Kiss the Cook

by D'Alessandro, Jacquie

Melanie's insides turned to goo. Objections? To making love with this incredible man? Did she have stupid stamped on her face? Her previous hesitation and reluctance had turned into impatient need and anticipation.

  But there was something she had to tell him first-- something he needed to know up front. Something she dreaded telling him, but it had to be done.

  Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, "I don't have any objections, but in the interest of full disclosure, I have to warn you, I'm no good at… well, at that."

  A frown appeared between his brows. "That?"

  "Sex." A self-conscious laugh escaped her. "I just thought you should know. If you want to change your mind, I completely understand." Please God, don't let him change his mind.

  He stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. "What the hell are you talking about? Why would you say something like that?"

  "Because it's true. My ex-fiance, Todd, said I was too uptight, too unimaginative, and basically kind of cold. Oh, and boring. At least that was his justification for sleeping with my best friend."

  Something flashed in his eyes. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Several seconds passed before he replied in a low voice, "We've already established that your ex-fiance was an ass. Surely no one else has ever said something like that to you."

  Melanie studied the scuffed toes of her Nikes. She might have experienced a more humiliating conversation in her life, but she couldn't recall it right now.

  He touched his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Melanie?"

  To her utter consternation, hot tears filled her eyes. The confusion in his eyes turned to a look of amazed understanding. "Are you telling me there hasn't been anyone else?"

  Melanie nodded, completely mortified. She never should have started this. Could humiliation be a cause of death? She hoped not, or she'd be buried in the ground in no time.

  "No. Not before Todd… and not since. He was the only one. I was a, uh, late bloomer. We went out for a long time, and were engaged for over a year, and well… there you have it.” Oh, well. She'd told him. Let the chips fall where they may.

  He studied her for several long seconds then gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Do you know what you need?"

  "A psychiatric consultation?"

  "Nope." A sexy, half smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. "You need a second opinion."

  Melanie’s throat slammed shut at the tenderness in his gaze. When she remained silent he continued, "Important matters always require a second opinion." He dropped a kiss on her nose. "Just call me Dr. Chris."

  Melanie bit her bottom lip. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you-- "

  "Don't," he said, cutting off her words with a fingertip to her lips. "I don't want to hear you say that." He cupped her face in his hands. "You and I are going to make beautiful love together. The only worry I have is that the waiting may kill me."

  Any lingering doubts she might have had vanished in a heartbeat when he kissed her-- a long, slow, deep kiss filled with unmistakable passion, desire, and longing.

  Resting his brow against hers, he said in a husky voice, "I want you so badly I can barely think straight." He leaned back and searched her eyes. "Do you want me?"

  Melanie knew if she said no, her nose would grow three feet a la Pinocchio.

  "Yes," she whispered, praying she wasn't about to set herself up for heartbreak-- but unable to resist. "I want you."

  "Thank God," he breathed against her lips. "Let's go."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  By the time Chris parked the Mercedes in front of his condo, he'd managed to get himself under control. Barely. Every time he thought of Melanie believing she was uptight, unimaginative, cold, and boring he wanted to kick that jerk Todd’s ass. Seriously, the guy made every other idiot in the world look like a genius. Melanie boring? She was the most fun, interesting woman he’d ever met-- he’d laughed more with her than with all his previous dates combined. And cold? Cripes, she was so hot she could start a fire in a fish tank-- even more so to him because she managed to be ridiculously sexy without being overt about it. There was no doubt in Chris's mind that he and Melanie would make beautiful love together.

  But first he was going to make damn sure he undid whatever damage Todd-the-jackass had done.

  When they arrived at the condo, he held her hand and led her inside. As soon as the door closed behind them, he took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep. He hadn't necessarily meant to fall on her the minute they arrived, but he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her.

