After the long day I’ve had, I don’t even have the strength to resist. I pick up my fork and plate and dive right in.
Damn, that’s good.
“And yes,” Wilder speaks up again, once my mouth is too full to fight back. “This is a dish I’d love to get on the menu. Not Your Mama’s Meatloaf.”
The grin he gives me is somewhere between knowing and threatening, and I roll my eyes at him and devour my plate, relishing in the warmth in my stomach that’s spreading out to the rest of me the more I eat.
Excited—if exhausted—chatter continues around us as we eat, but I only have eyes for my plate. Sooner than I’d like to admit, it’s empty.
“All right, gang. Go home, get some rest. Today was a big day, but it was just the first. Tomorrow we’re gonna do just as good with our normal shifts going in place.”
Charlie pumps his fist and a few others jeer excitedly, even though they all looked half-dead when I walked through the kitchen door not ten minutes ago.
“Even me?” Dishy asks.
Chef nods. “I’ll take care of what’s left. You should get some sleep.”
“You need sleep too, don’t ya?” he asks, punching Wilder in one massive shoulder.
Wilder’s mouth pulls up at one side and he gives a half-shake of his head. “I’m from the city that never sleeps, I’ll be fine. You’ve earned the night off.”
Wilder pulls the towel off of his side and whips it in the air at the servers as they race for the back door, and I hear honest-to-godgigglescoming from them.
It takes only seconds for the place to empty out.
Today’s only meal long gone, my plate empty (I even managed to lick it clean when I had my back to Wilder so he couldn’t get the satisfaction), I watch, feet glued to the floor for some reason as Wilder wipes down the line, till it’s good as new.
“Now,” he says, turning to face me, dark eyes glittering dangerously. “It’s time formymeal.”
ELEVEN
WILDER
“Your meal?” She echoes my words.
I give her a long, slow nod, my meaning clear as my eyes drag down her frame and I can’t help but lick my lips as I land on her thick thighs, and what’s waiting for me between them.
“I’m fucking starving.”
Lexi’s eyes dart to the line, practically inviting herself onto it. I take a step closer, one foot drawing into her orbit, until I feel her heat radiating.
“Have you been thinking about it too?” I ask, soaking in her reactions. “What it would be like to stretch out on my line here and let me eat you out until your legs shake and your soul leaves your body?”
“Fuck,” Lexi whispers, her teeth dragging on that full lower lip when she says the word, eyes glazing over.
Cleanliness at my workspace is a habit that was drilled into me back in the pen, and it’s done me good at every restaurant job I’ve had since. The stainless steel of my line glints from the LED lighting above, winking at her in invitation.
“I’m even crazier than I thought,” she mutters to herself, before taking a step closer to me.
Lexi finds new ways to say yes every time, and I’m starting to think she won’t ever use that one syllable with me unless I pull it out of her.
Something in my chest purrs at the look of need on her face, the lip between her teeth, the flush on her cheeks. “Aw,bella. If he isn’t driving you crazy, he isn’t doing it right.”
In a single stride, I have my hands banded around her waist and I pick her up, carrying her to the line and plopping her down on top of it. She spreads her thighs for me on contact, like a good boss, letting her chef eat after a long shift.
One of my hands cups her neck, thumb under her jawline, making sure she hears what I say next. “As your chef, it’s my responsibility to taste everything that goes out of this kitchen to make sure it’s perfect. And you’re the only thing in here I haven’t tasted yet.”
Those cherry lips pop open and her hazelnut eyes slam shut.
