I thought about her question. I really took each layer into consideration. This was a large undertaking. A full day of prep. Another full day of cooking. Press. Marketing. My name wouldbe tied to the event and every mention of it. I also knew how big of a deal it would be for Alivia.
But the menu was only half the battle.
The cooking was an entirely different beast. Everything mattered. Every step, every detail, every ingredient.
“I’m going to do it,” I told her. “But the condition still applies, and that’s only if you do it with me.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I would love nothing more.”
“Are you sure about that? And are you sure you’re up for it?” I brushed several pieces of hair off her face, small ones that had fallen from the knot she’d woven on top of her head. “I’m not the nicest guy in the kitchen.”
“You were the sweetest, kindest gentleman tonight.” She smiled.
“Tonight was an exception.” I held her waist, pulling her into me, rubbing my hard-on against her. “Don’t get used to it.”
“It’s a good thing I kinda like the dick-ish side of you. You just have to make me one promise.”
“What’s that?”
“There won’t be any screaming.”
I grazed my nose over hers. “I promise.”
“Then, yes, I’m absolutely up for it.”
“Good.”
I kissed her. But I didn’t just press my lips against hers. I fucking ravished her mouth, and when I knew I was on the verge of wanting more, I tore my lips away.
“Mmm.” The sigh rumbled in my throat. “I love how you taste.”
There were so many parts of her I wanted to touch. Her face—because of the way she was smiling. I wanted to feel that grin under my goddamn fingertips. Her neck—the skin there was so delicate and pure, and I couldn’t get enough. Her curves, which had been coming in a little stronger and more defined. When I wasn’t grasping them during the moments we were alone, I was fucking dreaming about them.
Ultimately, the curves won.
I slid my palms to her lower back, rounding across each hip, covering the delicious arches where they dipped toward her ass.
And that fucking ass.
“Alivia …” My mouth was on her neck, moving up her jaw, and to the spot just behind her earlobe. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me?”
She cupped my dick over my pants. “You should feel how wet you’ve made me.”
“Show me.”
Her fingers didn’t leave. She kept them there, rubbing, rounding her thumb over my tip. “Before I do that … I want to do this.” She was undoing my button, tugging on my zipper, getting both to the point where she could lower my pants to my ankles, bringing my boxer briefs along for the ride.
I turned, pushing my back into the edge of the counter as she got on her knees. She kept eye contact as she moved into position, her nails dragging up and down the outside of my thighs. There was hunger in that stare. And tonight, it was the darkest I’d ever seen.
She took my tip into her mouth. Just that small amount of heat, mixed with a quick flick of her tongue, and I was already aching for more.
“Fuck yes,” I hissed.
I held both sides of her face. I needed the control. I needed to guide her actions. I needed to know the exact moment that my crown was going to hit the back of her throat.
And it was so fucking hot to watch. The way her lipsswelled around me. The way her cheeks caved in from suction. The way her eyes stayed locked with mine.
She wanted to please me.
