Chapter 6
SIX
I know the chef personally.
Professionally.
The words replayed in my head a hundred times causing me to squeeze my eyelids tightly.
My God, Kit.
Quietly, I chastised myself. Just as quickly, I remembered the tens of magazine covers and headlines detailing the heartbreak of the last woman Fohr had been involved with. The waste he left behind weekly revisited my thoughts as well, justifying my actions.
Ugh.
I tossed, kicking my left foot from underneath the cover. It didn’t matter the position, discomfort was at the forefront of my feelings. There was only one reason for the lack of sleep and it had little to do with the bedding, mattress, or room temperature.
Fohr.
Fohr McClarren.
He was the source of my deprivation. Even with the evidence piled against the man sleeping peacefully in his home, I remained restless. His silence was condemning. His deflated chest and the tilt of his head as he forged a smirk at the correction of his claim had shifted the atmosphere.
Suddenly, the air was stale. Dinner was less intriguing. My heartbeat slowed to a creep. Each breath became harder to obtain. The time dragged.
And, when it was finally over, I wished it had just begun. Wished I could retract that one word. Begin again. My intention was never to harm another human, and it was obvious I’d done so.
With haste, Fohr was up on his feet, demanding my plate. He disappeared as quickly as he’d came. Dishes collided with one another in the sink as he cleaned everything we’d used for dinner. Soundlessly, he strutted out of the kitchen in all his handsome glory, leaving me seated and still speechless.
The idea of chasing down those long legs to apologize plagued me. But, instead of following through, I remained still. Unmoving. Because, truthfully, there was nothing to apologize for. I’d been honest in my observation. He hadn’t been.
Fohr didn’t know me. We’d barely said much to each other since he showed up at my door. We hadn’t indulged in boundless conversations or told each other dark secrets that no one else knew about ourselves.
Greetings and goodbyes were all we’d mustered and all I could give because they were safe zones. One slip and I would be putty in his hands. I was self-aware and understood the power he possessed, even if he didn’t.
I tossed the comforter from my body and placed my feet in the fluffy slippers beside the bed.
The cream-colored silk gown flowed like lava down my body, clinging to the mature curves I’d began developing at a tender age.
Round, expansive breasts filled out the cleavage section that was trimmed in lace.
The robe to match slid onto my arms with ease.
I headed for the bedroom door as saliva pooled in the bottom of my mouth at the mere thought of the wine I’d placed in the fridge to chill.
The plan to open a fresh bottle after dinner as I admired the stars from the deck overlooking the hills of Huffington in the most beautiful city in the state, but it had quickly gone astray.
A warm shower, a good rub down with the body butter of choice, a few pages of my latest read, and sleep replaced the night gazing I had in mind. They’d all served me well, but sleep had evaded me since I closed the book and placed it on the nightstand.
Down the hall of the massive home, I patted my feet against the floor. Fohr had done exceptionally well for himself. His wealth would outlive him. He made astronomical amounts from the city of Channing. The money was too plentiful to spend every dime before taking his last breath.
Fohr.
I pulled the wine from the fridge, considering the reasons I’d taken the opportunity offered after declining so many times in a single night.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea. I admitted.
The villain I’d painted him out as in my head was a far cry from the man he was. And, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him to be the clit-sucking monster the media had promised he was after his breakup. It would make my time here much simpler. Much better. Much more predictable.
And, I wouldn’t be uncapping a bottle of wine trying to drown out his timeless features, chiseled body, and gentleness. He’d been raised well. It was apparent by how helpful he was around the house.
Another pleasant surprise.
Fohr was full of them. His dominance was so subtle, yet so commanding. He was passive in his ways, yet damning at once. There was something about him that made me want to listen… give him my undivided attention. He requested it every time he walked into a room. No words were necessary.
“God, that man is fine.” I sighed, picking up the glass of red wine I’d poured.
I placed the tip at my lips and allowed the contents to cool the temperature of my body. I was slowly becoming an inferno. Thoughts of Fohr were causing irreparable damage. If I didn’t get ahold of the fire, I would lose myself in the flames.
My days have never felt longer. Fohr turning out to be the perfect gentleman was a plot twist I hadn’t considered, and it was devastating to say the least.
