by Amanda Usen
She’d kept her word, behaving with complete decorum on the line, although her slight smirk told him she was aware of her effect on him. Max, thankfully, was too busy hauling ass to razz him, and T-Bird kept his ears plugged into his iPod, his eyes on his cutting board, and his mouth shut. Since he and Jenna were the last two out every night, no one saw him drive her home…or kiss her on her front porch, which he couldn’t resist despite his best intentions. So far he was the only one being driven crazy by his plan to take it slow and teach her a lesson.
“Step away from the grill station,” she commanded.
“I think we need a few specials for our opening lunch.”
“Everything is special on a new menu.” She turned off the lights, took his hand, and dragged him away from the line. “Stick a fork in it, Ro. We’re done here. Enough is enough. Is everything locked up front?”
He nodded.
She pulled him out the side door into the afternoon sunlight. “Lock it.”
Bemused, he complied.
She led him down the street to his house and stopped next to his car. “Now drop me off at home and go get cleaned up. I promised my landlady and her daughter I’d cook for them tonight. We’re having a dinner party.”
He opened the door for her. “Not really my scene.”
“Don’t be an ass.” She slid into the car. “You’re bringing wine.”
He shut the door and walked around the car to get in beside her. A dinner party? She wanted to cook for him? Her offer kindled a long-dormant spark inside him. He hadn’t sat down for a non-restaurant dinner since the last time he’d visited her family.
Her sigh was long and loud. “I’m sure you’d rather go out drinking and dancing, but photographers catch you doing the darndest things, remember? Probably wouldn’t be good to get caught partying the night before your grand opening. Too much like counting chickens before they hatch.”
He’d been planning on working or sleeping if he could manage to power down, but she didn’t have to know that. “Red or white?”
She grinned. “White or a light red. I’m grilling chicken and fish.”
He couldn’t remember anyone looking at him with so much delight over something as simple as agreeing to come to dinner. Usually his women only smiled like that if there were shiny metals or stones involved. He reached over to take her hand. “Thank you for everything you’ve done this week.” She hadn’t just baked desserts. She’d helped out wherever needed, putting in as many hours as the rest of them, seemingly tireless and completely invested.
Her hand nestled in his. “It was fun. I’m amazed by how much you all got done in three days, and it gave me some insight into what needs to happen at Cooper’s.”
“I saw you taking notes.”
Her eyes turned molten. “Yep, it’s not every day you get to see Roman Gallagher in action.”
He grinned and leaned across the console, planning to press a quick kiss to her lips, but desire, swift and all-consuming, exploded the second his lips touched hers. He unbuckled his seat belt and hers, pulling her to meet him in the middle, fusing their mouths and devouring as much of her as he could reach until they ran out of breath.
He smoothed a wayward strand of hair away from her face, enjoying her dazed expression. Her pupils were wide, her lips slightly parted. She was waiting for him to kiss her again, and the anticipation bouncing back and forth between them was electric. He intentionally hadn’t taken things further between them this week, assuming she’d change her mind once she saw him in work mode for several days in a row. Nothing killed a fantasy crush like a good dose of reality, and he’d worked her like a dog. He’d half-expected to walk her up to her porch one night, lean in to kiss her, and catch a right hook to the jaw, but his plan had backfired. Apparently, she liked workaholics. So did he. He’d had no idea how exciting it would be to spend time with a woman who shared his passion for the restaurant business.
It was a hell of an aphrodisiac, but he had to get control.
She gasped, and he felt her soften, surrendering to his touch, and he fell into her, sharing her breath, exploring the connection between them. Her chef coat was open. She wore a white tank top, with a pink bra underneath. He couldn’t resist tracing the edge of the lace peeking above her neckline. Her sharp inhale lifted her breasts against his fingers, rousing primitive instincts. Pure and simple, he wanted her to make that noise again, so he slipped his hand under her shirt to cup her breast through her bra.
Her head fell back against the seat, encouraging him to press forward. He squeezed the soft weight of her. Dozens of images flashed through his mind, memories from the night on the beach mixed with things he would be doing to her right now, if they weren’t in a tiny car and covered in layers of restrictive clothing.
Control. Where was his control?
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him, holding nothing back. She murmured his name in a choked whisper and then gave him a smile so sweet it made his heart clench.
He pulled back, curbing his lust. None of the women he hooked up with were any more serious about dating than he was. But Jenna was different. She might claim to want something free and easy with him, but she didn’t have the protective emotional shell that his lovers wore as casually as they sported their glossy lipstick. She could get hurt.
This was Jenna. Cole’s little sister, and from a family he adored. A family who would hate him if he hurt her. The Coopers’ house was the one place where he’d always felt at home. No matter how insanely horny he was at the moment, he didn’t want to lose that connection. Not too much longer, and she’d be gone. He could hold back until then.
The reminder didn’t offer quite the relief he wanted, though.
