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“Which is?”
“Your restaurant’s name. Have you given that more thought?”
She glanced around the bare space. The decision seemed like such a big deal that she had been mulling it over. But about twenty minutes ago, in the silence while she tended to her knives, an idea had formed. “I actually was thinking about that. What do you think of The Kitchen?”
Warmth touched Chase’s face. “Because your love for cooking came from the time you were with your mom in her kitchen?”
Not sure she could get words out, Harper nodded.
“Ah, beautiful,” he murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s a perfect name.”
She smiled.
He turned his attention to the knives on her table. “What are you doing with these?” He reached out to stroke the shiny blade.
Harper slapped his hand. “Don’t get handsy, buddy.”
Chase chuckled, pulling his arms away to cross them. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m dead serious.” She slid her finger carefully along the blade. “My knives are my babies. No one touches them but me.”
A pause. Then Chase’s voice lowered. “Are you telling me what I can’t touch, Harper?”
The hardness in his voice brought out her smile. She glanced into his eyes, unsurprised to see that sexy strength in his gaze that she was becoming more familiar with. A side of Chase that came out only so often, but one he obviously liked to indulge in, where he owned the show sexually. “I sure am,” she said, playing along with the game. “Does that make me a bad girl?”
“A very bad girl.” Though his mouth twitched, the intensity in his expression stole her breath. Leaving her there, he made quick work of locking the front door.
By the time he returned to her, his powerful stare on her, she sensed herself grow warm and wet. He stopped in front of her and offered his hand. She slid her fingers into his, feeling her nipples tighten, goose bumps rising on her flesh. Because experience told her when Chase looked at her like that, she would be a panting, satisfied mess by the time he was done with her.
Lost in his stare, she rose, her breathing increasing when he tucked his fingers into the flower-pattered scarf around her neck, slowly undoing the knot. Instead of continuing to undress her like she was expecting, he said, “Tell me to stop and we stop. All right?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
The side of his mouth arched before he stepped in behind her, and then she was staring at the wall. Until she saw nothing as he used the scarf to cover her eyes. While the scarf was not dark enough to block out light, she couldn’t see very well, making out only shadows around her.
He tied the knot at the back of her head, and she sensed him move in front of her again. His fingers grazed her belly when he reached for her white T-shirt, pulling it over her head. Her bra followed a moment later, the cool air brushing against her taut nipples. She inhaled sharply, her nose tickled by the dust in the air when he unbuttoned her coral cotton shorts to reveal her panties, pulling those down until she stepped out of them.
Silence surrounded her while he examined her naked, available flesh. She cocked her head slightly, listening carefully to the rustling in front of her. Soon, she realized he was undressing, and a crinkling sound told her he was sheathing himself in a condom.
Everything, from her head right down to her toes, pulsed in need.
She sensed him moving toward her and noticed the outline of his shadow before she felt his hand on her waist. Everything seemed to melt away beneath his touch. She closed her eyes under the blindfold, falling into where he wanted to take them.
His finger tickled up the front of her leg and then into the junction of her thighs, and he stroked her sensitive flesh. Slow at first, until his touch became more determined. But then it all changed. He went from slow touches to hard presses against her bundle of nerves, then to moving fast and returning back to slow a second later.
The rise and the fall of the pleasure left her panting. She whimpered and her hands fisted at her sides, the sensation confusing. Which only amplified when his tongue replaced his finger, and her knees weakened while he somehow mirrored the same movement his finger had traced. Sometimes, he would lick slowly as if to take the pleasure away. Other times, he would go hard and fast, bringing euphoria rapidly.
When she reached for his head, threading her hands into his hair to hold him to her, his mouth vanished. He placed a kiss on her thigh. “Grab your elbows behind your back. Do not let go.”
Desperate now, she did exactly what he told her to do. Blessedly, his tongue returned, continuing its assault, slowkly licking over her clit, flicking the bud back and forth, until he hardened his tongue, increasing the force. She sensed herself falling, the pleasure right there for her to take.
Coldness sank into her bones when he backed away.
She heard her desperate whimper when one finger slid inside her. Searching for a release, she bore down against his touch, grunting at the frustration of that finger not being his tongue that nearly sent her soaring.
With each passing minute, he moved his finger slowly in and out, not giving her the force or speed she needed to claim the orgasm that was right there waiting for her to take it. Her legs trembled, and her uncontrolled moans were stacked right on top of each other.
When a
