"Billy." Her voice was a plea, urging him on.
He squeezed out the washcloth over her shoulders, then used his palms to sluice the lather over her skin. Lifting her hair, he kissed her neck, the spot she loved, right behind her ear. He pulled her earlobe into his mouth, held it between his teeth.
When a soft whimper escaped her lips he climbed into the tub next to her, rolled her onto her back. Her mouth was open, and her chest heaved as if she couldn't get enough air in. He'd teased her enough.
Rasping his thumb over her clit, he watched her eyes squeeze shut as they always did just before she came. Her muscles clenched around his finger. He took her mouth, coaxed her tongue to spar with his.
God, he was so hard, but he refused to take his pleasure. Watching her was the most exciting thing he could imagine. She rocked and bucked against his hand, begging for release.
He slipped a finger inside her, and she exploded in shuddering spasms. Unable to tear his gaze from her eyes, he watched as they opened wide, dark as sin and full of wonder. He held her tightly as her body calmed.
His own orgasm could wait. Marissa deserved to be spoiled as long as he could after all that he'd put her through. He vowed not to lie to her, not ever again. He was through with his hurtful behavior. If he ever hoped to make things work with her, he had to do it on the up and up.
Billy filled Marissa in on the news about the food critic right before they arrived back at the restaurant a few hours later. He'd purposely waited as long as he could so the knowledge wouldn't douse the fire that had burned between them all day.
"Why didn't you share this tidbit earlier?" Her irritated tone made him wonder if that was the wrong strategy.
Nah. It was well worth the price he'd pay now. "I didn't see the point in making you worry any longer than necessary." When would she learn that he wanted to carry some burdens for her? It was for her own good, for Christ's sake. He climbed out of her car, slammed the door a little harder than he should have. "I figured you'd had enough stress in the past twenty-four hours. Besides, we've already worked out the specials for tonight. Everything will be fine."
She marched past him, unlocked the back door to the restaurant, and let it swing shut before he reached it.
Seemed like every time he tried to make things easier for her she resented his help, saw it as interference. The way he saw it, a man had a responsibility to clear the path for his woman, shoulder more of the burden. He knew better than to voice that sentiment, though. It would only ratchet up her anger. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the critic earlier, baby. I thought I was doing you a favor."
"Keeping me out of the loop is what always got you into hot water when we were married. Apparently, you've learned nothing about me since then.”
“I was only trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? Well, thanks for that, but I’ve had to learn to protect myself in the past year.”
Ouch. That sucker punch hurt. He held up his hands in surrender. “Truce. I’m sorry I underestimated you. It’ll never, ever happen again. I swear.”
She squared her shoulders, eyed him for a long moment, then gave her head an adorable little nod. “Fine.”
Satisfied that she’d forgiven him, he strode away, washed his hands, and went to retrieve his supplies from the pantry. As poured corn flakes and flour into the food processor to make the coating for his cornflake-crusted halibut with Aioli, he watched her chop off the ends of asparagus stalks for her roasted asparagus with balsamic butter. That side dish had him a little worried. If she did it right, it might just sway a health-conscious judge. But she was going with a chicken pilaf with dried currants and toasted almonds. His fish entrée would register less fat and calories, which might elevate his points higher, depending on the judge.
They barely spoke for long stretches. Ross made himself scarce, probably too afraid to utter a word to either of them with the thick tension crackling through the air in the kitchen. Billy moved past her on his way to the cooler, picked up her vanilla scent mixed into the garlic, cilantro and mint in the air. He slowed, pulled in another whiff, and despite himself, set a hand on the small of her back.
She flinched then immediately yelped.
“What?” His pulse quickened.
Gripping her thumb, she moaned. “Why did you touch me?” she shouted.
He knew better. He hadn’t even checked to see if she’d had a knife in her hand.
Blood dripped onto the floor from between her fingers. God, what had he been thinking? From the mess on the counter, she’d obviously been in the midst of slicing strips of grapefruit rind for her citrus sorbet. “God, baby, I’m so sorry. Let me see it.”
The pain etched on her face tore straight through him. “Ross,” he called at the top of his lungs.
The man appeared in seconds.
“Get the first aid kit. We might need a butterfly bandage.”
Ross hurried to the closet and came back with the box. Marissa held up her hand, and Billy gasped when he saw the laceration. She’d sliced herself just below her right thumb, on the webbing. And it was all his fault.
“I can’t do much with my right hand now.” She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “I guess you win by default.”
Her words kicked into his gut. “No, that’s not even a win.” He led her to the dedicated hand-washing sink and poured peroxide over her wound, then dried it and fit the bandage on.
“Just tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Ross offered.
“I’ll help you, too.” Billy lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers.
“It’s not the same.” Her brow furrowed. “These are my dishes. I have to make them.”
“You will be making them. We’ll just be your hands tonight.” He waited for her answer. Finally, she gave him a resolved nod. “What choice do I have?”
Half an hour later, they cranked out some of the best appetizers, entrees, and side dishes Billy had ever seen.