Deliberately, he forced his tense muscles to unlock. He sat back. “Gotta say I regret buying a car with no backseat.”
A disgruntled sigh rumbled from her lungs. “Not half as much as I do.”
Tension built inside him as he put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. Her hand slid into his, and his pulse revved with the engine as he pulled into the street, making him acutely aware his control was slipping…and they weren’t going to be at work tonight.
…
Two hours later, Roman sat on a tall stool at the breakfast bar, watching Jenna move around the kitchen. She was wearing ripped jeans and a purple T-shirt that hugged her curves. Music and laughter filled the kitchen. Jenna had given everyone a job to do. He was cleaning green beans and advising her landlady’s seven-year-old daughter on the best way to wash lettuce for their salad. Devon had it under control but it was fun to offer bogus advice.
He caught her eye and winked. “Make sure you take the lid off the lettuce spinner while it’s moving. You get better centrifugal force that way.”
Devon grinned and made a move toward the spinner.
Jenna slammed her hand down on the lid and held it in place. “Not helpful.”
“Spirit crusher.” He grinned at the little girl, who held out her fist for a bump. “We’ll do something fun with the green beans, I promise.”
Jenna tugged the bowl of greens beans away from him and pointed at her cutting board. “Bell pepper confetti, please. Is that fun enough for you?”
He sighed and patted her on the shoulder. “It’s a start.”
The pat on the shoulder was just an excuse to touch her. Her hair was still damp from her shower and up in a loose twist. Golden ringlets fell around her face, making him want to tug on them. Every time she passed, he got a whiff of shampoo and had to fight the urge to bury his face in her hair and press his lips against her neck. He restrained his instincts and abandoned himself to the good mood dominating their little party. Jenna’s landlady, Barb, was hilarious, a Porsche saleswoman who had great sales stories and even better failed-sales stories.
After dinner, her boyfriend showed up to take Barb and Devon out for ice cream. “Why don’t you two enjoy the hot tub while we’re gone?” Barb suggested.
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br /> A zing of alarm shot through him. “I didn’t bring a suit.” The thought of being in a hot tub with Jenna made his pulse pound with anticipation.
“Don’t let that stop you.” Barb shot him a saucy wink.
Roman jerked in surprise and looked at the seven-year-old Devon, who rolled her eyes. “Check the closet. There’s piles of them.” The cheerful trio headed out the door.
Without a chaperone, Roman knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. He stared at Jenna. She grinned and thrust a pile of swim trunks into his arms. Visions of everything that could be done in a hot tub under cover of water and darkness swam through his mind.
Make an excuse and leave. Now.
Damn. He couldn’t do it.
He found the bathroom and slid into a pair of trunks, shaking his head. Jenna had probably planned to get him in the hot tub all along. His suspicions were confirmed when he met her in the hall and saw what she was wearing. “That’s not a bathing suit. That’s walking indecent exposure. There is no way you can swim in that thing.” Three triangles of bright green material were strategically held together by—good God, was the entire thing made of yarn? Would it unravel in the water?
“Nope. I wouldn’t even try. The woman who sold it to me said it looked fantastic lying next to the pool. I don’t think she meant on a body, either.”
Stunned by that image, he followed her toward the sound of churning bubbles, unable to take his eyes off the sweet lower curve of her bare ass. Mercifully, she got into the water immediately, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. He paused, ready to hand her a towel from the pile next to the tub if her suit came apart.
“Are you going to get in or are you just going to stand there?”
Her teasing words galvanized him, and he stepped down into the hot tub, hissing at the heat of the water.
“I know, right? It’s the perfect temperature to melt away the stress. I had no idea I was so tense.” She peered at him out of one eye, making him chuckle.
“Is that a request for a back rub?”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “Well, you do owe me one, but I’d never be so forward.”
Roman shook his head and grinned, already feeling loose from the heat. He sensed his inhibitions slipping away. Eventually, he was going to have to conquer the urge to rip her suit off, crawl inside her body, and turn them both inside out, but for now he could handle the temptation. He beckoned to her and she scooted toward him.
He settled her floating body one step below his. The hot tub was large enough to fit four, so they had plenty of room, and whoever had designed it must have had a dirty mind because the various levels were perfect for the first three sexual positions that popped into his head. He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, unable to prevent a small sound of enjoyment at the feel of her strong muscles and delicate bones. She sighed as his hands drifted slowly down her arms. “You’re good at this.”
In response, he dug his thumb into a tight spot just beneath her shoulder blade. Her moan traveled straight to his cock. “Do that again,” she begged.
As if he could resist.
The water made her skin slick, smooth, and hot. The suit, what little there was of it, gave him complete access to her shoulders, and he explored her back, finding all her trigger points and sore spots and working on them with gentle but determined pressure until she sighed, her body drifting limp and lax in front of him. If she had been laid out on a bed, he would have given the same treatment to her lower back. He knew from experience how much strain just standing all day could cause. However, given how much of her ass was exposed by the skimpy suit, it was probably best he kept his hands above her waist. His hands moved slower and slower, more caress than massage.
