Some Like It Spicy

by Robbie Terman

  She took his cue and poured herself another glass. “What are we making?”

  He opened the refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients. “Pizza. With a French flare.”

  Her gorgeous blue eyes lit up. “Bet you don’t know how to make a proper Chicago-style pizza. How ’bout I give you a little lesson.”

  “You’re on.” He pulled another ball of pizza dough out of the refrigerator. “Here. Find whatever else you need.” Luckily, he’d had the neighborhood market make a delivery that afternoon.

  She scavenged in his cupboards and the fridge until she found what she wanted. Next to his ingredients, she lined up tomato sauce, a block of fresh mozzarella, pepperoni, mushrooms, onions, and green peppers.

  “Your pizza looks kind of sissy,” she remarked, eyeing his selections.

  “Just wait. You’ll be begging me to let you serve it at your restaurant,” he predicted.

  “Sorry, but I don’t think so. You can’t beat a true Chicagoan when it comes to pizza.”

  He stepped closer to her until they were shoulder to shoulder. He tilted his head so his mouth perched just over her ear. “That sounds like a dare.”

  “More like a challenge,” she said with confidence, but to his delight, he could see a shiver run through her.

  With a chuckle, he removed a ball of dough from its plastic bag. “You may be a master at deep dish, but let me show you how to throw a thin crust.” He demonstrated a few expert tosses.

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “But I’ve got to tell you, those toppings look pretty frou-frou.”

  “In about twenty minutes, you’ll be eating your words.”

  “But look at them. Where’s the tomato sauce, the mozzarella, the pepperoni?”

  He shook his head with a mocking tsk. “And you call yourself a chef. I thought you had more imagination.”

  She actually harrumphed.

  “I’ve never heard that sound out of anyone but my great-aunt,” he teased.

  “Just make your pizza.” He spread a layer of sour cream mixed with Dijon over the crust, which Ashton pretended made her gag. “Can you cut some thin slices of tomato?” He used his thumb and pointer finger to demonstrate the width he wanted.

  “Of course,” she bristled.

  While Ashton sliced the tomato, he crumbled a log of goat cheese. He layered the tomato slices over the sauce, and then crumbled the goat cheese on top. To finish, he topped the pizza with some beautiful tuna and a sprinkle of fresh basil.

  “Voilá,” he said as he finished. “Tell me that doesn’t look delicious.”

  “Let’s just wait until we have something to compare it to.”

  “If you want to be embarrassed, that’s fine with me.” He picked up the tray and set it in the preheated oven.

  “While that’s cooking,” Ashton said, “I’ll show you how a real pizza is made.”

  As she kneaded the dough, he couldn’t help but think this was the best night he’d spent with a woman in a long time. Before he’d moved to New York, when he’d been just a young Southern boy slaving away in his kitchen, he’d dreamed of nights just like this. Of spending an evening in the kitchen with a beautiful woman doing his favorite activity in the world: cooking.

  Ty Junior twitched in protest.

  Okay, his second favorite activity.

  With other women he’d dated, that dream had been impossible. How could he cook with someone who didn’t even eat? Or would just throw up the meal he’d so brilliantly created?

  “Now, pay attention,” Ashton commanded. She picked up the dough, swung it in the air…

  And it landed on his head.

  She erupted into laughter that was contagious. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”

  He lifted the edge of the dough from his eyes. “Maybe you should try it again.”

  She removed the dough, got into position, and threw. This time she wasn’t even close. The dough flew partway across the kitchen and landed half on the sink and half hanging off the counter.

  They moved for it together, bumping heads.

  “Ow!” Ashton half yelped, half laughed as she rubbed the top of her head.

  Ty’s head was stinging, too, but he barely felt the throb over the euphoria.

  He put a hand on the top of her head and began to massage. The bottle of wine they’d finished in record time was making him a bit fuzzy. “I think you need to take a lesson on pizza tossing,” he told her.

