Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart

by Nicole Flockton

  Her lips stretched into a grin. ‘Neither.’

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  She nodded, her eyes twinkling and her cheeks rosy. ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Come.’ He grabbed her hand and she moaned. He paused—dragging her into his office for a quickie did seem far too primitive but he had a stash of condoms in a drawer there. He kept them for the staff, never intending to use them himself.

  ‘Damn, I love it when you command me.’ Her voice pushed away the reminder that he should not be doing this with her—she worked for him. There was a line he was about to leap across with both feet. Willingly.

  ‘You do?’ He swallowed. ‘You always act as though you hate me when I issue orders.’

  ‘And you’ve never once given an indication that you wanted to thoroughly kiss me. You push me away.’

  He grinned and placed his other hand over his heart. ‘You’ve figured out my secret. I push you away, because I knew that if I kissed you, it’d be perfect and I’d never want to stop.’

  Her brown eyes widened. ‘Truly?’

  ‘Truly.’

  ‘Then why are we wasting time talking?’ Her full smile lit up his world and he pulled her body tight against his. His cock pressed hard against her stomach and she let out a small gasp. It took all his control not to thrust against her firm flesh. He bent his head and kissed her again. He’d never be able to feast on her enough. Her earthy scent, the heat of the chilli, prawn, and bouillabaisse on his tongue, and an indefinable something that was all hers—like citrus and summer sunshine and the rich earth she tended daily. She stroked his tongue, matching her rhythm with little circles of her thumb on the back of his neck. He growled into her mouth and took control, walking her backwards into his office. He swept his arms down her slim back, past the strong muscles of her spine, lower until he cupped her perfect arse. He lifted her onto his desk. Her mouth stretched slightly as if she smiled against his kiss, and she spread her legs to wrap them around his waist. With one step, he stepped between and pressed his aching cock against her jeans. She shifted on the desk, lifting her hips to rub against his length and he cursed into her mouth. Fuck. If she continued to grind herself against him, he’d spill right here. Right now. He took a half step back, breaking their kiss to haul in some air to his burning lungs.

  ‘More. Give me everything.’ Bianca’s voice was ragged and low. He blinked, as his breath ran rough over his lips. She glanced down at his apron, and a sly little grin flickered on her mouth. With a single tug, she reached around him and undid the apron. She shoved it aside and ran her thumb up his length. Heat flooded his body and he groaned. Reaching for her, he fumbled on her jeans. She slid off the office desk and helped him push her jeans down her legs.

  ‘I want to go slow for you, Bianca.’ His voice cracked, rough, like he’d eaten the gravel right off the paths threading around her garden.

  ‘Next time. I need you now.’

  He glanced down at her exposed flesh, her little triangle of black hair, strong pale thighs, and his own hips jerked towards her.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She reached out for him again, stroking up and down his length. ‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life.’ He pulled open the drawer beside her and grabbed a condom with trembling excited fingers.

  ‘Good. Turn around. Bend over the desk.’

  She paused for a second and he held his breath. Maybe he’d gone too far. Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip, then she circled the top of his cock with one finger.

  ‘As you wish.’ Fuck yeah. She leaned forward over the desk with her chin rested on her palms and elbows on the desk creating a natural arch in her spine. Her legs were spread as far as her jeans would allow and he laid his hand on the small of her back. He traced down over the curve of her ass, and her flesh vibrated slightly as he followed the curve of her thigh.

  ‘Oh, I wish.’ He knelt down on his office floor and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh. She strained against her jeans, caught around her knees, trying to open up wider for him. Her soft pink flesh all exposed for him was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He dragged his tongue up the inside of her thigh. Gooseflesh broke out and she moaned low in the back of her throat. He couldn’t wait—he’d take more time next time—and he covered all over her with his mouth. Oh, the sweet pleasure of her, her salty musk filled his mouth, and all previous flavours disappeared as she overwhelmed him. He stroked her with his tongue, toying with her clit. With one hand on her back to keep her still he tasted her until she moaned and begged for more. A bit more pressure on her clit and she came, her muscles clenching on nothing. He slipped his other hand between her legs, filling her with his fingers, as he stood up on shaky legs. She shifted, pushing against his hand, riding his fingers.

