Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Draven drags me up against his side, pressing my face into his pec. “I don’t know why you look so thrilled, Pierre. We can’t have people fucking in the dining room.”
“You’re the one who made the incredible sauce!” Pierre crows, prodding Draven in the chest. “You were holding out on me. That sauce is going to get us a Michelin star. When did you finalize the recipe?”
“Last night,” Draven says through his teeth.
Hooting, Pierre gives me a leering once over. “She must be one hell of an inspiration.”
Every muscle stiffens in Draven’s body, and he pushes me behind him. “This is your final warning. You talk about Claire with anything less than respect again, I will make you wish you were never born. Do you hear me?”
“Why so protective of the dish washer—”
“She’s going to be my wife,” Draven growls.
Pierre does a double take.
As do I.
“What?” I whisper.
“What?” Pierre sputters. “You’ve known her for one day!”
“I know she’s mine,” Draven states with total confidence and authority. “And that’s not for you to question.” He points to the dining room. “Get this fucking mess under control before someone calls the police.”
“You’re the one who created such a seductive sauce,” Pierre points out, gesturing to the waitress who was now on her knees, blowing the stupefied busboy. “And come on, you can’t buy this kind of a publicity. Did you put drugs in it or something?”
“No, I didn’t put drugs in it,” Draven says, rolling his eyes at his brother, and drags me back into the kitchen. “I put the ultimate drug in it,” he mutters, just for me, his gaze softening on my face. “My fiancée.”
I swear, I’m floating. “You really caught me off guard with that one.”
“I’ll ask you properly later.” He pulls me to a stop in front of the stove where the pot of sauce is halfway gone. Looking at me closely, he frowns. “You’re going to say yes, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I am.”
Pride and relief go to war on his face and suddenly, I’m scooped up, giggling as my thighs wrap around Draven’s waist. Just before Draven kisses me, I notice Pierre watching me with narrow-eyed suspicion just over Draven’s shoulder. But then my fiancé's mouth is on mine and the kitchen is cheering while we groan into a celebratory kiss.
Pierre’s sharp watchfulness slips right out of my head.
For now.
Chapter Ten
Draven
Hours later, I’m not even halfway through dinner service yet and the sauce has almost run out. Customers have continued to pile into Tartine over the course of the day, and the phone is ringing off the hook with reservation requests. We’ve been forced to stop accepting to-go orders because the kitchen can’t handle them all at once. The restaurant has made more money today than it has in two weeks combined. All because of Claire’s mouth.
Just thinking about her eager, young tongue twining with mine has me pressing my wood up against the handle of the oven, allowing myself a couple of humps. I’m feverish, head to toe, needy for her body. I’m addicted to her. It’s an addiction I don’t want to break; I just want to indulge it now. Over and over again. All night. All day.
I stare down into the bottom of the pot where the remainder of the magical sauce simmers. I do not like that other people are tasting something that comes from her.
Not at all.
In fact, when I think about it too hard, I’m overcome with rage. Jealousy.
Her mouth is mine. No one else has the right to get this close to tasting it.
It’s mine.
My only saving grace is that no one knows she’s the unwitting mastermind behind the sauce that has the whole region in a frenzy. Otherwise, there would be no way I could continue to spoon the sauce over chicken. Or steak. Hell, people are coming in and simply ordering bowls of the stuff, drinking it down like water. We’ve finally managed to get the dining room under control, but last I heard, there were several couples getting busy in the parking lot.
I feel Claire at my elbow, and I turn to her eagerly, wrapping her in my arms and inhaling the fruity fragrance of her hair. “Hey,” I say, gruffly. God, I missed her and she was only standing a couple of yards away at the sink. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” she says sweetly, kissing my cheek.
“Today is your last day doing dishes,” I say, stroking my hands down her back, wishing we were alone so I could simply lift her up and tuck myself inside her extra-snug hole. Bounce her around on my cock. God, I need in. “My girl doesn’t wash dishes for a living.”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “What will I do instead?”
I consider her question. “Well, you’re not going to be a waitress or hostess, because I’ll be goddammed if customers are going to ogle my wife.” Turning her away from the rest of the kitchen staff’s regard, I give her ass a nice hard squeeze beneath her skirt, then I pet the sting away. “I think our only option is to teach you how to cook.”