Chapter 52
Harper
He’s looking at me like a man who’s lost everything at sea, and I’m the only piece of wreckage left to cling to.
His blue eyes turn almost black with the intensity of what he’s feeling.
And he asked me not to leave. He wants me to stay with him. I’ve never known him to be this…open about what he wants. This vulnerable.
Everything he’s feeling seems to be reflected in his eyes.
My heart squeezes in my chest, then begins to beat fast. My pulse does a somersault.
All this time, I’ve waited for him to look at me…
to really look at me. To notice me as being more than his sous chef, more than the woman he married to secure his investment and his inheritance.
And now, he’s doing so, and my heart feels like it’s going to cleave through my chest.
The touch of his hand on mine sends shivers of delight racing up my arm. My entire body feels like it’s on fire. I can’t even feel the cold of the walk-in refrigerator anymore.
Surrounded by duck carcasses on hooks, trays of fish on ice, as well as pans of veal stock and purées in squeeze bottles, I sway toward him.
He circles his arm around my waist securing me to him. His big chest rises and falls; the pulse at the base of his throat beats steadily. His color has come back to his face; his gaze is intense, but there’s also a softness around his eyes.
The air between us spikes with awareness. A nervous hum zips under my skin tightening my nipples and drying my mouth. I lick my lips, and he lowers his gaze.
He’s going to kiss me.
I want him to kiss me.
I raise my chin, he lowers his. Our breaths mingle; our scents dance with each other.
Then he brushes his mouth over mine. Soft.
Gentle. So very sweet. All the yearning trapped inside, the pent-up longing over years when I was sure I’d never see him again, when I wondered how he could walk away from me…
And then, the anger at his turning out to be a tyrannical boss who ignored me…
All of that falls away. It’s just me and the man who’s occupied my dreams for so long.
I melt into him. He draws me up to my toes, tightening his hold on me as he licks into my mouth.
I part my lips.
He instantly takes over. He thrusts his tongue over mine, and drinks from me so deeply, my head spins.
My knees weaken. I cling to the front of his chef coat, feel the planes of his chest shift, and the heat of his body pressing against me.
I kiss him right back, wanting to get even closer.
To get under his skin and not feel the clothes between us. He groans deep in his throat.
A thrill runs up my spine.
This incredible man desires me. The man I never thought I could have is holding me close and worshipping my mouth, and… Oh God. It feels so good. So, right.
He releases me long enough to grab me under my thighs and lift me up. I instantly wrap my legs around his waist.
I’m aware of him moving when my back hits the door.
He pushes his crotch into my core, hitting my clit just right.
Shock waves vibrate up my spine. My head spins.
My toes curl. I dig my heels into his waist, flattening my breasts against his chest. I press myself even closer, rubbing up against the long, thick column between his thighs.
He makes a rumbling sound, kissing me even deeper, if that’s possible. And when he bites down on my lower lip, my clit throbs. My heels hurt. Even my hair follicles seem to tighten. Jesus. I’m burning up. I’m going to catch fire at any second.
He pinches my nipple, and I cry out into his mouth. He swallows down the sound.
Then he wraps his fingers around my throat and squeezes gently.
I shiver. Heat surges under my skin. The feel of his hand around my throat is like a lit match to the gasoline that my blood has turned into. My vision tunnels. My core tightens.
I’m so turned on that when he begins to dry fuck me against the door, pushing up and into me, again and again, rubbing that thick column of his cock through our clothes and up against my pussy lips, I feel like I’m going to explode.
It’s embarrassing how little friction I need to get this turned on. My thighs quiver. The tightness in my lower belly spirals up my spine.
He doubles up on the speed and slides his hand down to my butt. He squeezes it, then angles his body enough to deepen his strokes. Long, smooth, sliding up against my pussy, hitting my clit over and over again, until my entire body shudders
When my eyelids flutter down, he nips on my mouth. "Eyes on me."
I stare into those mesmerizing blue irises as the orgasm holds me in thrall.
That’s when he loosens his hold on my throat. I suck oxygen into my lungs. It fans the flames of my climax. The orgasm crashes over me. I open my mouth on a silent scream, and my climax flings me over the edge.
It’s the most intimate experience of my life, despite the location.
When I slump against him, he rubs his crotch gently against my very sensitized core. I shudder.
One side of his lips quirks. The expression on his face is tender. More open than I’ve ever seen before.
