Deliciously Sinful

by Lilli Feisty

  He wore heavy rubber gloves and carried a big wire basket in one hand. In his other hand he wielded a small black rake, and with this tool he began scraping oysters from the reef and dropping them into the basket.

  She watched. She didn’t know why it was so fascinating to observe Nick like this, but it was. He seemed so comfortable out here in the wildness of the sea that it surprised her. She would never have expected Nick Avalon, the snooty chef from Los Angeles, to wander out in the cold waters of the northern Pacific Ocean to gather oysters.

  He looked up at her and smiled.

  Right then, her heart melted a little bit. He looked so happy, like a kid. She smiled back, and it came from deep inside her. He made a motion as if he wanted her to join him, but she was nailed to her spot.

  The wind whipped at her, and she pulled her hat farther down on her head. She didn’t care how cold it was. Watching Nick out there, stepping carefully through the rocky reef, was simply fascinating.

  He was fascinating to her.

  And, for some reason, she was starting to trust him.

  And there was no denying her body’s response to his touch. Just the thought of his fingers on her skin sent a shiver through her, a shiver that had nothing to do with the chilly fog surrounding her.

  She loved being touched by him. Loved it so much it scared her.

  She’d had casual sex; she’d had sex when she was in a serious relationship. Until she’d met Nick, she’d thought sex with Bear was as good as she was ever going to get. And the casual sex filled a need.

  But, there was nothing casual about the way she felt when Nick touched her. When they had sex, it touched her somewhere, everywhere. From her toes to her chest to her head. She’d experienced a connection with him unlike anything she’d ever encountered before.

  She hugged herself tightly as another breeze hit her. Yeah, she was starting to recognize how she felt about Nick. The question was, How did he feel about her?

  When he was young, the one place Nick could go to get away from everything, the one place he felt safe, was the beach. Now, as he raked up another shell, he retreated to that place. He lost himself in the salty air, the sounds of the waves. He forgot about his father, his job, where he was…He forgot how easy it was to lose himself from everything.

  Well, everything except her.

  Nick thought he’d never seen anything as cute in his life as Phoebe at that very moment. Standing there on the beach, in her puffy jacket and faded jeans and colorful knit hat; he waved at her, and she waved back. It made his chest clench.

  She was starting to trust him. Just a little bit, but it was there. And despite the fact that he’d always considered himself a heartless bastard, he couldn’t help the tug of guilt that was getting stronger every day.

  He was going to leave. He was going to leave this place and leave Phoebe. Even now, as he raked up another oyster and dropped it into the basket, he was resolved to go.

  He couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up all he’d worked for to live the rest of his life working in a tiny café in the middle of nowhere.

  Oh, his dad would love that. His dad, who’d told him cooking was for “sissies” and thought he could beat the idea out of him. As if smacking Nick across the face would make him a “real man.”

  Nick had proved his father very wrong. He’d become a chef and had earned a reputation as one of the baddest boys in the industry.

  He laughed to himself. Maybe all those beatings his father gave him had been a good thing. By the time he finally moved out at seventeen, he’d developed a thick skin. And to succeed, Nick had certainly needed to be tough. If his father had taught him anything, it was the ability to be strong. To overcome anything.

  So why was he having such a hard time with the idea of leaving? He glanced back at Phoebe, who was still watching him. A vision flashed through his mind. Here, cooking what she produced and collecting food from the sea. It could be a good, simple life.

  And the thought made his heart pound with anxiety.

  He wasn’t meant for anything good or simple. He was meant to prove himself, every day. Prove he was a man.

  Prove his father wrong.

  And cooking vegan brunches in the middle of nowhere was not any part of that plan.

  Phoebe smiled at him. He smiled back. And he ignored the way his heart hurt because he knew he’d be leaving her.

  She’d be pissed, but she’d get over it. She was a strong woman. And if she didn’t get over it, well, he’d live with that. He was used to living with people hating him. She’d just be one more individual in the world who thought he was a prick.

  Well, according to what she said, she already did. He was just going to prove her right.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her dad still hadn’t come home from his day out with Sherry. Nick and Phoebe had gone to the beach. Which meant Jesse was alone.

  Lying on her bed, reading a biography of Julia Child, she tried not to even look at her computer. But it seemed to be calling to her.

  Jesse! it was saying. We have lots of culinary schools for you to research! New York, Madrid, Paris…Come check us out!

  “No,” she said aloud. Then she slammed the book shut and flopped onto her stomach. She was going crazy. Was she really talking out loud to her computer?

  Yeah, Jesse. You are.

  It was like torture. Why would she do that to herself? Going to culinary school was totally out of the question. For one thing, they were all off-the-hook expensive. And for another thing, she could not leave her father.

  Come to San Francisco; it’s not that far away!

  But that wasn’t where she wanted to go. She wanted out. She wanted totally different. Sure, San Francisco had a decent culinary school. But she wanted to go someplace totally unlike what she knew. Somewhere out of California, out of the entire country.

  She thought about Bear. He was living his dream, traveling the world. Every time he came back to town, she loved hearing his stories, especially since so many of them involved the local cuisine made from food he’d helped cultivate.