  ‘Etienne.’ She called his name with a note of desperation.

  ‘Can I fill you?’

  A strangled noise emanated from her throat. ‘You are. Ask properly.’

  ‘Please, Bianca, can I fuck you?’

  ‘Oh my god, yes. I thought you’d never ask.’

  He unbuttoned his fly, pausing to pull in a deep breath. Don’t rush. Make this good. Patience. The way his blood simmered in his veins made him feel like a fumbling virgin all over again. He grabbed the condom, tore open the packet and rolled it down his needy cock.

  ‘Are you still alright with this?’ He held the base of his penis and angled it to slide the head over her slick wet flesh.

  ‘Fuck yes.’ She lifted her hips, opening herself wider for him. With one hand on her hip, and the other guiding his cock, he forced himself to wait. Every fibre of his body wanted to thrust into her. Hard. Instead he dragged his cock up and down over her trembling flesh. Her moans filled his office, echoing off the wall, as he pressed his cock hard against her clit. She arched her back.

  ‘Fill me now.’

  He didn’t, couldn’t, wait any more, and shifted slightly. One hard thrust into her. She clenched around him as he slid in and out of heaven. Her body surrounded his, slick and warm, and fucking wonderful. Thundering chemistry filled his ears with noise and he knew this would be a fast ride. She screamed out as he filled her again and again. So utterly perfect. Her arms spread out wide across his desk, and he leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck. More thrusts, more writhing from her, and he reached underneath her to cradle her breast. He was so close to losing his mind, but he wanted, desperately, more than anything, for her to come again. One pinch of her nipple was all it took and she shuddered around him, squeezing his cock until he slammed into her over and over, coming hard. He collapsed onto her, as little white stars formed at the back of his eyeballs.

  ‘Incredible.’ He managed a hoarse whisper against her scalp.

  They enjoyed the next round in the shower at his house, and again in his bed until they both collapsed, sated. Bianca fell asleep beside him with a gentle smile on her lips and it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. He wanted to see her smile like that every night, forever. It wasn’t until he woke with a jerk at three in the morning that he realised what he’d done. Anvita’s voice rang clear in his mind. ‘Don’t fuck her. I want to keep this chemistry between you.’ He’d always kept his distance, and now he’d screwed up everything. Literally. In all his experience in different kitchens around the world, he’d never seen a successful relationship. Sex didn’t mix well with the high-pressure environment of a top end restaurant. He wanted Homage more than anything. His stomach sank. A relationship? They bickered constantly. Thrilling, but hardly conducive to a long-term future. He rolled out of bed and threw on a shirt in the dark before pacing to the kitchen. He squinted as he turned on the light and grabbed a wooden cutting board. One of yesterday’s rolls would have to do—he broke it open and breathed in the yeasty smell. It was still fresh enough for his comfort food. He opened the fridge, pulled out the thrice-churned speciality butter from a local producer, spread it over the roll, then added a thick spread of the pate he’d made yeste
rday.

  ‘Hungry?’

  He spun around at Bianca’s voice. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You know what would make that better?’

  He raised one eyebrow. ‘I’m not adding chilli to my bread.’

  A sly smile spread over her face. ‘Trust me. This is the perfect blend. The French bread of the colonisers improved by local Vietnamese cuisine to create the world’s greatest sandwich.’

  ‘That’s a mighty claim.’ He placed the roll back on the cutting board, intrigued.

  ‘Finish your roll. It’s the middle of the night—come back to bed with me.’

  He chuckled. Maybe they’d be the exception… Or maybe it was just his dick talking. ‘Sure. Tomorrow.’

  ‘I promise. And I guarantee you’ll like it.’

  ‘I know something else I’ll like.’ He swept his arms around her and swung her into a hug. She squealed with delight, a wide grin over her face.

  ‘You are far too awake for this time of night.’

  ‘Then help me go back to sleep.’ He bent to kiss her, but she ducked her head sideways.

  ‘You are insatiable…’ She brushed her cheek against his and whispered. ‘And it’s wonderful. Take me back to your bed. Fuck me senseless.’