  Her hands moved to his waist as they stood chest to chest. He gently massaged the top of her head, while his other hand moved to her cheek. She nuzzled his hand like a kitten.

  Her lashes drifted shut. “This feels nice,” she whispered.

  It did. But he knew something that would feel even nicer. He lowered his head and met his lips with hers.

  She tasted like perfection with a hint of Chardonnay. His lips couldn’t leave her; it was as if his brain had lost all ability to send messages and his body had taken over. His brain was screaming at him that this was all wrong.

  His body knew nothing had ever been this right.

  She returned his passion lips to lips, touch to touch. She gripped his hair as her tongue playfully danced with his.

  His tongue and lips followed a trail across her jawline, down her neck to where her pulse beat a frantic staccato. He teased her there for a bit, enjoying the way she panted and moaned.

  As he kissed her, she slid her hands down his torso and tugged his shirt from his jeans. Her palms slid underneath the fabric to his skin, and the coolness of her hands against his burning skin made him suck in a pint of air.

  Growling, he grabbed her at the waist, and set her on the island counter. She landed in tomato juice and basil and cheese chunks, but she didn’t seem to care as she gripped each side of his head to tug his lips back to hers.

  When he drew back, she groaned in protest.

  He placed his index finger on her lips to quiet her. “I have a new recipe in mind I want to try out.” He moved his hands to her shoulders and dragged the top of her dress off until it pooled around her waist.

  At the sight of her in a lacy, black bra, he felt his eyes bug inches out of his head. “My God,” he whispered on an exhale.

  Her skin turned pink. “Not what you’re used to, right? No implants…just me.”

  “You’re beautiful.” His voice broke with awe. She was real; she was what he’d been missing.

  “You don’t have to lie. I know what I—”

  “Ashton.” He cut her off. “If you don’t believe that I want to fall to my knees right now and worship your amazing body, then I guess I’ll have to show you.”

  He stuck two fingers in the bottle of tomato sauce and ran it over her collarbone. Then, he followed his fingers with his tongue, lapping up the sauce. “Mmm. Sweetest tomato sauce I’ve ever eaten.”

  Ty drew a line down her chest, just teasing the top of her breasts. She pouted when he didn’t remove her bra, only nibbled through the fabric.

  “My turn,” she said as she put the tip of her finger in the sauce. She rubbed it against his mouth, and then lowered to him.

  As they licked every inch of sauce off each other, smoke itched at his eyes.

  “The room’s on fire,” Ashton said against his lips.

  With an annoyed groan, and without breaking their kiss, Ty picked her up. She wrapped her legs around her waist and held on.

  After switching off the oven, he grabbed a towel with one hand, opened the door, and pulled out the blackened pizza. He closed the oven with his elbow, and then dropped the pizza to the floor.

  “Ty,” Ashton giggled, “the food.”

  “Forget about it,” he said. “You taste so much better.”

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  He let go of her lips just long enough to look in her eyes. “I am hungry. For dessert.” He took a deep breath, the Southern boy in him forcing him to ask instead of just take.

  “Are you ready for dessert?”

 
…

  Ashton knew what Ty was asking.

  Part of her wished he’d just haul her into the bedroom like a caveman and take her. This way, though, she had a say, she was responsible for her actions. And her bad judgment.

  God, she knew she was going to regret this tomorrow. Maybe even tonight. But wrapped around him like snakeskin, she’d never wanted anything more. Not winning the show, saving the restaurant, even getting her father’s approval. Spending one night in Ty’s arms trumped everything else.

  She stared into his stunning hazel eyes, which nearly smoked with desire, and knew she was staring at him the same way.

  “Ashton?” A frown of uncertainty marred the perfection of his face.

  She wanted to be coy and clever like him and say something witty. But this wasn’t a game anymore.

  “I want you,” she finally said, then lowered her head to kiss him sweetly.

  He growled and dropped her feet to the ground. “Come on.” Grabbing her hand, he tugged her toward the bedroom.