Another sip from the glass assured me I’d need more soon.
So, instead of leaving the bottle on the counter, I brought it with me to the table.
Before sitting, I pulled the robe from my body and laid it on the chair next to the one I was headed for.
There was no use for it. I was boiling inside and it wasn’t because I was upset.
I was hardly ever upset. It wasn’t in my nature, quite honestly. The wild fire inside of me was solely due to Fohr. His beauty. His talent. His success. His personality. And, his persistence.
I finished the first glass of wine and refilled my cup.
The sweet, red liquid chilled my mouth as I took another sip.
I needed to forget the feeling that had surfaced between my thighs and hadn’t disappeared since Fohr showed up at my door.
I needed to forget the man who was responsible for it. He wasn’t for me. He was for everybody.
Yet, the thought didn’t keep my eyes from closing as images of his broad shoulders and chest rendered me speechless. The wine wasn’t serving its purpose by suppressing my urges. It was intensifying them.
The nerve of him. I breathed in and then pushed out a shaky breath with his hardened member at the center of my attention. I’d heard stories about the morning wood and even experienced it on a few occasions, but this was different. He was different.
It was thick and it was lengthy. It was hard and it was solid.
Swallowing the saliva at the sight of it was disappointing.
Swallowing it would’ve been more pleasurable.
But, I wasn’t the woman for that job. He had many others to fulfill that role, so I pulled myself together and prepared to do the job I’d been paid for. The job I was made for.
But what if–
“Umph.”
A lump of nothingness formed in my throat. I shoved it down as my hip grinded into the chair beneath me. Suddenly, the room was engulfed, too. Everything was hot to the touch, even the chilled wine in my glass.
If he–
My imagination consumed me, and I never made it past the foyer. In fact, I never made it past him.
His long arms reached out, pulling me inside by the fabric of my shirt. My back pressed against the door that he closed with my body. My clothes disappeared into thin air as he hoisted me up against the glass.
Instinctively, my legs brought him closer, wrapping around him simultaneously. His teeth sunk into the skin of my neck. My head fell backward, resting against the door behind me. Without warning, his manhood breached my waters, driving deeper out into my open sea where the waves were plentiful.
He managed well in the deep end, stroking me with rhythm and precision. My mouth slacked, giving him the perfect opportunity to dip his tongue inside. He explored my wetness. Up top and down below.
Just as my head began to spin and the waves began to crash up against my shore, threatening a tsunami, he ejected himself.
My feet touched the ground as he ushered my body toward the entryway console.
He placed my hands on top, sending the decorative items crashing to the floor.
He deepened the arch in my back with his palm and planted himself inside me, again.
“Ummm–”
My hips rotated in the chair. My bottom lip slipped into my mouth. I pushed out a long stream of air, hoping to settle my spiking temperature. There was no use.
“Uh hm.”
The clearing of a throat forced my eyes open. I flinched, unable to comprehend the sight before me. Wine spilled from my glass onto my slip gown, soiling the top. I could feel the fabric cling to my hardened nipples. My cheeks flattened with shame.
A shirtless Fohr stood a mere feet away from me. The ache between my legs intensified, creating a mind-numbing throb that formed a heartbeat. The rigidness between his legs reminded me why I was rotating my hips in the chair with closed eyes and muffled moans.
He was blessed and abundantly so. The jersey knit his pajamas were mostly comprised of showcased every inch. The thickness was intimidating and inviting at once.
Stillness kept me rooted in the seat at the table, unable to move. His pensive gaze deemed me speechless. I was a deer caught in headlights.
Suddenly, the wine simply wasn’t enough to quench my thirst. I needed water. Gallons. And, I was unsure if that would truly be enough to satisfy my need for hydration.
Fohr vanished into thin air. Upon the realization, I regained my mobility. The chill of the air reminded me that my breasts were on full display.
As I sat the glass of wine on the table and attempted to lift my body from the chair, I was pinned back down. Fohr’s expansive hand was against my chest and the other was clenched around a warm towel that he used to clean the wine from my gown.
Each stroke of his hand was a stroke of my clit. He toyed with me, heightening my sensitivity, and rewarding me with constant gratification. I stifled a moan, closing my eyes simultaneously.