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“Are you regretting this?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I did what I thought I was supposed to. I don’t want to hurt anyone, nor do I want to hurt you.”
She rested her cheek against his hand. “You won’t hurt me.”
“I don’t know what this is.”
There was a hint of a smile on her lips. “I’m not some delicate woman, Jackson. This doesn’t have to be anything.”
“I like you. I like being with you, and I—”
“Like fucking me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, that I love doing.”
She glanced down at where they were still joined. “We made a bit of a mess.”
“Can we go somewhere to talk?”
“Would you like to come to my place?”
“I’d love to.”
He eased out of her, and took a handkerchief out of his pocket. He knelt between her thighs, and cleaned away his cum as it spilled from her lips. “Are you protected?”
“Yes, I am. I’m also clean. Are you?”
“Yes, of course. I would never do anything to harm you. I’m protected, and there hasn’t been anyone else since you.”
“For me either.” She pulled up her pants and buttoned her shirt. “Are you following me?”
“Yes. My car is parked just out front.”
She nodded, and together they left her restaurant.
He watched her locking it up. It was strange. He had been to her restaurant many times for business meetings, and just to catch up with friends. He’d loved everything about it. Looking at it now, he noticed it didn’t quite match Rebecca’s personality. She came from wealthy parents, who would want this kind of dream. This didn’t seem Rebecca’s dream.
“Your parents must be proud.”
She snorted. “Yeah, they are. They’re constantly bringing people here, and telling them what a wonderful chef I am.” She shrugged. “That’s what parents do though, right? Brag?”
He saw there was no real fire or passion in her eyes. “This is not your dream though.”
“Correct. This is not my dream, but I will never look a gift horse in the mouth. This was what my parents offered me, and it seems being a female chef is a pretty tough industry to crack. Not that I ever wanted to be a chef.” Again, she shrugged. “It’s a job at least.”
He didn’t like that.
When they had been cooking together over Christmas, there had been real spirit in her. She loved everything to do with the kitchen, and yet, the one place where cooking should be her entire world, it wasn’t.
He filed that thought away, knowing he’d deal with it at some point. He saw her to her car, and waited until she was set up before going to his own. He would always make sure women were safe.
Climbing into his own car, he followed her toward her apartment. There was plenty of parking, and he noticed how tired she seemed as he parked up behind her.
“This is me,” she said.
It was a nice apartment building.
“Is this what your parents wanted?” he asked.