  In record speed, they dashed through the living room, down a short hall, and into the bedroom. Ty flipped on the lights as they headed toward the bed. She barely had time to glance around the masculine room in grays and blues before her dress pooled at her feet.

  Standing in nothing but her matching black bra and panties, Ashton looked up at Ty. To her satisfaction, his mouth hung open and his eyes were glassy.

  “Funny,” she murmured. “I never thought you’d be the kind of guy who was like lightning in the bedroom.” She expected a smile, but she got an intense stare, one so filled with heat that she actually had to fan herself to keep from bursting into flames.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I know when to go fast…” He lifted her and kicked her dress away. “And when to go slow.”

  As hot as she was, she actually shivered.

  Ashton held her breath, waiting for his hands on her nearly nude body, but he just stood, staring. She fought the urge to cover herself with her arms or dive for the light switch. Her body was long and lean; she had nothing to be ashamed of. But Ty was used to women whose torsos were defined by the number of ribs sticking out. He wasn’t used to staring at a body that wasn’t perfect.

  Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Want to get a move on it, pal?” She tried to sound light, but she could hear her failure.

  His gaze never moved from her, roaming up and down. “This is one of those times I was talking about,” he said. “A woman’s body should always be admired slowly, especially if it’s as perfect as yours.”

  Normally, drivel like that would have set off her gag reflexes, but for some reason, Ty’s slow, sexy drawl made her want to believe him.

  At the point where she thought she might actually go mad, he lifted his hands and placed them on her bare shoulders.

  The coolness of his hands against her raging-hot flesh nearly caused a sizzle. He moved his fingers downward, paying homage to her body with soft, smooth caresses. Her arms, belly, legs, nothing was left untouched. By the time he knelt before her, she panted like she’d just run a marathon.

  And then, when he gripped the sides of her panties with each hand, she stopped breathing altogether.

  “Wait.” She put her hands over his. “You need to do some catching up.” She moved a hand to his shirt. Ty was still completely dressed and she fully intended to do something about it.

  But he just sent her one of those dizzying smiles and shook his head. “Clearly you haven’t been down South. Haven’t you ever heard ‘ladies first’?”

  I need to spend some time in Atlanta, she thought dizzily as he lowered her panties and helped her step out of them.

  Her knees shook until she groped behind her for the edge of the bed and sat down. Ty seemed to like this position even better as he put her legs over each shoulder and buried his face between her thighs.

  At the first feel of his tongue against her, she screamed. She thought she heard Ty chuckle, but she was too lost in the most fabulous sensation she’d ever felt to care. The man clearly had some practice in this area. If she wasn’t personally benefitting from it, she might have been offended. But she’d never felt anything as good in her life as he ran his tongue up and down her cleft, knowing just where to suck and just when to apply pressure.

  Ty pushed one finger inside her, then two, pumping in a steady rhythm. Sweat glistened off her body as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She was getting so close…

  “Ty!” His name burst from her lips as he sucked at that one special spot. She went flying into space, quivering and quaking beneath him.

  He didn’t stop tormenting her until she returned to Earth and her body slowed to just an occasional shake. That’s when she realized she was still gripping his head as if to keep him in place.

  An embarrassed laugh fell from her lips. “With that tongue, you should be carrying a license to kill.”

  He lifted his head, looking way too proud of himself. And damn it, he should be. Her last couple of boyfriends hadn’t come half as close to giving her such a powerful orgasm.

  “See,” he teased, “I can take things slow when the occasion calls for it.”

  “I’m ready for speedy Ty again. I’d like to see how fast he can get his clothes off.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt just enough to pull it over his head. Then, he kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and slid off his jeans and boxers in one motion. After tossing away his socks, he stood for her inspection.

  She rose beside him, slipping off her bra as she did, so they were both fully naked.

  As his hand reached for her breast, she swatted it away. “It’s my turn to look at you.”

  Obligingly, he lowered his hand and got a taste of his own medicine.

