by Jaci Burton
She grasped the counter as he moved within her with slow, measured movements.
"Tell me what feels good for you," he said.
"This feels good. Just like this."
He swept his hand around to fondle her breasts, to tease and pluck her nipples. The sensations took her breath away, making her push back against him.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "Now, that's what I like. Push yourself onto my cock."
She loved hearing him talk. The sound of Flynn's deep voice was an aphrodisiac all on its own. And when he moved inside of her and spoke to her, encouraging her with whispered, naughty words, all she wanted to do was come.
She reached between her legs to rub her clit. As she moved her hand over the bud, her pussy tightened around Flynn's shaft.
"That's it," Flynn said. "Make yourself come. Make me come, too."
He drove into her with precise movements, using his cock, his hands and his mouth to take her right to the edge. She used her own hand to soar right over.
"I'm coming," she said, tilting her head back and rocking against his cock as she shook all over with her orgasm.
Flynn gripped her hips and thrust faster, then groaned as he drove deeply into her again and again as he came.
She was out of breath when she came down from that amazing, quivering high.
Flynn scooped his arm around her and pulled her upright, then withdrew, turned her around and cupped the side of her face with his hand.
"I can barely breathe," she said, grinning.
"Ditto."
He kissed her, this time a soft, gentle kiss that sent those familiar quakes dancing around in her stomach.
He took her hand and they went to the bedroom. After he disposed of the condom, they climbed into bed.
"I don't know about you, but I didn't sleep much last night," she said.
He curled up behind her and kissed the side of her neck. "You don't have anything to do today, do you?"
She yawned. "Nothing super important. Just laundry and paying bills and . . . things."
She wasn't sure she finished the sentence before she was asleep.
*
Amelia woke with a start. She looked behind her. The bed was empty. The clock on the wall in her bedroom said it was noon. She'd slept for two hours.
Okay, then. She did feel a lot better after that nap. She stretched, got up and went to the bathroom, then threw on underwear and a tank top and wandered down the hall to look for Flynn.
When she entered the kitchen, she halted mid stride.
Flynn was standing at her stove, cooking . . . something. While naked and wearing one of her aprons.
Now, that was a sight Amelia didn't see every day. Or ever. A gorgeous, tattooed, apron-wearing naked man cooking in her kitchen.
She walked into the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible as she moved in behind Flynn. She scooped her arms around him. "Did anyone ever tell you that your ass looks amazing in an apron?"
He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. "All the time."
She cocked a smile at him. "What are you doing?"
"Cooking."
She rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Looks like eggs Benedict. And asparagus."
"I already did a Caprese salad. That's in the fridge."
Her stomach rumbled. "Now I'm starving."
"I figured you might be hungry. I was about to wake you up."
"Wearing that getup, I hope."
He laughed. "Maybe. Now that I know naked apron-wearing guys are such a turn-on for you, I'm going to have to buy one."
She went to grab the salad and her pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge. "Why buy one, when my pink and black teapot apron looks so good on you?"
He grabbed a plate and started preparing the main course. "You have a point. Fine. I'm keeping this one. It makes my eyes stand out, doesn't it?"
"No, it makes your ass stand out." She poured two glasses of iced tea.
He brought a plate over and placed it in front of her, then grabbed his and set it on the island. "I'll be right back."
While he was gone, she served up the Caprese salad on both of their plates and pulled out silverware. When Flynn came back into the room, he was wearing his jeans.
"Now I'm sad. I was so enjoying the apron show."
He pulled up a seat at the island. "I'm sure you were. But I don't think you want my naked ass on your cloth seats."
She took a napkin and set it on her lap. "I'm happy for you to place your naked ass wherever you want."
He lifted his gaze to hers and shot a hot smile at her. "And how about your naked ass, Amelia?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, Flynn. What would you like to do with my naked ass?"
He lifted his fork. "This conversation is making my dick hard. I'm filing it away for future reference."