  But even while she envied Bear, she couldn’t quite forgive him for breaking his engagement to Phoebe. Her aunt had taken the news gracefully, but Jesse wasn’t so dense that she didn’t know it had affected her aunt more than Phoebe would ever admit, even to herself.

  Breaking the engagement had been hard on Phoebe, but they all understood that Bear would never be happy living a stationary existence here in Redbolt. And part of Jesse envied that he had the guts to pursue his dreams, living his life on his own terms. Even if it meant hurting those around him.

  Jesse wished she had the guts to do the same.

  So she pushed herself off the bed and headed toward her computer. Why was she opening her browser and typing in the web address to the school in Paris? She knew the address by heart now, and she reread the pages that she’d already read dozens of times before.

  The courses included stocks, sauces, forcemeats, and dough…mastery of “haute cuisine”…and what she really wanted to learn was the French language for gastronomy.

  She sighed. Julia Child went to France and came back one of the most renowned chefs in the world. Not that Jesse thought she was anything like Julia, but still. What an adventure it would be!

  She heard a car pull into the gravel driveway, and she immediately shut down her computer. Then she went to her bedroom window to see who had pulled up.

  It was her father and Sherry. Her dad bounded out the driver’s side of the car and jogged around to open Sherry’s door.

  Jesse put her hand to her mouth. Was that really her dad? He laughed at something Sherry said. And as she got out of the car, he held out his hand to take hers, helping her to her feet.

  She touched his shoulder. Sherry. Was touching. Her dad’s shoulder.

  And he didn’t seem to mind.

  Jesse’s first reaction was shock. She’d never seen a woman who wasn’t related to her father show affection. And she’d certainly
never seen her dad smile quite the way he was currently, not at any other woman.

  Her dad looked downright happy.

  Through the window, Jesse watched them come into the house. Her father shuffled along, his hands in his pockets. But there was no denying the fact that his expression was joyful. Content.

  Jesse hadn’t seen her father look truly content since before her mom died.

  Was it actually possible that her father was developing a crush on a woman who wasn’t Jesse’s mom?

  She went back to her bed and sat down. It was interesting, and normally nothing would have made Jesse happier than seeing her dad cheerful. But she couldn’t deny the fact that Sherry was here for only a little while. What happened when she left?

  If her dad really did develop feelings for this woman, what would happen then? When she went home?

  Her dad would be sad once again. And alone.

  Jesse pulled a dread out of her scarf and twisted it around her finger. It would be just one more reason that she could never leave this town.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Nick came back to shore, his basket was nearly overflowing with oysters. He was grinning, and his joy was infectious. Phoebe had to smile back at him. Her heart skipped when she saw the pure joy on his face. So rarely did she see him like this—she absorbed it like a sponge cake soaks in a cream sauce. And the feeling was just as delicious.

  She glanced at her own basket. She’d harvested a few oysters, but mainly she’d just ambled around the rocks. Instead of oysters, she’d found some gorgeous shells to add to her collection.

  “Wow.” She glanced at his basket. “You hit the jackpot.”

  “I know. Let’s fire up a few of these babies.”

  “What? Here?”

  “Of course, here.” He glanced around. “I’ll just find some driftwood that’s dry enough to burn.”

  “O-ok-kay.”

  It was as if he’d just noticed she was there. His gaze assessed her in one big sweep. “You’re freezing.”

  “N-no.” But she was. It was getting late, and even though it was foggy, the sun had provided a bit of warmth. Now, as it became darker, the cold was seeping into her bones.

  Dropping the basket, he came to her and wrapped her in a big hug. She couldn’t help it; she sank into his warmth. He rubbed her back with his big, strong hands. She buried her nose in his sweater, inhaling the scent of the sea and him. Nick. The ocean with all its pungent smells couldn’t take away from how she felt when she buried her nose into Nick’s body and smelled his own unique, spicy scent that turned her insides into a puddle of mush.

  “Let’s go home and get you warmed up.”

  “I thought you wanted to build a fire.”

  “I do, but not if you’re going to die of hypothermia.”

  “I’ll be fine once we get a fire going.” For some reason, she wasn’t ready to leave, even if she was shivering from the chilly air.

  Holding her shoulders, he pulled back and looked her in the eye. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Right. Okay, hang on.” He jogged off toward the Land Cruiser. After a while he came running back. His arms were full, and he nodded to his right. “Come on.”

  She was surprised when he led her to a grouping of rocks that circled a patch of sand. In the center of the rocks were the remains of many previous bonfires. She knew he’d never been to this beach before. He must have scoped the spot out when they’d first arrived.

  He sat her down and wrapped a wool blanket around her shoulders. “Just wait, I’ll have you warmed up in a few moments.”

  She could simply nod. Who knew Nick Avalon was such a Boy Scout? Determinedly, he went about gathering dry wood, and then returned with an armful and dropped the pile onto the sand.

  It didn’t take him long to get a nice fire going. Obviously, he’d done this before. One swift strike from a match and he had a burning ember going, which soon had the entire pile of wood blazing with heat.

  Phoebe held her hands out in front of the fire. “How did you become such an outdoorsman?”

