is making sure Simon understands why Connor is not an option.

  My phone rings and I shoot a wet hand out of the shower, noticing my sister Esme’s name on the screen.

  “Hey girl,” I say, after clicking the accept button and turning the flow of the water down. “You’re on speaker phone.”

  “Where are you,” my sister’s voice floats like a lark on the morning breeze. “Is that a waterfall I hear?”

  “Nope, I’m in the shower.”

  “Oh!” Esme giggles. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You didn’t have to answer.”

  “It’s not a problem,” I explain, lathering up. “What’s going on?”

  “I was just calling to see if you wanted to go to beachside yoga? The spa is workshopping some new classes and I can get us both in for free. It’s at the resort, so you can do yoga first thing in the morning, then head right up to Flambé for work. Interested?”

  “This morning?”

  “The first one is this morning, yes, but they’re going to do them for the next two weeks if you’re busy.”

  “I um …” I rinse off my hair. “I’ve got some stuff today, but—”

  “All work and no play makes Arie a dull girl,” my sister scolds.

  “Oh, if you knew the play I’ve gotten up to in the last two days, you wouldn’t be saying that!” I laugh in response.

  “Is that so?” My sister’s voice gets high and inquisitive. “Are you with someone right now?”

  “What?” I squeak. “You think I’d answer the phone if I was showering with a friend?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” she tosses back, and I flush at the fact that that’s true. I’ve totally taken calls from Esme when I was otherwise occupied. “And who have you gotten into the last few days that constitutes Arie’s latest play date?” Esme pries, and I regret bringing it up.

  “Nobody!” I say too quickly, which only makes my sister howl with laughter. “Look,” I defend, “it’s been stressful at work. I needed to burn some calories and relax a bit.”

  “Yoga works for that too,” Esme teases.

  “Not in the same way,” I respond. “Sometimes you need to let your guard down and be dominated.” Icy water runs down my naked body, sharp against the heat of remembering his hands.

  “He doesn’t sound like nobody,” Esme teases, and I snap out of it.

  “Well, there’s hot yoga for that,” I toss back. “The kind you keep dragging me to where they turn the heat up to 3000 degrees. I’m sure that’s just as good.”

  Esme laughs again. “I love hot yoga, but I’m pretty sure I’d rather have a little of whatever you’ve been playing with.”

  “Seriously, it’s nothing.” I turn the shower off and wring out my hair. “Look, I can’t do beachside yoga today, but text me the schedule and I’ll see if we can meet up later in the week. Sound good?”

  “Brilliant!” Esme chirps. “Oh, and Arie?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “I’m going to corner you later and you’re going to tell me everything about Mr. Domination.”

  “What? No! There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Ha! You’re a lying wench,” Esme calls me out. “And remember, some of us aren’t as daring and ambitious. Some of us have to live vicariously through you.”

  “You could have any man you want,” I counter, which is true. Esme is me with different colored hair. She’s a bloody knockout.

  “Maybe,” she muses, unconvinced. “But I don’t have your virtuoso and daring. You’re an inspiration. And maybe one day I’ll follow your lead. But until then, I’ll just enjoy the beautiful picture you paint for me.”

  “This one’s not sweet or romantic, Esme!” I warn, shaking my head.

  “All the better to inspire me to get out of my shell.” She laughs that sweet giggle again. “I’ll catch you later, Arie.”

  “Okay! Text me the schedule.” I hang up and grab a towel, clambering out of the shower and catching my reflection in the mirror. My red hair and flushed face look back at me like a freaking train wreck. I look like some dripping wet heroine in a dopey romance, completely lame—and weak! That’s the last person I want to be.

  I’m the girl who plays with fire, dammit!

  Simon and I have had our spats, but this whole Connor thing is one step too far. We made a deal when we started this restaurant that it was ours. All ours. We don’t need Hamblin and we don’t need Connor. If Hamblin wants to mess that up, then you know what, we can find another damn investor.

  I beeline it for my closet. I need to make sure Connor doesn’t show up for that meeting!

  14

  Arie

  I stalk through the kitchen and toward Simon’s office when I get to Flambé.

  I know he’s not going to like it. I know we will need to find a new investor. But I’m not a traditional kind of girl, and some things you just know in your bones are the best decision. It’s like that Robert Frost poem, cliché as it may be: embark on the road not taken.

  Cue the power-walk music, cause I’m going in for the kill.

  I charge down the back hall, heels clacking against the floor, hair in a messy bun, my best power-suit on: pencil skirt, nylons, blouse, the whole I-can-make-business-decisions-too shebang. I swing open Simon’s office door without even knocking and he’s mid-sentence when I walk straight up to his desk and cut him off.

  “Look,” I pronounce, throwing a hand on my hip for emphasis. “I know this is not your first choice. I know we said you’d make the business decisions, and I know this isn’t the smartest financial move we could make, but Connor is not coming in this morning.” Simon looks at me wide-eyed, totally caught off guard. He opens his mouth to respond, but I’m not finished yet. “I know what you’re about to say, and you don’t have to worry about it. I talked to him last night and we came to an agreement. He’s not coming in. In fact, no one’s coming in, because this job isn’t going to exist, for anyone, but especially not Connor.”

  “Um—” Simon tries to speak, but I throw up a finger to silence him.

  “Yes, I understand it’s risky. Yes, I understand we have to find a new investor. But creativity is not our weakness. I’m determined to find another way to make this work that doesn’t include cheapening our brand with some thunder-from-down-under shirtless cretin!”

  “Arie, can we—”

  “Arie, nothing!” I say over him. “I know I’m not easy to get along with, and that I can be stubborn and controlling. But this isn’t that! This is about integrity and our dream for this restaurant and not throwing a cheapo third wheel onto a completely well-oiled
motorcycle that functions perfectly well without it. Or some other far more eloquent metaphor, cause I’m a chef, not a poet, but you get the point!”

  Simon stares at me speechless and I shift my weight onto the other hip waiting for him to blast me with his sharp-tongued business acumen. But he’s weirdly silent.

  “Well?” I throw my arms up in the air. “Are you going to say something?”

  Simon shuts his mouth and stares, his face white. Each of his movements look like they’re in slow motion, when a cough comes from behind me.

  I spin on my heels and nearly fall over because—

  Connor is sitting in the chair behind me!

  “Morning,” Connor says with a sheepish smile, lifting his hand from the arm rest and waving his fingers at me. “I think Simon’s not sure what to say because that shirtless third wheel that’s going to ruin your reputation is …” he points at himself “… yeah, he’s sitting right here.”

  My jaw drops open, anger knotting my spine.

  “Not to mention,” he continues, “he’s sitting here wearing clothes.” He tugs at the white t-shirt he’s sporting. “‘Cause, for some reason you seem to think I walk around naked all the time.” His eyes pierce me, sparkling, the corner of his mouth tugging up in amusement. Simon will think he’s talking about my shirtless comment, but that smirk is referencing the fact that he was completely naked when I walked out on him last night.

  “What the hell are you doing here!?” I snap, which causes Simon to shoot up from his desk.

  “Arie!” Simon’s tone is sharp. “Can I speak to you for a moment in the hallway, on the other side of this door. You know, the door to my office? The one that most people would knock on before they barge in and make a fool of themselves?”

  Simon’s entire body is rigid. If he was a cartoon, he’d have steam percolating out of his ears like a bubble machine. I eye Connor, who’s lounging comfortably, none of this fazing him. In fact, he looks amused, like this is exactly what he expected to happen.