  7

  Chapter 7

  Etienne licked the spoon as he finished taste testing the piperade recipe for today’s shooting. The camera crew was setting up, while Bianca was off with Anvita doing hair and makeup or something. He’d been through the same process too—it was incredible to see how much work went into the little details for a simple TV show. The colour of his shirt and how it looked against the colours in the kitchen and against the food. The lighting in the space and how that created shadows on his face determined the way they stood, and the camera crew came armed with extra lights that they hung on wobbly metal poles to get rid of shadows. Over the past week, his relationship with Bianca had … relationship? More like intense fucking at every moment they could find alone. There weren’t many moments to be found during the course of running a restaurant. She didn’t complain about his long hours, saying she needed alone time to recharge, but he couldn’t help this foreboding that it wouldn’t be this playful between them forever.

  ‘What’s the plan for today?’ Anvita marched into his kitchen without a hello. Her cursory glance over her staff’s work quickly refocused on him. Etienne appreciated how she trusted people to get on with their work without her micro-managing everything. It was something he’d learnt long ago in the kitchen—that continual striving for balance between needing to control the quality of the kitchen’s output and giving people space to do their job—more than that—letting them succeed at their job.

  ‘Good morning. I’m going to take advantage of Bianca’s brilliant tomatoes and do Basque mussels with a piperade, and of course, fresh sourdough.’

  He’d eaten a Banh Mi for lunch every day since she’d introduced him to the sandwich, but he wouldn’t be creating it for the show. It was a declaration too far, especially given Anvita had declared they must keep up the tension between them. Maybe in the second season, he could start looking at more fusion style cuisine, bringing in influences from around the globe, not just Vietnam, but everywhere to his cooking.

  ‘Basque?’

  ‘Oui. It’s an area near the border of Spain and France, on the other sea, not the Mediterranean side of France where I grew up.’

  ‘So, they are Spanish mussels?’

  ‘Non. These are fresh local mussels delivered to Homage today.’

  Anvita nodded. ‘Good. As long as your choices are aligned with what people can expect when they arrive at Homage, and there is a plenty of reason to bicker with your pretty little gardener, then I’m sure it’ll go great. The pilot episode came together nicely. It’ll go to air in about six months.’

  ‘Six months?’ He couldn’t prevent a whine of disappointment and he winced at his own tone.

  ‘I know, it’s not ideal. I’ve been pushing for a slot much sooner than that. I want to capitalise on the seasonal angle and get it airtime as quick as possible, but the programming director is being difficult.’ Anvita’s mouth pinched together.

  Etienne grimaced. ‘Never mind. We will create the best version of Homage we can. It will be a showcase of the best produce from the Margaret River region, and soon everyone will want to visit.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘What’s a good idea?’ Bianca wandered into the kitchen in that breezy way of hers. Etienne turned towards her, drawn to her presence as if she’d thrown a rope around his waist and tugged his body towards hers.

  ‘Tourism. I will talk to the local tourist bodies and give the show a push that way. Give me a week.’ Anvita held up her finger. ‘Once we get the timing confirmed, then we can plan the rest of the episodes. The editing isn’t too strenuous, you gave us plenty of footage to work with last week and it’s come together into a nice half hour show.’

  ‘Let’s do it.’ He smiled and was puzzled when Anvita raised one finely arched brow.

  ‘Bianca, can you grab some pretty looking tomatoes from the garden, and we’ll start by shooting you walking in with armfuls of them? I see you’ve already had hair and makeup done. Excellent,’ Anvita said. Bianca nodded and left the room and Anvita watched her exit. As soon as Bianca disappeared out the door into the gardens, Anvita whirled back to face him.

  ‘Tone it down.’

  ‘Tone what down?’ A nasty prickly heat rose up his torso as he guessed what she meant.

  Anvita raised that eyebrow even higher. ‘You fucked her, didn’t you? You are much happier than last week. I didn’t sign up for bland happy chef. I want the unrequited chemistry, the banter, not this adoring sappy-eyed nonsense.’

  Etienne staggered back a step and blinked slowly. He closed his gaping mouth. ‘Excuse me. What?’

