Deliciously Sinful

by Lilli Feisty

  “Slow down, killer.” Nick nodded at her glass, which was nearly empty. Again. “This didn’t come out of a box, you know.”

  Did he call her killer? From love to killer? Nice.

  She glared at him. “I know. This came from my cellar, remember?”

  “Yes, I do remember.” He was speaking ridiculously slowly. “Because the cellar is where I retrieved it from. I’m just saying, you might want to go a little slow on the wine. It’s your last bottle of this vintage.” He gave her a wink and took a tiny sip from his glass.

  “What?” Despite the way she was chugging, this was actually her favorite wine, and he knew that. “Then why didn’t you bring out something different?”

  “Because I wanted to pour something special for Sherry.”

  “We have many special wines. Why did you have to go and pick this one?” Phoebe knew she was freaking out over nothing. She knew it, but for some reason she couldn’t stop herself.

  “You did it just to annoy me. And by the way, where did all the other bottles go? We had ten as of last weekend.”

  He shrugged. “Let me see…Just a crazy thought, but perhaps someone…bought them?”

  “All righty, then.” Sherry slid off her stool.

  Phoebe felt her neck burn. She couldn’t believe she’d been bickering with Nick like a teenager. In front of Sherry, no less. Now Sherry would believe all the horrible things Nick surely said about her management abilities.

  “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll get back to the hotel and call it a night.”

  “What hotel?” Nick said. “You can stay with me.”

  “No!” Phoebe slapped a hand over her mouth. Looking around, she saw all gazes land on her.

  She gathered herself. “I mean, there’s no guest room in the cabin.”

  “So?” Nick said.

  So? So they were going to just sleep together? After what Nick had done to Phoebe just hours ago? She thought her insides might explode.

  Nick shrugged. “I’ll sleep on the sofa. Sherry can have my bed.”

  “Oh. Oh.” Phoebe nodded. But they were still staring at her as if she were a crazy person. “I just…um, well, that won’t be very comfortable.”

  Maybe she was a crazy person. Nick certainly made her feel that way. After all, why should Phoebe care where Nick or Sherry slept?

  “Why don’t you stay in our guest room?”

  Phoebe turned her glare to Steve, who had just made the offer. The offer of Sherry staying in their house.

  “Oh, no. Thank you, but I couldn’t.” Sherry slipped her big fancy purse over her shoulder.

  “It’s really not a problem,” Steve said. “We have plenty of room. You’d have your own bathroom. And full use of the kitchen.”

  Phoebe could hardly believe Steve’s pleading tone of voice. Had they entered the twilight zone?

  Sherry shook her head. “Really, I couldn’t impose like that.”

  “And she can stay with me,” Nick said.

  “No.” Phoebe pasted on a smile. “Steve’s right. I mean, that’s what I was going to say earlier, Sherry.” Phoebe gulped. “You should stay with us. We have room and a friend of Nick’s is a friend of…well, you know.”

  Sherry looked from Phoebe to Nick, who shrugged. “They do have a huge place,” he said.

  She glanced back to Phoebe. “And you’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “If you’re positive…”

  “Yes, we’re very positive.” Steve pushed himself to his feet. “Do you have your things with you?”

  Sherry nodded. “Yes. I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet. I wanted to come straight here and see Nick.”

  “Then you can follow me. I’ll show you the way.”

  And just like that, Sherry, Nick’s best friend, was Phoebe’s newest roommate.

  “You.” Her gaze landed on Nick.

  He eyed her warily. “What?”

  “Ever since you arrived it’s been nothing but chaos and mayhem and…and…whisks!”

  “Chaos and mayhem and whisks? Oh, my.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You started it.”

  “No, you did!” The restaurant was almost clean, the staff had gone, and they were the only ones left.

  She poured herself more wine. “You don’t listen. You can’t take an order. You think you’re the king of, of…everything.”

  He slanted her a smug smile. “I didn’t hear you complaining earlier, love.”

  The word was like a punch in the gut. “Do you call everyone that?”

  “What?”

  “Luuuv.” She drew out the syllable with a fake uppity British accent.

  “No. Why?”

  “You just seem to toss the word around as if it means nothing.”

  “It’s just a word.”

  She stalked around to the other side of the counter and started putting clean pots on the shelves.

  “Phoebe?”

  “What?”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “What’s wrong?”

  She met his gaze. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  “Then why do you look as if you want to rip my head off? Again.”

  Because I do. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She tried to shake him off her, but he held her firmly in place.

  “Stop doing that,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Touching me. It’s inappropriate.”

  He raised a brow. “Really? So how was it appropriate earlier when I had you naked in the storage room? Was it appropriate when I was spanking your ass?”

  Her faced burned, but she lifted her chin. “No. That was very inappropriate.”

  He took the soup pot out of her hands and placed it on a shelf. Then he turned to her. “You’re crazy.”

  “You make me crazy.”

  “I do what I can.”

  She clenched her fists to keep from punching him. “I swear…sometimes I could just kill you.” And even as she said the words, her heart pounded with a need for him to touch her. To feel his breath on her skin. To hear his soft voice in her ear.

