How does a newly graduated culinary student distinguish herself in a city full of experienced personal chefs? Rose Phelps cooks for her private clients in the nude. Her favorite client is sexy and successful Zack Cranston, a confirmed bachelor. The more he’s around Rose, the harder it is for Zack to resist her naked charms. Still, he figures all he needs is one night between the sheets with her and he’ll be over it.
Up till now, Rose has ignored his teasing advances; she’s dead set on keeping things all business between them. Then unexpected circumstances cause their emotional and personal boundaries to crumble. Will one night of smoking hot sex lead Zack and Rose to heartbreak and pain, or the possibility of a whole new future together?
Rose gasped and froze in place. What an odd sensation. It was almost as if he’d imprisoned her whole body, not just her finger. Heat crept upwards from her chest to her face. Finally she let her gaze lift to meet his.
“I liked that.” His voice was soft as butter, a whisper almost. The clean, pleasant smell of the scotch on his breath wafted to her. His pupils were huge and velvet black.
“I liked it when you were bossy with me just now.”
“Oh.” Something like pleasure curled in her belly.
“Are you always so sure about things, Rose?”
“Yes,” she lied. She forced herself to maintain eye contact, though her heart was absolutely hammering in her chest. “Please release my finger.”
For a moment he didn’t move. Then a grin spread over his lips.
“Okay, Rose. Whatever you say.” He nodded. “For now.” He opened his fist, letting her finger drop. Then he spun on his heel and headed for the bar.
Whoa. Since when had touching someone’s finger given him an instant hard on? As Zack replenished the scotch in his glass, he refused to turn and look at her. He needed to give her some time to rearrange that outraged expression on her beautiful face into one that didn’t spell the imminent demise of their relationship.
He’d crossed the line just now, yes. But could you blame a guy? She’d stuck that delectable digit right in his face.
To be honest, there were other delectable parts that he’d much rather have captured. Those parts are what had no doubt given him the erection. There were her lush red lips, which had been only inches away from his, not to mention her naked breasts swinging soft and full as she’d beaten the eggs. Oh how he longed to close his mouth around one of her firm pink nipples.
Setting the bottle down, he swirled the liquor against the edge of the glass and then turned around. She was carefully filling the ramekins with hot custard, pretending to ignore him. Fine. As long as she didn’t put on her coat and leave in a huff, he hadn’t totally blown it with her.
He let out a long, slow breath. Okay. He’d bide his time for now; he’d continue to play the game her way. After all, he did have a reputation for his nerves of steel, his cool control, even under the most severe pressure. He was confident that her reserve would thaw, contract or no, and he’d have her between the sheets. He’d seen the way her pupils dilated and heard the catch in her breath. Hell, her nipples were hard as buttons right now, and not because of a chill in the air. He’d bet his BMW she was just as turned on as he was.
Yeah, one hot night together. That’s all he needed. He’d fuck her till she couldn’t stand up. They’d part as friends. She’d be out of his system for good then.
But she’d also be out of his kitchen. That knowledge stabbed through him, then he laughed at himself. The city was full of personal chefs he could hire. God knows he didn’t really need a naked one.
Zack retreated to his favorite recliner in the living room and clicked on the television. From here, he only had to cant his head a few degrees to see what Rose was doing now. Something with lettuce and lemons. Then she turned to the wall oven and opened it to look in at the desserts, allowing him a perfect view of her curvy ass framed by the ties of the apron. His cock responded immediately. A whole new scenario began to play through his mind. Rose, bent forward over the island, her elegant pussy impaled from behind on his thrusting cock.
Zack flicked blindly through a dozen TV channels. What had ever made him think he could have a naked female parading around his home and not want to fuck her? Especially someone as luscious as Rose? What a crazy, unnatural idea.
And he couldn’t be the only one of her clients dealing with this problem. No doubt most, if not all, of Rose’s clients wanted to fuck her.
Had they all managed to maintain their distance?
Or had she let her guard down for some of them?
An unreasonable streak of something like jealousy twisted in his gut as he pictured another man beside her at the island right now, nibbling her ear, squeezing her breasts, sweeping aside her apron. Helpless, he watched as the Rose of his fantasy dropped her spoon and turned into the embrace of the other man. Her throaty moans pierced him clear through. The stranger took possession of her, laying her back on the counter, spreading those creamy white thighs wide open.
“Yes! Oh, yes!” Fantasy Rose cried, offering herself up like a delicious gourmet treat. When the make-believe man buried his face in Rose’s pussy, Zack leaped out of his chair and headed back out to the terrace.
The sun had set, throwing its colors onto the neighboring buildings and the lazy river that wound away in the distance. An evening breeze cooled his face. Some kind of small bird lit on the railing and then flitted away. Gradually, Zack came back to reality.
This simply wasn’t going to work.
He couldn’t wait any longer to have her.
He had thought he could, but this relentless pull toward Rose had become stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before. He turned and leaned back against the rail, staring through the glass of the sliding door. She was setting the table. A pair of tapers threw flickering light on the terrain of her face and body as she moved about the room.
An odd sense of yearning spiraled through him, the implications of it stunned him cold.
He wanted her in his bed, yes. God knows he’d wanted to fuck her since the first morning she’d appeared in that sweet little apron of hers.
But he wanted her there in his kitchen, too, setting his table. And he wanted her to look up at him and smile, and then stroll out onto the terrace with her own drink. He wanted her to stand beside him at the railing and watch as the sunset colors faded from the sky. He wanted her long, slim fingers intertwined with his.
Damn. Damn. He was so screwed.
One night with Rose, if she ever did give him the opportunity, wouldn’t be enough.