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I let my lips linger close to hers. Our breath mingled for a moment—the air smelled like Jack Daniels and possibility. She closed her eyes and in that instant I knew she was mine.
Then I pulled away.
“I need help making dinner,” I said. “That’s what I want for winning the game.”
She was absolutely adorable as she gawked at me. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m making chicken parm,” I said while putting my pool stick away. “It’ll go faster with two people. You can be my sous chef. But Iwillmake another drink for the road. Want one?”
She made no effort to leave the pool table. “How long are we going to do this?”
“Make dinner?” I said, playing dumb. “As long as we have access to the kitchen. And the liquor cabinet.” I hefted the bottle of Jack and made two more drinks.
“Is that how this is going to go?” she asked, eyes narrowing. Her cheeks were still flushed and sweat was beading at her temple. “Pretending like you don’t knowexactlywhat you’re doing?”
I cracked open a bottle of Coke, emptied it into both glasses, and then fixed her with a look. “You mean like thinking you’re reaching through the doorway and kneadingpasta dough?”I didn’t wait for a response. “Come on, let’s head down to the kitchen. I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“You didn’teatenough already?”
“Oh, I did,” I said with a grin. “But I can always go for seconds.”
Finally she slid off the table and shimmied into her pink panties. I caught a glimpse of her bare ass cheek as she did so, a round globe that made my cock ache for her, but then she lowered her dress and the view was gone.
“I don’t want to eat on the balcony tonight,” she said.
“You want another candlelight dinner? That can be arranged.”
“No,” she said while taking her drink from me. “I have something special planned.”
24
Molly
The Day With The New View
We were in the kitchen making dinner. Donovan was prepping the veggies while I flattened the chicken breasts with a meat mallet.
“That’s right,” Donovan said lustily while mixing the coating ingredients in a bowl. “Give that meat apounding.”
“Oh,nowyou want to be dirty?” I teased. “Not earlier when I was on the pool table, ready to go?”
“Who’s being dirty?” he replied in a deep, overly-sexual voice. “I’m giving you instructions on what to do with mymeat. I like how you’re beating it. You’re really going to town on it.”
I pinched some flour from the bowl and tossed it at his face. His rumbling laughter filled the kitchen.
Days ago, Donovan claimed to have the willpower of a saint. I didn’t realize just how true that was until he went down on me in the lounge. Afterwards I was as wet as could be and ready to go. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me. I spread my legs and felt his cock just inches from me. It was impossible to ignore, a thick bulge inside his jeans that was brimming with potential.
I was ready. Iwantedhim. And I knew he wanted me too.
Yet he smiled at me and walked away. Just like on the balcony.
Donovan’s comment about appetizers and leaving people wanting more? It wasn’t just a stupid metaphor. It was the truth. Because right now, while we were making dinner, my bodyachedfor him. I wanted him so badly I could barely stand next to him.
And it infuriated me that his tactic worked.
But I didn’t want him to know that. I wanted to play it cool. So I teased him, and laughed, and eye-banged him while we made dinner. He knew his way around the hotel kitchen like he had worked there for years. I enjoyed watching him, too. There was nothing sexier than a man who was totally in his element.
He coated the chicken breasts in an egg bath, then the flour mixture, then grilled them in a pan. When the food was done I grabbed a bottle of wine from the pantry and we carried the plates out of the kitchen and toward the elevator.