  She really was crazy. How in God’s name could she be this attracted to Nick Avalon? She didn’t even like him.

  He leaned his hip against the counter. “Aw, but you don’t want to really kill me, do you?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I don’t think you want to kill me. I think you want to fuck me.”

  Flinching, she stepped back. “Don’t talk like that,” she said in a low voice.

  “Why? Are you telling me it’s not true? Are you telling me you don’t want to rip off my clothes, get on top of me, and fill yourself with my cock?”

  “How could you even say those words? Your girlfriend was just here!”

  “Sherry?” He laughed. “Oh, she would never have me.”

  Her stomach lurched. “So you want me since you can’t have her?”

  For a second, she wanted to vomit.

  He simply stared at her. “No, Phoebe. It’s not like that.”

  “Then what’s it like?”

  “Oh my God! You’re the one making me crazy now.”

  “Good. Now you know how I feel. So go ahead. Tell me what it’s like. Tell me what it is you want from me.”

  What was she doing? Her entire body was trembling. She really didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

  “You want to know what I want?” He was nearly yelling now.

  “Yes.” She probably didn’t want to know the answer, but she had to ask anyway.

  He came at her.

  Somehow, she was ready.

  When his mouth hit hers, she was already open. When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Tongues, lips, teeth. Legs, thighs, chests. All colliding, coming together in something so intense, it was nearly violent.

  “This is what I want,” he said. “You. Now.”

  “Ye
s.” She was panting, breathing so hard she could barely talk. “Yes, Nick.”

  As he carried her, she clenched her thighs around his hips as he walked out of the kitchen. Kissing her, he continued down the hallway. He managed to get them into the large restroom at the end of the corridor and then he kicked the door shut behind them.

  “Nick…”

  His lips silenced her. He picked her up and used the weight of his body to hold her against the back of the door. Her shoes fell off. He tugged up her skirt, and she felt his jeans on the naked flesh of her inner thighs.

  Somewhere in the back of her head, it occurred to her that she was pushed up against the door of the bathroom while her chef ravished her. That had to be bad. Had to.

  She pulled away from his mouth. “Wait…what are we doing?”

  “Oh, right. See, I’m about to fuck you.” He pressed his erection against her damp sex, but stopped kissing her. She cried out in protest. She needed him to be kissing her. She needed his mouth, hot and intense, on her lips.

  “First I’ll rip off your panties.” He gave said panties a tug. “Then I’m going to take out my dick and drive it into your pussy.” He pushed against her sex, and she gasped. Loudly.

  Pulling away, he oh-so-innocently looked her in the eye. “You want me to stop?”

  “Oh, God…” He felt so good right there, between her legs. She could feel his cock, so hard. It jerked against her, and she melted even more. Her sex was swollen, sore with want. Ever since that night in his kitchen, she’d wanted this. Wanted it so badly, she knew that she wouldn’t say no.

  She ground against him. “Hell, no. Don’t stop.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  The sound of her panties being torn echoed off the walls. He tossed them aside, and she watched the white cotton fabric as it hit the ground. Yeah, Nick did to her self-restraint exactly what he’d just done to her underwear. He’d torn it off and thrown it away.

  And so she looked him straight in the eye and said, “Nick. Take off your pants.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Nick didn’t need any further invitation. In fact, he was so lost in his desire for Phoebe that he barely needed any invitation at all. If Phoebe had actually wanted him to stop, it would have been incredibly difficult. His cock would have said it was impossible.

  Thank God, she hadn’t said no.

  He yanked her T-shirt over her head, and his gaze fell on her luscious breasts. “Fuck, Phoebe.”

  She stilled.

  He saw the vulnerability in her eyes, and he kissed her gently on the lips. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

  “I know I’m probably not like the typical girls you see…not what you’re used to.”

  Her words, and the look on her face, caused a tiny hurt in his chest. He kissed the top of her cleavage and felt a shudder go through her.

  “You’re right,” he said. “You’re not like most of the girls I’ve been with.”

  She started to struggle, but he held her tight.

  “You’re real.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Real what?”

  “Beautiful.”

  That stopped her. So the bossy, confident Phoebe Mayle was just as susceptible to compliments as the rest of the female population.

  The thing was, Nick realized he meant it when he whispered against her smooth, soft skin, “It’s true.” He lifted her breast from the cup of her bra. “So beautiful.”

  “Stop it.”

  Not this again. He looked up. “Stop?”

  “Saying those things…things you don’t mean. You don’t understand. I don’t care what you say.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. Now come on.” She wiggled against his groin, and he stifled a groan.

  She brought his mouth to hers once again. He kissed her; he touched her. He crushed his pounding erection against her naked pussy.

  “I need to be inside you, Phoebe.”

  “Yes.” She continued to kiss him, and he felt desire in her complete abandon. And it was that abandon that fueled his lust.

  If she was surprised he had a condom in his pocket, she didn’t show it. But, hey. It was habit for him. Back in L.A., he’d never known when he’d need one. Now he held it in his teeth as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock.

  She took the condom from his mouth, ripped it open, and handed him the rubber.