"You do that." She knew the feeling. Just discussing sex of any kind with Flynn made her belly--and other parts south--quiver. She was so incredibly sexually attracted to him.
But there was so much more depth to him. Like this meal, for example. She was certainly hungry, but she also took the time to savor each bite of the Canadian bacon, poached egg and biscuit. And the hollandaise sauce was creamy and delicious.
"You didn't use the store-bought biscuits I had in the fridge."
He frowned. "Bite your tongue, woman. That's fine if you want to slather some butter and jelly on them. But for this you need scratch biscuits."
"You are a man after my own heart, Flynn Cassidy."
He gave her a look she didn't quite know how to decipher. Something between a smile and a look of confusion.
Then again, it didn't surprise her since their relationship was often confusing to her. Last night she'd been an utter bitch to him. This morning there'd been hot sex. And now he'd cooked for her. He was smart and focused and talented and ridiculously good-looking, not to mention panty-dropping sexy. He was oh-dear-God fine in the sack, too. The man knew his way around a woman's body.
Was she crazy to be so wary of a relationship with him considering he was maybe the perfect man?
No. No man was perfect. Flynn certainly had flaws. She just hadn't seen them yet.
"You're kind of quiet over there."
She lifted her gaze to his, along with her fork. "Stuffing my face over here. And thank you for fixing food for me. Not only food, but delicious food."
He shrugged. "I know basic stuff, nothing fancy. And you're welcome."
"Don't downgrade your abilities in the kitchen, Flynn. You could have whipped up some scrambled eggs and toast, but you didn't. This is fancy."
"Thanks."
Amelia got an inkling that maybe Flynn enjoyed cooking more than he let on. That maybe he wanted to cook more than he let anyone know. For a guy, especially a guy whose job it wasn't to be a chef or a cook of any kind, dabbling in the culinary arts could--to some people--maybe seem less than masculine.
Which, to her, and to a lot of people, was utterly ridiculous. Times had most definitely changed and everyone loved cooking now, from men to women to children. But coming at it from Flynn's perspective, here was a man who played football in a very highly testosterone-laden environment. He had three brothers. It could possibly be that he didn't want to give the impression that cooking was his passion.
Which was okay, but she knew he loved Ninety-Two. No reason not to love the cooking part of it as well. She could see him becoming more involved behind the scenes there. She wasn't some crazy chef who didn't let anyone into her kitchen. Flynn was the owner. If he wanted to come in and dabble . . .
"So, you love cooking."
He looked up at her. "I like it, yeah. Why?"
She leaned back in the chair, trying to take the easy, no-big-deal approach. "I think you like it more than you let on. Plus, you're a great cook, Flynn."
"Thanks. Like I said, I dabble and I can whip up some things, but it's not like it's my career. That's your career."
"Very true. I was wondering, though, if you wouldn
't want to learn . . . more."
He frowned. "More what?"
"More about cooking. Especially as it relates to Ninety-Two. I realize you like to eat and you're very involved in Ninety-Two's menu, but wouldn't it be fun when you're in town and not at practice if you, let's say, stepped into the kitchen at Ninety-Two and did some dabbling now and then?"
He cocked a brow. "Trying to put me to work, Amelia?"
She laughed. "Not at all. I just think you have a lot to offer your guests."
"Like what? Burned caramelized tuna?"
She gave him the side eye. "Please. As if that would ever happen. As if I would allow it to happen in my kitchen."
He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I'd have to think about it."
"Sure. Okay." She didn't want to push him, so she went back to finishing her meal. But then the best idea ever occurred to her.
"Oh. Flynn. I have such a great idea."
He smiled at her. "Is it sex related? Do you get to wear the apron naked now?"
She laughed. "No, it's not sex related. It goes back to you cooking at Ninety-Two."
"Okay."
"What if you developed a signature dish that we could put on the menu? We could call it the Cassidy, and indicate that you developed the dish."