  ‘Don’t deny it. Something has changed since last week.’

  ‘Oui. Something has changed. I’m excited to have my own show, and anything between Bianca and myself is none of your business.’

  ‘It is if you make gooey eyes at her instead of giving the camera what you promised me. I want the punchy banter. I want the snide digs, viewers love that.’

  ‘Banter I can do. Cruelty has never been my style.’ He wanted to fold his arms and stare down at her.

  Anvita narrowed her eyes, as if she were assessing him. ‘Just keep it snappy. Edgy.’

  Etienne saluted her, trying not to curl up his top lip. ‘Yes, boss.’ Anvita’s features relaxed, almost into a smile. For all her talk of chemistry, she seemed to spend more time analysing it than enjoying it. He blew out a sharp breath—the side effect of getting plenty of great sex was wondering how to make sure everyone else found a partner to make them as happy. He rolled his shoulders. Anvita was married, or soon to be, judging by the huge ring on her finger. Her sex life was her business, not his. Just as his was none of Anvita’s business. Time to introduce some tension—he wanted this show more than anything—he just needed to figure out a way to get there without sacrificing Bianca’s feelings along the way.

  ‘Okay. All ready?’

  The various camera people all murmured their agreement and Anvita gave the signal to begin.

  ‘Before we start—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I find this introduction part awkward. You don’t want me to speak to the camera, and Bianca isn’t here to talk to either. Do I prowl around muttering to myself like the hunchback in the Notre Dame story? Or what?’

  ‘Hmm. Good point. I rather liked it when you texted Bianca to come in last time and then it just flowed. Today we will start with her walking in carrying tomatoes and you can ask if she has the tomatoes you requested.’

  ‘Obviously she will because she’s carrying the damned things.’

  Anvita smiled. ‘Yes, just like that. Too much sex hasn’t completely ruined your brand, I see.’ The camera people all giggled under their breaths, and Etienne’s chest tightened. He didn’t wa
nt everyone to know his private business, and he certainly didn’t want them all laughing at Bianca without her knowledge.

  ‘Just start doing preparation for whatever you are going to make—with or without muttering—and I’ll run Bianca through what I want.’

  ‘She’s out in the garden somewhere.’

  ‘I know. I already sent her out for tomatoes.’

  ‘And here I am.’ Bianca’s voice floated through the room and filled the void in his chest like some kind of mystical nonsense. Etienne felt the tension in his neck ease at her presence, and he purposefully made himself imagine he’d sliced his finger while cutting avocado. The metallic smell of blood tainting one of his favourite foods, dark blood flowing across his cutting board and marring the rich flesh of the avocado. Tension ratcheted up again.

  ‘Good.’ Anvita waved her hand dismissively at the back door. ‘Leave, then come back in as if Etienne has demanded you bring him tomatoes. I want to see that same look on your face as last week. No puppy eyes, more like he is so arrogant and irritating.’

  ‘Puppy eyes? Have you seen what he’s called in my phone? I’m not at risk of that.’ Bianca’s dismissal of him hurt, and he glanced down at his hands in case he really had sliced himself. No blood, just a cut to his pride.

  ‘Hand over your phone.’ He had to know what she’d nicknamed him.

  Bianca shook her head with a cheeky grin painted on her very kissable lips. ‘You wish. Come on, Anvita doesn’t have all day. Let’s get started.’ She left the room, then walked back in, still carrying a cloth filled with tomatoes.

  ‘Put those there. I need two of the beefsteak ones and several smaller cherry tomatoes in different colours.’ Etienne’s voice sounded fake in his own ears, like he was trying way too hard to command her. A whisper of memory sent a rush of blood to his cheeks—she liked it when he commanded her in bed. Bianca leaned forward, oblivious to his thoughts, and let the tomatoes tumble gently onto the kitchen bench. She reached out to grab one that rolled too far. The bloody top that Anvita had dressed her in for today’s show sagged at the front giving the cameras a perfect view of her delightful handful-sized breasts. His. He wanted to roar with possessiveness. Instead he sniffed. ‘Don’t bruise them.’