Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“A chef who won’t taste her own food?” Michael asked, that teasing growl still in his voice. He wrapped his arm around my waist, dragging me up against his body, and I whimpered.
That gave him the opening he needed and he popped the bite of pie into my mouth.
“Maybe it’s poisoned,” I managed around the mouthful.
We were still pressed together, and oh God, his body was firm and broad and unyielding. I wanted to spread my legs and beg him, I wanted to rip his clothes off, I wanted…
Michael’s gaze darted down to my lips as I chewed and swallowed, his eyes wide and dark. His gaze didn’t leave, even as the seconds dragged on and I finished my bite.
Dammit, I knew it was probably wrong and it was definitely a huge risk but I couldn’t help myself. I had to try. I’d wanted to kiss Michael since I understood what French kissing was, for fuck’s sake. This was my chance.
I licked my lips, nice and slow so that he was sure to see, then got up onto my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. I slid my hands up his arms to his shoulders for balance, squeezing slightly, shivering as his arm tightened around my waist.
Michael was as still as a statue, unmoving.
Fuck, I had gone this far. Might as well.
I pressed my lips to his.
For a second, it really was like kissing a statue, as Michael stood frozen—but then, then he groaned and tilted his head as his free hand came up to tangle in my hair and take control of the kiss and oh, oh, yes.
It was all I’d ever thought it would be. No, it was even more than that. Nothing I imagined could live up to the reality of Michael kissing me hard and hot, possessive, his tongue sliding in and out of my mouth and flicking against my lip like he owned me, like he wanted to make sure I never wanted to kiss anyone else as long as I lived.
He kissed me, no, devoured me, until my knees buckled and I was whimpering helplessly against his lips, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. I was so wet, I was squirming with it, and Michael shoved his thigh between my legs. I started rolling my hips and gasped as sparks danced up my spine.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Michael growled, his teeth scraping over my jaw as he tugged on my hair to tilt my head back, exposing my neck to his mouth. “Fucking yourself on my thigh, so wet already. Such a dirty, naughty little girl.”
“Ju-just for you,” I promised, my hips thrusting frantically to chase my high as Michael stepped forward, making me stumble back a bit. His mouth was sucking at my neck, his stubble scraping against my soft skin and I thought I might actually orgasm on the spot.
I grabbed his hand and shoved it up my skirt, his fingers brushing against my underwear, feeling how slick I was, how much I wanted him—
Michael jerked back like he’d been burned and I nearly fell to the ground.
His hands moved to my hips, steadying me, both of us breathing hard.
Michael shook his head. “That - no. This shouldn’t - Stevie this can’t happen. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“What?” I felt dizzy, like I’d gone through whiplash. One moment he was talking dirty to me and getting me off against his thigh and kissing down my neck, the next he was stepping away and saying we shouldn’t be doing this? What the fuck?
Michael shook his head. “That was - I’m sorry. That was unprofessional. I’ll…”
He let go of my hips and took a proper step back. “Go ahead and change the menu. You’ve proven your point. And I’ll…see you tonight.”
He gave me a curt nod and then turned on his heel, striding out the front door.
I sank back against the table.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Okay, okay, okay, sure. He was worried about being unprofessional. I could get that. Understandable. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. I’d just have to be patient and persistent.
Step one was complete as far as the restaurant went, anyway. I was going to get to change the menu, and I had to get started right away. That should distract me today and keep me from thinking too hard about the kiss.
The mind blowing, heart-stopping, panty-wetting kiss.
Once I got this menu changed and everyone saw how good the food was, customers would come back. They’d fill the restaurant again.
I just needed to follow my plan, my carefully thought-out plan. I’d done it all for a reason, and if I just stuck to my guns, I’d get exactly what I wanted and I’d show Michael that I was perfect for him, in both the kitchen and the bedroom.