He gave her a dubious look. "Oh, sure. No pressure there, Amelia."
"Oh, come on. You have great ideas. I'm sure you'd come up with something amazing. And it would be incredible PR for Ninety-Two."
He looked at her, then nodded. "Yeah, it would, wouldn't it? It's not the worst idea ever."
"Wow, thanks so much for that vote of confidence."
He cracked a smile. "I didn't mean that. It's actually a pretty amazing idea. I'm only sorry I didn't think of it first."
She laughed. "Jerk."
After they finished eating, they did dishes and put away the pots and pans.
"I noticed you had some cookbook notes out on the island," Flynn said after they finished drying the last pot and Amelia put it away in the drawer.
She gave him a look. "Yeah, just something I'm doodling on in my off hours."
"I saw the recipes. I wasn't snooping or anything, they were just lying there so I took a peek."
"It's okay. I wasn't trying to hide it."
"Good. Anyway, they look delicious. Are you trying to publish it?"
"Not really. Like I've told you before, cooking relaxes me. So I like to work out some recipes that are in my head, create them and see how they taste. If they're a success, I write them down. I don't know that I'll ever do anything with them. Maybe someday I'll pass the collection on to my kids." She smiled at him.
He smiled back. "Or you could publish it. You're a great chef, Amelia."
She laughed. "There are a lot of good chefs out there, Flynn. And do you know how difficult it is to get a cookbook published? I mean, yes, I could self-publish it and maybe Laura would buy a copy and maybe a few other people I know. No, thanks, I don't need that kind of rejection in my life."
"Hey." He smoothed his hand down her arm. "You're good. Really good. And I don't think you give yourself enough credit. We could always have copies printed and make them for sale at Ninety-Two."
She shook her head. "That's muddying the waters. Ninety-Two is about you. Not me. Let's keep it that way."
"Okay. But if you do decide to publish your cookbook, you have my full support."
She looked at him, and something in that belly region fluttered again. "Thank you, Flynn. It's been a long time since someone supported me."
"You're welcome. Now, what do you have planned for the day?"
"Nothing really. House chores."
He leaned back in the chair. "I could get into watching you vacuum."
"Funny. More like doing laundry and paying bills."
He wrinkled his nose. "No fun there. That doesn't even sound sexy. Unless you want to have sex on top of a pile of dirty laundry."
She laughed. "You would do that, wouldn't you?"
"Hey, I'm game for anything. Or anywhere. As long as it's with you." He leaned over and rubbed his hand over her thigh. And damn if it didn't perk up all her nerve endings.
She could while away the entire day in bed with Flynn if she allowed herself the luxury. Unfortunately, there was a lot more on her to-do list for today than just the two items she'd told him about. So she slid out of her chair and moved away from him. "Sorry. I also have to go to the bank, run to the grocery store and get a manicure and pedicure. Hey, have you ever had a mani-pedi? You could come with me."
He gave her a horrified look. "That is definitely my cue to leave."
"No way. You'd look cute with pink painted toes. They'd match your apron."
"Funny." He grabbed his shirt and drew it on, then put on his socks and tennis shoes. She walked him to the door and handed him his coat.
He pulled her against him. "Thanks for this morning. For the nap. And everything in between."
She kissed him, letting the kiss linger, regretting that she couldn't spend the day in bed with him, especially when his hands wandered over her butt. Yeah, he definitely had her number there. With a sigh, she stepped back. "And thank you for making brunch for me."
"I'll call you later."
"I'd like that. Bye, Flynn."
She watched him leave, and with great regret, went to the kitchen island and grabbed her notebook so she could start making out her list of things to do for the day. Maybe if she finished early enough she and Flynn could have dinner--or something--together later.
She smiled at the thought of what that "something" might be.
Now, that was something to look forward to.