  Luckily Melanie apparently suffered from the same problem. The instant their lips touched, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

  Chris slipped his tongue into her silky, warm mouth and moaned. No woman had ever tasted this good, this sweet. This right. It felt as if he’d waited forever for this, for her. And he couldn’t wait a second longer. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom, where he gently set her on her feet

  She looked up at him, her eyes glazed and droopy. "You’re a seriously great kisser," she said in a breathy voice that raised his blood pressure to a dangerous level.

  "Because of you," he murmured, running his hands up and down her back. "You have the most beautiful mouth. It inspires me." To prove his statement, he gently traced her full bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

  "And your neck," he continued, running his lips down the long, slim column, "makes me crazy. Especially here." He brushed his fingertips over the hollow at the base of her throat. "I can see your pulse beating." He laid her hand against his chest. "It's pounding almost as hard as mine."

  Their gazes locked. When Chris read the uncertainty in her eyes, he made a mental vow to banish that look forever. He had to show her how deeply she affected him. "Undress me." When she hesitated, he toed off his Reeboks and pulled off his socks. "I started. You finish."

  She swallowed. “I know I talk a good game, but the truth is it’s been a long time since I’ve been naked with anyone. And as crazy as it may sound, I’m really afraid I’m going to mess this up.”

  “Impossible. I want you so badly I’m actually shaking.” He whipped his shirt over his head then dropped the garment on the floor. "Touch me," he urged in a low voice. "Put your hands on me. Feel how much I want you.”

  Chris felt her momentary hesitance, but then she slid her hands up his chest, lightly grazing his nipples. A long, low, moan of pleasure escaped him.

  "Do you like that?" she asked, smoothing her hands over him again.

  "God, yes. Don't stop."

  He forced himself to remain still and watched her every move, sensing her confidence grow with every shudder her touch rippled through him. Each time he moaned, she grew less timid. He could almost hear her thinking, Maybe I'm not so bad at this after all.

  She continued her explorations, running her hands over his chest and back, and Chris found it more and more difficult to remain motionless. Everywhere she touched, his flesh burned. When she leaned down and kissed his chest, he swore softly, and when her tongue flicked over his nipple he growled low in his throat.

  He fisted his hands to keep them at his sides and gritted his teeth in an agony of anticipation when she unzipped his fly. Dipping her hands beneath his waistband, she lowered his shorts and boxers down his hips in one smooth motion. He kicked them off and stood before her, completely naked and painfully aroused.

  He watched her gaze wander over him. Desire flared in her eyes, and her cheeks flushed crimson. She stretched out her hand and brushed her fingertips over the tip of his arousal.

  His eyes slammed shut and he sucked in a harsh breath. Good thing this exercise in torture was helping her because it was absolutely killing him.

  She continued to explore, each stroke bolder than the last, each one pushing him closer to the end of his endurance. When she wrapped her fingers around his erection and gently squeezed, he was done.

  "No more," he managed to say, gr
abbing her wrist, "or this will be over before it's begun. And besides, it’s my turn.”

  Melanie wanted say something along the lines of okey-dokey, but it seemed she’d simply forgotten how to speak. The sight of Chris standing before her, naked, aroused, every muscle tense as he clearly fought to remain still while she explored his body had robbed her of words. He looked incredible-- like something straight out of an ad for Your Ultimate Fantasy Man. And the way he was looking at her… with enough heat to fry an egg and as if he wanted to devour her in one big bite. And the feel of him… warm skin over hard muscles that rippled with her every touch… it was enough to make a girl’s knees weak. And speaking of knees, hers were once again MIA. No surprise as that happened with alarming frequency when he was fully clothed. Naked? Buh-bye knees.

  He gripped the ends of her tank top, and since she wanted nothing more than to be rid of her pesky clothes that stood between her skin and his, she lifted her arms.

  "You're beautiful, Melanie," he murmured, trailing his fingertips over her breasts. A breath shuddered from her, and her nipples hardened into tight peaks at his feathery touch. Bending his head, he brushed his tongue over one distended peak, then the other.