  He shrugged. “I used to spend a lot of time outside when I was a kid.”

  “In England?”

  “Yeah. We lived near Portsmouth.”

  “Is that where you learned so much about the ocean? And building fires?”

  “I suppose.” He dumped the contents of her basket into a tan canvas bag and placed the now-empty wire container over the fire. Staring into the orange flames, he went on. “I’d do anything to get out of my house.”

  “Really? Why was that?”

  But he’d shut down—she could see it in his blue eyes. And by now, she knew better than to push him.

  “I just liked being outside.” He poured the majority of the oysters that he’d harvested into the canvas bag, but left a few in the basket. He then stacked the basket with the remaining oysters onto the one already placed in the fire.

  He stared down at her, and she could see the orange blaze reflected in his blue eyes. His demeanor had changed. Gone was the Boy Scout. Nick Avalon, sexy bad boy, was back. She saw it in the gleam in his eye, and the way he slanted her that wicked grin.

  “Now. Are you ready for something delicious?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Nick. I am.”

  He pulled a pair of tongs from his back pocket. “Then be a good girl for me. I want to feed you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I want to feed you.

  Such a simple statement, but it made her stomach quiver. When he spoke to her like that—those simple commands of his—it did funny things to her brain.

  She wanted to obey. She wanted to give in.

  She wanted to trust him. She wanted to so badly it hurt. But every ounce of what was left of her self-preservation was telling her not to.

  Still, she found herself walking to the edge. Ready to jump. Ready to let him catch her.

  “Here.” He extracted his flask from his pants pocket, untwisted the cap, and held the bottle out to her.

  She wasn’t much for tequila, but she took the flask anyway and brought it to her lips. The liquid burned its way down her throat and landed in her stomach. She shuddered.

  “That good, eh?” Nick said with a smile.

  She nodded. “I’m just not used to drinking anything but wine.”

  “Sometimes it’s good to mix things up.”

  Eyeing him, she said, “That is very true.” And she took another sip. A gulp, actually.

  “Slow down, killer. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

  She scoffed. “Right.”

  “Oh, you’re such a big drinker, are you?”

  “No. But that doesn’t mean a few sips of tequila are going to knock me out.” To prove her point, she took another. And shuddered once again as it flowed through her body.

  But she could already feel the effects of the alcohol.

  She licked her lips. “I like tequila.”

  “So do I,” he said, taking back his flask.

  He sipped from the bottle, and they both stared into the fire. She was warming up, and she wasn’t sure if it was the fire, the tequila, or the sexual energy pulsing between them.

  Eventually he took the tongs and poked around the pile of oysters cooking inside the basket. He glanced up at her. “Clasp your hands behind your back.”

  For about half a second, she thought about arguing with him. But really, what was the point? She knew damn well she wasn’t going to deny him anything.

  More to the point, she wasn’t going to deny herself anything.

  She moved to hold her hands at the base of her spine.

  The opened oyster in his hand, Nick brought it to her mouth and tilted the shell. She opened her lips and let the smooth oyster flesh slide into her mouth.

  “That’s a good girl. Swallow it down for me.”

  Swallow…She wanted to swallow more than an oyster. She wanted to feel his cock in her mouth and suck it until she could swallow his very es
sence.

  But for now, she obeyed and settled for an oyster.

  Of course, he’d cooked the oyster flesh perfectly. It was barely seared, and the taste of the fresh salty tissue needed no seasonings other than what the sea naturally had provided. It slid down her throat.

  Of course, she’d heard that oysters were an aphrodisiac. She happened to know that the idea was total folklore. However, she couldn’t disagree with the fact that there was something very sexy about the way Nick fed her. No, the lust coursing through her veins had nothing to do with the chemical effects of the seafood.

  Adrenaline raced in her blood, causing her heart to pound, and she felt little tremors rack her body. Because, as she’d been telling herself since the second she’d seen Nick Avalon walk into her café, he was dangerous. She’d been telling herself to stay away. To be the boss. To not succumb.

  So why was she sitting on a rock on the beach with her hands behind her back? Why was she letting him feed her scrumptious, fresh oysters?

  The answer was easy. She wanted to.

  She realized she not only wanted to give him more power in the café, but also more power over her. She liked it. It was fun. She liked him. She figured if she could take a chance and let the café be vulnerable to Nick, why couldn’t she do the same thing for herself?

  His gaze was fixated on her mouth, and she thought she should try to make this whole situation as normal as possible. Despite the fact that her hands were still clasped behind her, they were just eating, right? He was just feeding her?

  And yet it was so much more than that. Due to her position, her breasts jutted out. And they were warm and tingly. They were wanting, aching.

  She was getting used to his touch, and her body squirmed with the need to feel his hands on her.

  Looking up at him, she licked her lips, wanting him to know she was ready to be fed. Pressing her legs together in an attempt to tamper down her throbbing pussy, she watched Nick’s mouth as he ate.

  And as he ate, he watched her mouth. His blue eyes were dark in the dim light and sparkled as his gaze moved up to fix on hers. Her heart skipped. What was it about this man that could turn her to mush in a simple glance?