He kisses my forehead tenderly. Then the tip of my nose. Then brushes his lips over mine. He nips on my chin; I moan and stretch my neck to give him better access. He nibbles his way down my throat, to the neckline of my chef whites.
That’s when there’s a knock on the door. "Chef? Harper? Are you guys okay?"
I stiffen. Mark’s voice. He must be wondering where we are. I lower my feet to the ground. James continues to have his arms around me. He doesn’t let go.
"Harper?" he calls out. "Is Chef okay?"
"I’m good," James calls out. "Just finalizing a contingency plan for the rest of the day."
There’s a pause.
"See you guys out here." It’s followed by silence.
"Contingency plan?" I frown.
At some point, my skull cap must have fallen off, and my hair has come loose from its bun. He tucks a strand behind my ear, and nods.
"We’re going home."
"Home?" I stare at him in shock. "It’s the middle of a working day."
"And I want to fuck my wife."
"Oh."
"Oh, indeed." He smirks.
A flush crawls up my neck. Not because I’m embarrassed… Nah, I’m not embarrassed that the man I have fucked many times in my dreams wants to actually fuck me.
I slide out from between him and the door, and this time he allows me.
I don’t want him to see just how overwhelmed I am.
I gather my hair into a messy bun, look around for my hair tie on the floor, but can’t see it.
I sigh, letting my hair flow down to my shoulders again.
"We can’t leave. What if today’s the day the Michelin inspectors decide to come on a visit? "
"Fuck the Michelin inspectors."
I whip my head in his direction. "Did you just say—"
"Yeah. Fuck them. I want to be with you. I want to be inside of you. I need to feel my wife’s pussy milk my dick as I consummate our marriage."
This time, I am embarrassed. "You can’t." I cough. "You can’t say those things out loud; someone might hear you."
"Oh, yeah?" He takes a few steps toward me, until I’m crowded against one of the shelves holding jars of prepared stock.
Thankfully, the shelf is sturdy. And there’s enough space between the jars and the edge, so I’m not touching them.
He peers into my face. "Who owns the restaurant?"
"You do," I murmur.
"And who are you married to?"
"You."
His eyes flash. The heat in them goes straight to my heart. It’s like someone dumped a bucket-load of adrenaline into my bloodstream.
It’s clear he’s serious about leaving. And I want to go with him too. I want to be with him. I need to fill this aching void inside me. My skin feels too tight for me. My scalp feels itchy.
Even if we stay, I’m not going to be able to focus on the food preparation. I swallow. But that he suggested it still feels unreal.
"You’re James Hamilton. You’re a stickler for perfection. Your food. Your restaurant. It always comes first."
He thinks about it, then nods. "You’re right.”
"I am?" My heart sinks to my feet. I hadn’t realized how much I really wanted to leave with him. How much I’d hoped that, in this one instance, he’d put me before The Edge. That he’d put me first in his life…just for a few hours.
"Okay." I accept his words. Then begin to search the floor again. "Let me look for my hair tie and—"
"I am everything you say I am, but I want to fuck my wife more."
For the second time in a few minutes, I jerk my chin in his direction.
His eyes are serious. His expression is set in lines of resolve indicating his mind is made up.
"Oh." Once again, I’m speechless. My brain cells seem to have short-circuited. He can’t possibly want to leave the restaurant in the middle of the day? That's a first.
"You don’t do things like this," I finally manage to say.
"Perhaps, I’ve changed?" He smooths down my chef coat, then brushes his knuckles over my mouth. "I can’t wait to have these wrapped around my cock."
A thousand little fires ignite in my bloodstream.
"James." I half laugh, half moan. "Please stop."
His gaze turns keen "You like it when I talk dirty."
"Considering, until a few weeks ago, all I got was a few grunts from you. Yeah, I love it when you talk dirty. But also, we need to get home first."
A troubled look comes into his eyes. "I’m sorry if you found me disagreeable.
Those on my team need to win my trust. It didn't matter that you were Phe’s friend and someone I was unable to forget since we met.
" He takes my hand in his. "It’s not an excuse, but I hope it explains a little of why I'm so intense in the kitchen. "
I gaze at him in shock. "And now, you’re apologizing to me." I reach up and place the back of my palm against his neck. "Are you running a temperature?"
His lips quirk in that half smile which is turning out to be my personal downfall. "Damn, you’re sassy, and that turns me on so fucking much."
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingertips.
"Come on, let’s face the hordes, then get out of here."