“I’m floating, right?” She sounded drowsy. “I feel like I’m floating up to the sky.”
He clasped his arms around her waist. “I’ll hold you down.”
Her head fell against his shoulder. He shifted so that she was sitting on his lap instead of resting between his thighs. Her hand came to rest on his chest. Her eyes opened and she gazed at him with so much warmth, he bent his head to kiss her. Gently at first, but when she welcomed him, he dove deep, opening her lips with his.
She tasted like wine, and cinnamon from the cookies she had made for dessert, a heady combination. Thought became instinct and he sought ways to bring them closer together. He focused on their connection and everything he could learn from the movement of her mouth on his. She was so responsive, so perfect. He grew hotter, harder, and needier. She was meant to be his. His hips rocked forward, meeting hers, and he realized she’d shifted to straddle him in the water.
“Whoa,” he groaned against her lips. “Slow down.”
“Dry humping is allowed, remember?” Her lips roved over his. Every flash of her tongue set him on fire.
“This isn’t dry humping. This is barely clothed almost-fucking in a backyard hot tub, and we are very wet.” He hoped his raw language would shock her enough to loosen her hold on him because he was about to lose it. No such hope. She wiggled closer, fitting his hard cock into the notch of her thighs, leaving him in no doubt of exactly how well they would fit together.
“I know I’m wet,” she whispered into his mouth.
He groaned, imagining what it would be like to slide inside her body right now. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she held on to his shoulders. It would be so easy to make a few adjustments to their suits and give her what they both wanted. The temptation was brutal, paralyzing, and mind-bending. He felt himself weaken, already shifting, his hands moving toward her waist before a thought struck him like a hammer.
No condom.
The thought didn’t kill his erection, but it did return a measure of his sanity.
“You promised to go at my pace,” he panted, desperately trying to convince himself his pace didn’t include traipsing wet into the house to fish a condom out of his wallet. “It’s late. Barb and Devon will be home soon. Um…”
“You’re not Cinderella, and Barb and Devon will make plenty of noise if they come home, trust me. I’m starting to think you’re stringing me along for cheap labor and a dessert for Las Vegas.”
“And you’re using me for cheap sex and a quick fix for Cooper’s.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “That was the deal. I’m holding up my end of the bargain.”
Busted. He’d made a promise, and she thought he was going to keep it. His heart pounded, forcing more blood into his still-hard cock nestled between her thighs. It had been almost a week, and she hadn’t changed her mind. He wasn’t going to get out of this gracefully without doing something. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t want to get out of it at all. There would be consequences, but he was tired of denying them both. He lifted her up in the water and twisted her to the side, laying her body across his lap. He glanced around the fenced-in backyard, checking for nosy neighbors.
“We don’t have a condom, but I have an idea you might like.” He caught her gaze as his hand caressed her shoulder, slid over her breast, cupped the slight swell of her belly, then inched beneath the triangle of knitted fabric that covered her crotch.
She made a strangled noise as he slipped his middle finger into her folds. The breath rushed out of her lungs. He moved his fingers, exploring, discovering she was silky smooth. He was dying to see the thin line of pubic hair he could feel against his palm, but his imagination would have to do. She arched her hips toward his hand, beginning to float, so he held her beneath the surface, sliding one finger inside her, finding she was hotter than the water around them.
He watched her eyes glaze and her mouth fall softly open. She licked her lips, and he leaned forward to lick them, too. Their tongues tangled, and he moved his fingers inside her in the same rhythm. She kept time with soft moans in the back of her throat. What sounds would she make with more of him inside her, pushing her harder, faster? He pulled back, watching her eyes as he discover
ed the secrets of her body.
He curled his finger to rub the pebbled band of flesh just inside her opening, feeling her swell beneath his hand. Her hips pumped, responsive to his touch. “Have you ever imagined us doing something like this?”
“Too many times to count.” Her hoarse whisper made him harder. He thrust against her, feeling her body clench around his fingers. She cried out as his fingers coasted over her clit, and he concentrated on the bundle of nerves, circling then flicking, seeking a rhythm to drive her wild. She tensed, arms tight bands around his shoulders, thighs hard against his as she strained, reaching for her peak. He moved his fingers faster, harder, and she broke with a soft cry.
Her abandoned response urged him on. He wanted to give her this—to please her.
He thrust two fingers inside her to keep her going, riding the path to her G-spot while his thumb coasted over her clit, wanting to do the same thing with his cock. She thrashed back and forth in the water as she cried out again, and he had a split second of fear that her frenzied response would drive him over the edge with her. He tried to think of something other than Jenna and couldn’t. Her cheeks were pink, and her hair had fallen out of its twist. Every time she took a breath, her body pulsed around his fingers.
Suddenly, she sat up, closing her thighs, trapping his hand. “Turnabout’s fair play. Your turn.” She reached between them.