Zane.
One quickie with her on a cold hard floor had worsened his longing by a gazillion times. He couldn’t wish it hadn’t happened; he wasn’t smart enough for that. He did wish it hadn’t been quite as earthshaking.
There was something between them, some out of the ordinary emotional chemistry. Trey was willing to bet she’d never come like that with another man. Her eyes in those final moments had been too damned surprised.
When she laid her head on his shoulder, he’d nearly asked her to marry him.
Knowing he’d lost his mind for certain, he handed her the thick-soled shoes he’d taken from her earlier. While it was true restaurant work kept people on their feet, surely she could do better. Telling himself not to be a fashion snob didn’t kill his urge to toss them in the trash.
“Thanks,” she said. Dropping the hideous things to the floor, she braced on the worktop to push her cute feet into them. He’d rushed through stripping her, though he had noticed her legs were nice—lent charm by muscles as well as curves. He was sorry they’d disappeared into her uninspired black trousers. Honestly, she had to be trying to look dowdy.
“Do you even own a dress?” he blurted.
She straightened and looked at him pinchily. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”
It might be his business. Being named The Lounge’s executive chef could conceivably involve a photo op or two.
He clamped his mouth on the words. Being in the right wasn’t always strategic. “I’ll have Elaine email you a contract to look over.”
“Elaine is your assistant?”
“Yes.” Stubbornly, he didn’t pass Rebecca her tan jacket—yet another supremely boring garment—but held it up for her. Though she grimaced at him playing gentleman, she turned and slid her arms into it.
When she would have moved away, he dropped his hands to her shoulders, once again as tense as before they’d worked out their kinks on the kitchen floor.
“Don’t be sorry about this,” he said, his frustration creeping into his tone. “If you’d just eaten a great meal, you wouldn’t regret it afterward.”
She turned to him, and he let her. Her features were delicate—extra pretty with flushes from sex and kissing staining them. Ten heaps of boring clothes couldn’t hide that her lips were luscious, her elfin hair improved by tousling. Clearly ignorant of her gorgeousness, she cocked her head to one side. “You’re not sorry for what we did?”
“Never,” he declared, meaning it.
She smiled, probably because he sounded so earnest. She patted his chest, immediately making him regret having covered it with a shirt. He hadn’t forgotten how she’d enjoyed combing his chest hair.
“All right,” she said. “No regrets for the world class meal.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have, but he felt better at her calling it world class .
CHAPTER SIX
The Darling Boys
REBECCA walked down the block and sat in her Versa, staring at nothing. She’d promised Trey she wouldn’t be sorry, but that was easier said than done. He was going to be her boss—probably, hopefully—which meant their relationship ought to stay professional. Now that she’d felt his athletic body pressed up to and into hers, she couldn’t imagine how she’d accomplish that.
Not wriggling on the seat was impossible. Having Trey only once would never satisfy her. He’d been an amazing lover: vigorous, intense, with a knack for knowing what she wanted almost before she did. All he had to do was look at her with those hot green eyes, and she’d melt into a puddle.
She dropped her head to the steering wheel and groaned. His cock had been lovely: its silky heat in her hand, the skill with which he used it to pleasure her. Her fingers curled at the thought of stroking his shaft again. Worse, they curled at the thought of embracing him.
He’d cradled her at the end, as if she were precious. She’d felt safe in his arms. She’d wanted to stay there.
Absolutely
One quickie with her on a cold hard floor had worsened his longing by a gazillion times. He couldn’t wish it hadn’t happened; he wasn’t smart enough for that. He did wish it hadn’t been quite as earthshaking.
There was something between them, some out of the ordinary emotional chemistry. Trey was willing to bet she’d never come like that with another man. Her eyes in those final moments had been too damned surprised.
When she laid her head on his shoulder, he’d nearly asked her to marry him.
Knowing he’d lost his mind for certain, he handed her the thick-soled shoes he’d taken from her earlier. While it was true restaurant work kept people on their feet, surely she could do better. Telling himself not to be a fashion snob didn’t kill his urge to toss them in the trash.
“Thanks,” she said. Dropping the hideous things to the floor, she braced on the worktop to push her cute feet into them. He’d rushed through stripping her, though he had noticed her legs were nice—lent charm by muscles as well as curves. He was sorry they’d disappeared into her uninspired black trousers. Honestly, she had to be trying to look dowdy.
“Do you even own a dress?” he blurted.
She straightened and looked at him pinchily. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”
It might be his business. Being named The Lounge’s executive chef could conceivably involve a photo op or two.
He clamped his mouth on the words. Being in the right wasn’t always strategic. “I’ll have Elaine email you a contract to look over.”
“Elaine is your assistant?”
“Yes.” Stubbornly, he didn’t pass Rebecca her tan jacket—yet another supremely boring garment—but held it up for her. Though she grimaced at him playing gentleman, she turned and slid her arms into it.
When she would have moved away, he dropped his hands to her shoulders, once again as tense as before they’d worked out their kinks on the kitchen floor.
“Don’t be sorry about this,” he said, his frustration creeping into his tone. “If you’d just eaten a great meal, you wouldn’t regret it afterward.”
She turned to him, and he let her. Her features were delicate—extra pretty with flushes from sex and kissing staining them. Ten heaps of boring clothes couldn’t hide that her lips were luscious, her elfin hair improved by tousling. Clearly ignorant of her gorgeousness, she cocked her head to one side. “You’re not sorry for what we did?”
“Never,” he declared, meaning it.
She smiled, probably because he sounded so earnest. She patted his chest, immediately making him regret having covered it with a shirt. He hadn’t forgotten how she’d enjoyed combing his chest hair.
“All right,” she said. “No regrets for the world class meal.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have, but he felt better at her calling it world class .
CHAPTER SIX
The Darling Boys
REBECCA walked down the block and sat in her Versa, staring at nothing. She’d promised Trey she wouldn’t be sorry, but that was easier said than done. He was going to be her boss—probably, hopefully—which meant their relationship ought to stay professional. Now that she’d felt his athletic body pressed up to and into hers, she couldn’t imagine how she’d accomplish that.
Not wriggling on the seat was impossible. Having Trey only once would never satisfy her. He’d been an amazing lover: vigorous, intense, with a knack for knowing what she wanted almost before she did. All he had to do was look at her with those hot green eyes, and she’d melt into a puddle.
She dropped her head to the steering wheel and groaned. His cock had been lovely: its silky heat in her hand, the skill with which he used it to pleasure her. Her fingers curled at the thought of stroking his shaft again. Worse, they curled at the thought of embracing him.
He’d cradled her at the end, as if she were precious. She’d felt safe in his arms. She’d wanted to stay there.
Absolutely
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