  She gasped, and then her world turned into a blur of sensations as his hands and lips roamed over her, setting her skin on fire. She felt her rapid heartbeat everywhere. Behind her closed eyes. Thudding in her ears. Her stomach. Between her thighs. Impatience scraped at her, but clearly he was determined to seduce her slowly. By the time he slid her shorts and panties down her legs, she was ready to explode. Which is exactly what she did when he dropped to his knees in front of her, settled her thigh over his shoulder and ran his tongue over her wet folds. Her head dropped back and in an embarrassingly short time (like, oh, five seconds) an intense orgasm throbbed through her. Aftershocks were still shaking her when he scooped her up in a show of pure brawn that she’d definitely compliment him on as soon as she remembered how to speak English, and carried her the few feet to the bed. Determined to say something, if for no other reason than to assure herself she hadn’t gone mute, she cleared her throat and managed, “Thanks. I needed that.”

  The heated look he gave her surely could have melted bricks. “The pleasure was all mine.”

  “Actually, it was all mine. I definitely owe you one.”

  “Happy to be owed.” He set on the center of his bed and followed her down, lying on his side next to her. She looked into his eyes and her heart nearly stopped at the intensity of his gaze. No man, including the man she’d almost married, had ever looked at her like that. Like he would die if he didn't have her.

  Yet instead of pouncing on her-- which actually would have been fine with her-- he instead brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers one by one. When he lowered his mouth to hers, Melanie sighed his name and arched against him. While their lips and tongues played lazily, she reveled in the long-forgotten feel of a man's hands on her, and the unfamiliar, mind-blowing sensation of him arousing every inch of her. It had been so long since a man had touched her, and her ex’s idea of foreplay usually had consisted of thirty seconds of petting.

  Not so with this man.

  He lavished attention on every inch of her, starting with her lips then working his way slowly down her body, touching her everywhere, his incredibly talented fingers and mouth making her crazy, pushing her to the brink of another orgasm. Which just wasn’t fair.

  In a move that would have made any wrestling coach proud, she swiftly sat up and pinned Chris’s shoulders to the bed. Then she straddled him and shot him her sauciest grin. “My turn. Be prepared to get as good as you give.”

  She then made good on her words by slowly exploring his body with her hands and mouth, reveling in his deep groans, touching him everywhere except the one place she knew he ached most to be touched. When she sensed his anticipation had built to a crisis level, she ran her tongue up the length of his erection.

  A long moan escaped him, one that ended in a quick intake of breath when she drew him into her mouth. “That’s it,” he said in a harsh rasp, easing her back. “Can’t take anymore.” He snatched a condom from the bedside table and quickly sheathed himself. Then he rolled them until she was beneath him and he was settled between her splayed thighs. The most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen stared down at her, filled with a combination of fire and tenderness that stole her breath.

  Without taking his gaze off her, he entered her with one long, heartfelt stroke. He remained perfectly still for several heartbeats, his weight braced on his forearms, his hands tangled in her hair.

  And then he began to move, slowly at first, then more powerfully, watching her face, his expression intense. Melanie arched against him, running her hands over his back, down to his buttocks, urging him deeper. The force built inside her again, growing, growing, until she felt as if she were dynamite and he'd lit the match to detonate her.

  When the explosion came, she moaned his name, falling over the edge into a sensual oblivion that for an endless moment erased everything from her mind but the liquid throbbing of her body and the man inside her. She was still quivering when Chris groaned and thrust into her one last time, his big body shuddering, his face buried in her hair. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on tight, listening to him whisper her name over and over like a prayer.

  Chris wasn’t certain how much time passed before he gathered the strength to lift his head. When he did, he found himself looking down into languid, dreamy, chocolate eyes. Her mess of wild curls fanned over his pillow and a satisfied smile lurked around the corners of her kiss-swollen lips. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  Mine, a deep, primitive inner-man voice claimed. This woman is mine. He half expected to feel panic at the thought, but only deep contentment washed through him.