  Since she had his face memorized, Ashton started her inspection at his chest, to the brown swirls of hair that covered nipples the color of a perfectly aged rose wine. Her gaze lowered to the brown thatch leading from his navel to between his legs, where he stood proudly at attention. Moisture rose in her mouth as she stared at him and she licked at her lower lip to keep from drooling.

  “Do I meet with your approval?”

  Ty’s question came with a lilt in his voice, but like hers earlier, the joke was missing. Could he actually be self-conscious? It was hard to believe.

  Perhaps it was a little sweet revenge, but she wanted to keep him guessing. A little. “You’ll do.”

  She moved her hands to his chest, rubbing in circles, loving the feel of his soft hair against her skin. As she ran her thumbs over his nipples, she felt them harden into tiny nubs. She had to know what they tasted like.

  Ty’s stomach sucked in as her tongue played. She had just decided to bottle the taste when she was yanked from him.

  “Hey,” she yelped as Ty swept her up in his arms.

  He deposited her on the bed and then crawled over her. As his body covered hers, his face loomed above. “Ashton, the time has come to speed things up.”

  He crushed his lips against hers in a searing kiss that left her speechless. His lips moved across her jaw, down her neck, until they reached her breasts. He covered one with his hand, and the other with his mouth.

  As he laved and played with her, she writhed beneath him, one hand gripping his head to her, the other against his back. She fingered the cords of his muscles, squeezing when the pleasure became nearly too intense.

  Suddenly, he lunged for the nightstand, pulled out a foil package, and before she could even utter a thank-you for remembering, he had the condom in place.

  And then, God, yes, he moved between her thighs, wrapped her legs around him, and plunged deep within her.

  Sounds ripped from both their throats. Growls, groans, moans, sighs, some weren’t even recognizable. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on as he rode her back into outer space.

  She wanted to look at him as he took her into orbit, see the intensity and pleasure on his face. But she couldn’t keep her eyes from rolling int
o the back of her head as sensation after sensation filled her.

  And when her peak hit, she was crying out his name again. Moments later, he was crying out hers.

  He collapsed against her chest, breathing in heavy pants.

  Her arms were still around him, caressing his damp back.

  “Wow,” she whispered against his ear.

  Ty grunted, apparently too exhausted to speak.

  “That was the best cooking lesson I’ve ever had.”

  He managed to lift his head, look down at her, and laugh.

  Exhausted, they both fell asleep for a few hours, waking up near midnight, starving.

  Ty’s body blanketed Ashton, his head resting against her chest. She stroked the top of his head. “There’s always pizza.”

  “I think we dropped it,” he replied. His hand cupped her breast, possessive rather than seductive.

  “You dropped it,” she reminded him. “We could order a pizza.”

  “We’re chefs. I think we can scrounge up something to make.”

  Standing, though, meant the awkwardness of searching for clothes and undergarments and seeing each other with bed head. She knew it was the beginning of the end, as far as any relationship between them was concerned. And she wasn’t ready yet.

  Her stomach, apparently, thought differently, as it chose that moment to let out a noise resembling a freight train.

  “Come on,” Ty said, using his arm to lift her.

  She moaned in protest as her feet hit the cold wood floor.

  “Don’t move,” Ty said. He disappeared into the closet, returning in a pair of boxers, with a shirt and a pair of socks hanging from his arm.

  When she tried to take the shirt from him, he swatted her hand away and placed it over her shoulders himself. She squirmed as he buttoned just enough to keep the shirt on her shoulders, half hating the feeling of vulnerability he inspired and half hoping he’d rip the shirt off and fling her back on the bed, growling stomach be damned.

  Instead, she let him kneel at her feet and dress her in heavy wool socks. He stood and held out his hand. “Come on.”

  She took his hand and followed him into the kitchen.

  The room was a mess. Opened ingredients were scattered and smeared across the counter, and Ty’s pizza was facedown on the ground. They did a quick cleanup and then opened the refrigerator to find something to eat.