TWENTY-TWO
The team had finished up practice early, and since he had an out-of-town game that weekend, Flynn wanted to stop by and see Amelia. They had spent nearly every day together for the past week, either her staying at his place or him coming by after she got off work to spend the night at hers.
They were getting closer and he liked it. When she wasn't with him he missed her. He was getting used to waking up with her warm body nestled against his and the scent of her hair against his nose.
It was a good thing.
He knocked on her door and she opened it with a smile. Her smile always made something in the region of his gut tighten.
"Hey. Your hair is wet."
"I just got out of the shower. Come on in."
He shed his jacket and hung it on the rack he'd installed for her one night last week after they'd discussed how she didn't have a coat closet or a coat rack. So they'd gone shopping and she'd picked out a simple wooden board with hanging pegs that she said would work fine for coats because it didn't take up a lot of space.
At least now there was a spot for hanging coats in her living room. They'd made fun of each other for being domestic and shopping for house things together like a couple. He wasn't sure if she was making light of it because she thought it was funny, or because it genuinely freaked her out. So he made sure to keep it fun and uneventful so it didn't seem like a big deal.
Baby steps. He knew how much Amelia's ex had screwed with her head and he didn't want to put any pressure on her. He wasn't going anywhere.
"What time do you have to be at work?" he asked as he followed her into the kitchen.
"Four."
He looked at his phone. It was three. Not enough time. There was never enough time.
She turned and looked at him. "What are you doing the rest of the day today?"
"Not much."
"You should come to work with me and cook."
He cocked a brow. "Why? Are you shorthanded?"
She laughed. "No. I meant you should work on your signature dish."
"Oh." He pondered the thought. "I wouldn't be in your way?"
"Of course not. Plus, it's your restaurant. I promise you we'll make room for you and stay out of your way. And you'd have me to assist you."
"Okay, I'll do that."
"Awesome. Now I'm exc
ited."
He came closer and put his arms around her. "And you weren't excited about going to work before? I might have to report this to your boss."
She wound a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth close to hers. "Asshole," she whispered against his lips before kissing him.
There was something about having Amelia's body next to his that fired him up faster and hotter than blitzing an offensive lineman on a short third down. And when she pressed in closer against him, aligning her body with his, he was ready for action, his cock going hard.
He pulled back and searched her face. "Enough time?"
"Not if you keep talking." With a sexy smile, she reached for the button of his jeans, then shoved the denim down his hips. When she reached into his boxers and pulled his cock out, then began stroking his shaft, he groaned.
Obviously she was in need as much as he was, fired up as much as him. One of the things he liked a lot about her was the way her sex drive matched his.
Okay, he liked a lot of things about her that had nothing to do with sex. This was just a bonus.
Fortunately, she was still in her robe, so he untied the sash and pulled it aside so he could put his mouth on her nipples. She whimpered and tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging hard on it when he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
His cock tightened.
"No foreplay," she said. "I need you inside me."
He all but dragged her into the bedroom. She threw off her robe and he fished a condom out of the box in her nightstand drawer. She lay on the bed and spread her legs, sliding her fingers over her sex. He was pretty sure the strangled sound he heard came from him as he stared down at the beautiful woman lying on the bed, her legs spread as she teased her fingers over her pussy.
He grasped his cock in his hand and stroked it, watching her attention shoot toward the movements of his cock.
"I love watching that," she said. "Seeing you jack yourself off is such a turn-on for me."
"Does it make you wet?"
She dipped her finger into her own moisture and used it to coat the bud of her clit. "Oh, yes."
"Show me how you do it. Show me what you do when you're alone."
Her gaze went from curious to wickedly hot in a second. "I will if you will. Come closer."
He complied quickly and with much pleasure as it gave him an even better view of what she was doing with her fingers. And when she dipped one inside her pussy, his balls drew up and he tightened his fist around his cock.
"It's like watching a live version of porn, right in front of me," she said, lifting her feet and planting them on the bed. She arched her hips and the smell of sex filled her bedroom.