  “Thank God you have one,” she said.

  He smiled. “I can be a useful fellow when need be.”

  He held her against the door as he reached between them and slid the condom on.

  She raised her brows. “Seems you’ve done this before.”

  “I like to be prepared. What can I say?”

  “I don’t want you to say anything, Nick.”

  “Really?” He pressed against her sex, and she gasped. “How about, do you want me to fuck you?”

  She clenched his shoulders. “Do you really have to ask?”

  “No.” He thrust into her. She was so wet. He slid in so easily, so deeply…

  “Uh!” She threw her head back. “Yes, Nick.”

  “Fuck.” He withdrew and entered again. “You feel so fucking good. So tight.”

  “Yes…”

  He could see it in her eyes; she was so turned on by him. Her green eyes had gone dark, emerald.

  “So good…” He barely knew what he was saying. Everything centered around being in her. Fucking her. Feeling her.

  Her legs, wrapped around him, were trembling. But she clung to him, positioning her body just right so he could fit inside her perfectly.

  It felt too good. He could already feel his climax building. The intensity of fucking this woman overcame him.

  When he looked into her eyes, he saw that she was staring at him. He couldn’t look away; he could just withdraw and enter, again and again, gazing into her eyes. Listening to the little cries that escaped her lips each time he filled her.

  He felt her come. Her pussy clenched around him, and she clung to him everywhere, so hard—as if she were holding on for dear life.

  It undid him.

  He drove into her one last time as his own climax tore through him. He shouted—actually shouted—her name.

  He was pretty damn sure he’d never done that before.

  Finally, he came back down to earth. His heart was pounding. His T-shirt was damp from his own sweat. His head was…

  Fucked.

  He pulled out of her and placed Phoebe on her feet. Silence screamed through the small room as reality set in. He stared at the concrete floor as he zipped his pants, focusing on one crack that spread the span of a few feet. That’s what his chest felt like. Cracked.

  He racked his brain for a witty retort, something to save him. But his head was blank. He could still smell her, feel her stickiness on his cock. He could still hear her…her cries of pleasure.

  “I gotta go.” He spun on his heel and charged for the door.

  Her eyes were wide and questioning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just…” He ran one hand through his hair. “I have to finish cleaning up the kitchen.”

  She bit her lip. Damn it. Just the sight of her little pink tongue on her mouth caused a new jolt of lust to shoot through him.

  He yanked open the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Phoebe stared after him. What the hell had just happened? Other than the fact that she’d just had sex in her own restaurant. Yeah, that was something she’d never thought she’d do. But even more confusing? Nick Avalon running away from her after the deed was done.

  Because that’s exactly what he’d done. He’d run away.

  She went to the mirror. “Nice,” she muttered. Of course, she was a total disaster. Her hair was sticking out in a brown, kinky mess. The only makeup she wore was some mascara, and that was pretty much a dark mess under her eyes. And her lips were dry and swollen from the intensity of kissing Nick.

  Shrugging, she went about trying to put
herself back together.

  Why had he run? The look in his eyes had seemed downright scared. That made absolutely no sense. What would freak him out so much? He’d already seduced her with a bowl of pudding and spanked her with a whisk. What had freaked him out?

  Who knew? One thing she’d learned about Nick was that he wasn’t as predictable as she’d originally thought. That sarcastic nonchalance he wore around him like armor wasn’t as thick as she’d first assessed. She’d seen some cracks. She’d seen something more than the smoking, tequila-drinking, conceited bad boy who’d shown up just weeks ago in his great big Hummer.

  After he’d put her on her feet, she’d expected some mocking remark. She’d totally anticipated his giving her some flippant comment and walking out.

  What she hadn’t expected was to see those cracks in his armor. But she had. And they left her more confused than ever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The scream caught in Phoebe’s throat.

  Her hand on her pounding heart, she sank back into the pine chair and tried to catch her breath.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s fine…” Phoebe looked across the kitchen to Sherry, who she’d totally forgotten was staying in her house.

  In her flowing white-satin robe, Sherry had wafted into the kitchen like some kind of ghost. Phoebe had been staring into her mug of cold chamomile tea, pondering what to do about the situation with Nick, when the apparition—Sherry—had come in.

  Sherry looked at the cup clutched in Phoebe’s hand. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  Of course she minded. The last thing Phoebe wanted to do was make chitchat at 2:00 a.m. with one of Nick’s exes, who had her widowed brother-in-law giving her puppy-dog eyes. But Phoebe said, “Of course not. Would you like some tea?”

  Sherry pulled out a chair and floated into it. “That would be lovely.”

  After a second, Phoebe stood. “Right. Let me get it for you.” What? Did the woman think she was running some sort of bed-and-breakfast here? The expectation loaded in Sherry’s question made Phoebe’s hands clench with irritation. She gave the other woman a once-over.

  And why did she have to look so elegant? It was two in the morning, for God’s sake. Like some thirties film-and-screen actress, Sherry sat there in her shiny white nightclothes. Her blonde hair was brushed into a chignon (a chignon! at 2:00 a.m.!), and Phoebe swore the woman was wearing eye makeup.