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“That’s for the lunch menu,” Ezra said proudly. “I wanted something carb heavy but still light enough that diners won’t be too full to indulge in some of Brie’s desserts.”
Next to him, Brie’s cheeks turned pink, and Ezra offered her a small—but proud—secretive sort of smile. I could practically see the stars in her eyes over the interaction.
While Ezra moved around to set another offering in front of us, I wondered why I couldn’t find myself attracted to someone sweet and quiet, more like Brie instead of her sexy and infuriating older sister.
Because you’d be bored out of your mind.
Right. There was that.
I dug into the next course, the meat and potatoes dish Ezra had plated right after I walked in, pleasantly surprised to discover thinly sliced and circle-shaped pork chops. On the side, he’d plated a helping of Brussels sprouts, coated in oil and baked to the perfect finish, the edges of the leaves crispy and dark brown while the center was somehow both fresh and tender. The small diced and fried pieces of prosciutto added a nice saltiness to the dish.
Plate after plate passed in front of me, and I ate my fill of every single one. Ezra had truly outdone himself with this menu, the flavor profiles somehow simple yet complex, the ingredients fresh, the meals familiar but elevated to a luxuriousness people would expect from a high-end winery like ours.
And the whole time, Amara continued to make those sounds, driving me absolutely wild.
Ezra and Brie gave us a brief moment between the last meal course and the first dessert sample to collect ourselves. I leaned back on my stool, stretching my arms over my head and trying to figure out how I was going to fit anything else in my stomach.
But when Brie set a dish of some custard-like substance in front of me and wielded a miniature blowtorch with a wicked gleam in her eyes, I knew I’d eat every last bit of her creme brûlée. Next to those cheese danishes she made, the creme brûlée was my favorite of her desserts.
Once the sugar topping was heated and hardened, and Brie had sprayed her chai whipped cream on top, I dove in, sighing happily as the sweetness melted on my tongue.
Then, unable to stop myself, I turned to Amara and awaited her reaction. Surely sensing my gaze, Amara slowly dipped the tip of her spoon in the dish and brought it to her mouth, her tongue darting out for a taste before she closed her mouth around the utensil, tongue swirling around to collect every last morsel. Once again, that low moan left her throat, and my cock hardened completely.
The rest of the dessert course was the purest form of torture as I stuffed myself with Brie’s decadent concoctions and listened to Amara unabashedly have a foodgasm next to me.
Without thinking, I reached out and closed my palm around her thigh, hoping the pressure of my fingers against her skin would shock her into silence.
Her eyes flew open, gaze darting back and forth between my hand and my eyes.
“What are you doing?” she murmured, shooting a semi-panicked glance at her sister and Ezra. Both of them had their backs to us, chatting in low voices as Brie stirred something on the stove. They weren’t paying us a lick of attention, which emboldened me further.
“You’re making me crazy,” I said, slowly arcing my pinky across her skin, sliding my palm higher as I did.
“Get your hand off me.”
“Why?” I whispered back. “Afraid I’ll find out how wet you are for me?”
Amara’s chest rose and fell, those ample breasts heaving in time with her breaths, and she swallowed hard.
I had her, and we both knew it.
I don’t know what I expected from her, but she surprised me yet again when she threw my hand off her leg, rose from the stool and, with a rushed goodbye and weak excuses about why she needed to leaveright nowto Brie and Ezra, stormed from the kitchen.
“What the hell just happened?” Brie asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, tossing my napkin down and standing. “I’ll find her.”
Brie looked like she wanted to argue, but after a brief moment of hesitation, she simply nodded.
As close to permission as I’d ever get from anyone in her family.
Because right now, I was painfully turned on, and I was finally ready to do something about it.
How fuckingdarehe?
I fumed as I stalked back through the buildings toward my office. It was late—well after six—and everyone had cleared out for the day. Good for me, since it meant no one was around to witness my Godzilla-esque stomp down the halls.
I’d just thrown myself into my chair, shaking with rage, when my office door burst open and Calvin appeared.