  And I am hers, continued his inner voice. Chris braced himself for bachelor panic, but none came. Again, only warmth and happiness flowed through him. I am hers, she is mine.

  God, that felt good. And right. Utterly, profoundly right. He wasn't quite sure how love had managed to sneak up on him, but it had. There was no point denying that he'd fallen, and fallen hard. Fallen? Hell, he was splattered all over the sidewalk. His bachelor days had sunk below the horizon like the setting sun.

  He shook his head in amazement. Done in by a set of big brown eyes, a tangle of curls, and the sweetest smile ever created. Not to mention the gentlest-- and most talented-- hands, and the kindest heart. All wrapped up in a gorgeous, sexy, adorable package.

  Just then, one of those gentle hands brushed his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her palm.

  "You were right," she said in a breathy voice that sparked interest in his recovering private parts.

  "Of course I was," he replied with exaggerated male smugness. "What was I right about?"

  "You said we'd have great sex." She closed her eyes and stretched like a contented cat. "We did."

  A frown tugged between his brows. Sex? Like hell. Irritation bubbled up inside him. He said nothing, just waited until she opened her eyes. When she did, he watched her expression grow wary as she read the discontent he knew showed on his face.

  "Oh," she said in a small voice. "Maybe the sex wasn't as good as I thought."

  "We need to get something straight right now, Melanie. I never said we would have great sex. I said we would make beautiful love together. And we did. What we just shared was not sex. We just made love. There's a big difference."

  Her eyes grew round; then to his chagrin, they filled with tears. His annoyance instantly evaporated, replaced by that panicky sensation only female tears could induce. Rolling them onto their sides, he gathered her into his arms and held her close.

  "Hey, don't cry. Really. Please don't cry."

  She sniffled against his chest. "I'm not crying."

  Wet tears dampened his skin and he groaned. "Don't do that, Melanie. Stop. I mean it. Tears kill me." He tried to pry her chin up, but she just burr
owed deeper into his chest and proceeded to “not cry” even more. Giving up, he patted her back and stroked her hair, alternately cursing himself for hurting her and praying she'd turn off the waterworks soon. He didn't know what the hell he'd said or done to bring on the flood, but he was damn sorry about it.

  Finally her sobs tapered off into juicy hiccups. When she finally lifted her tear-streaked face, he cupped her face in his hands.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Whatever I said or did to make you feel so bad, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean it."

  Her damp eyes widened, and to his amazement, she laughed.

  Utterly bewildered, he shook his head. "Now you're laughing? Women! If I live to be a hundred, I'll never understand them. Groaning in passion one minute, crying their eyes out the next, then laughing." He eyed her warily. "I think I know what made you groan. Care to fill me in on what made you cry and why you're laughing now?"

  She reached out and stroked his face, her eyes filled with tenderness. "You," she whispered. "You made me groan by the incredible way you touched me-- like I’ve never been touched before. You made me cry-- but they were happy tears. Emotional tears. Because of how you made me feel. So... wanted.

  "And you," she continued, "made me laugh because you were so sweet and concerned that you'd done something wrong, when you'd done everything so right. So wonderfully, totally, completely, perfectly right."

  Relief swept through him. He brushed back her tangled hair. "I have one request, okay?"

  She bumped her pelvis against his. "Only one? Bummer, dude.”

  He chuckled. "All right, maybe two. Hmmm. Maybe two dozen. But definitely one."

  Tickling her fingers over his butt, she whispered, "Your wish is my command."

  Chris sucked in a breath. "No more tears," he said, his concentration deteriorating at an alarming rate. "Next time you're happy, please smile. Don't cry."

  "That sounds simple enough. Is that your only request?" she asked, arching a single brow.

  "Absolutely not." He rolled them until she sat astride him. Fisting his hand in her hair, he dragged her head down and kissed her hard. "You ready for request number two?" he asked against her lips.