“And that you never squirted all over my line? Because I’m not sorry to say, you did hook up with your chef, and you definitely enjoyed it.”
Lexi’s face, already so heated from her orgasm, turns even redder. “I did not squirt—Ican’tsquirt?—”
I hold out a hand to her in offering. “What’s this then? Hate juice?”
Lexi lets out a frustrated squeal and shakes her head. “We are never talking about this again.”
And just like that, the spell is broken. She jumps up from the table, scrambling to find her underwear and pants, dressing in a flash.
Standing at my full height, I watch her try to put herself together, but that new life that’s shining in her eyes, that doesn’t say regret.
That says coming again real soon.
“You might not want to talk about it, but good luck not thinking about it, Boss.” I cross my arms over my chef jacket and smirk at her. “I, for one, am going to comerealfucking hard when I think about it in bed tonight. And when you’re ready to beg for my cock, I’ll be ready for you.”
TWELVE
LEXI
If I keep taking every possible route to avoid the kitchen, my step counter app might implode.
Hell, I might finally drop a few pounds.
Lord knows I haven’t gotten exercise like this in years.
But I can’t go in the kitchen anymore. Even if it costs me half my day in workarounds.
It’s bad enough Wilder is in there. Now every surface in there reminds me of what he did to me in there too.
The counter he ordered me to make a mess on.
The edge of the shelf that dug into my flesh as I came all over his face.
And I’ve yet to make eye contact with his knife without blushing.
I don’t care how many times he scrubbed those surfaces down to make them food safe, they’ve all been ruined forever for me.
Orgasms in general might be ruined for me after two nights ago.
Running the calendar with the next week of shifts on it down the stairs to the dual-purpose locker room and breakroom formy team, I should poke my head into the kitchen and announce it’s there.
I clutch the schedule sheet between both hands, wrinkling it beyond salvation, when his booming voice rebounds through the hallway, causing me to jump.
“I’ll restock her, Chef, keep prepping.”
My nipples react to it, like they listen tohimnow, not me who’s telling them to stand down.
I’m afraid if I see his face I might spontaneously combust into another orgasm, since that’s apparently what I do around him now.
No, sir.
Back pressed to the wall, I take deep breaths, chest rising and deflating as I remind myself of the plan.
He’s on shift today, so I won’t be going in the kitchen. Or the dining room, to be safe. I will be working in my office, upstairs, until he’s out of the building and I regain control of my own body once more.
Wilder makes it a lot harder to hate him the way I’m determined to when his head is buried in all my curves.
I’ve still got a restaurant to run even after he’s gone in two and a half months. Now is the time to stay focused.