Sharon, one of the new servers, came into the kitchen to give her latest debriefing on who she thought was the critic. “There are two men at table four. I’m positive one is your guy.”
Marissa gave her eyes a roll. “I thought you said it was the woman at table eight a few minutes ago.”
“Could have been. But I think it’s one of the men seated at four.” The young woman crinkled her nose. “Or maybe it’s the old dude at the six-top by the window.”
Didn’t matter. Tonight, everyone was being treated to their very best.
***
Marissa stepped out of the shower hours later, glad to be rid of the smoky residue of the kitchen. All in all, she was quite pleased with how her menu had turned out. Excitement and trepidation swirled inside her. She might be ten thousand bucks richer as soon as Joel heard from his contact at the magazine. If she did win, she wondered if she really wanted to banish Billy from the restaurant.
As she dried off, he knocked on the door. "How are you doing?" His honey voice soothed away the rest of the sharp edges the difficult day had carved.
"A little better now, thanks." She smoothed lotion over her legs.
"I have a few tasty surprises for you out here, so come straight into the kitchen, okay?"
"Be there in a minute." She was used to eating late, although she usually grabbed something light. But she knew all too well how crushed Billy would be to go to the trouble of creating something wonderful only to have it left untouched.
Wrapping in her robe, she started down the hallway toward the kitchen. Halfway there, she noticed flickering yellow light ahead, heard soft music emanating from the room. She covered her mouth with her palm, held back the emotional tears. How sweet that he'd prepared a candlelight dinner for her. He still remembered how to pamper her, still knew when she needed him to be extra sweet.
He moved into the doorway and grinned, watched her walk toward him. In an open button-down shirt and a pair of shorts, he took her breath away. The smooth contours of his muscled chest, the ri
ppled stomach, and tan skin made her yearn to touch him. And from the glint in his eyes, he felt the same way.
When she entered her kitchen, she hardly recognized the place. Candles blazed from the counters and windowsill, dozens of them. The bistro table was pushed against the wall, and an air mattress lay on the floor, covered with several blankets. What exactly did he have planned? A shiver of excitement rolled over her body.
Billy tapped his phone, and the song that had played at their wedding filled the air. She shut her eyes and drew in a ragged breath at the first notes of When a Man Loves a Woman.
Circling his arms around her waist, he pressed her body into his as he swayed to the seductive beat. Marissa's head swam with reasons to say no, excuses to back out of the dance, but her heart overrode them all. His hand on the small of her back dipped down a few inches, and the contact raised her temperature about a hundred degrees. They moved in perfect harmony, as they always had, each knowing instinctively what the other would do.
The song finished and another started, Aretha belted out, You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman. Marissa's eyes watered as she laid her head on Billy's chest. The man was nothing if not a hopeless romantic. Burrowing into her neck, he trailed soft kisses along her collarbone. Ripples of untamed passion danced over her skin. She breathed in his manly scent, reveled in his touch.
Loosening the belt of her robe, she let him know how much she wanted him. He took the hint, untied the rest, slipped it over her shoulders, and hissed in a breath between his clenched teeth. His chest rose and fell as he stared at her nakedness without touching her. Every inch of her, every cell, every muscle tingled, yearned to feel his velvet skin on hers.
"I told you I had a treat," he said, grinning wickedly.
She narrowed her gaze, wondered what he had in mind. He motioned toward the air mattress. "Lie down."
Deep down, she loved it when he told her what to in the bedroom or whatever room they were using for a bedroom at the time. She lowered herself to the blankets, lay on her side, watching him.
Billy got on his knees beside her and produced a black scarf from his pocket, one she recognized as her own. "Do you trust me?"
Her heart caught in her throat. How could she trust him? He'd lied to her, stolen from her, sworn he'd changed his ways, and then done it all again. Staring into his bright blue eyes, she drew a deep breath, thinking about the man he'd been since he'd returned to Savannah. He'd fought for her, taken charge of things at the restaurant when she'd reached her breaking point. Yes, he was a changed man. The old Billy would never have acted so heroically. Without answering, she closed her eyes, let him blindfold her.
He turned her onto her back on the makeshift bed as her body vibrated with anticipation. She sensed him step away, and then glass clanged, the silverware drawer opened and closed. Finally, she felt his hot breath on her neck. Desire licked at her skin.
"Open your mouth." His tone was firm, his voice deep with authority.
Expecting his rigid arousal, she opened wide, but instead of his cock, Billy slid a spoon in covered in some sort of sugary liquid. "Tell me what you taste."
Rolling the thick sauce on her tongue, she tried to distinguish the sweet flavors. "Caramel and banana," she said. Letting the warm confection slide along her throat she picked up on more. "Rum, and a touch of…cinnamon."
"Your favorite spice," he whispered into her ear. Withdrawing the spoon, he let out a menacing laugh. "My turn to taste."
With a gentle finger, he smeared the sauce over her breast, drizzled it on her areola, then followed with his tongue. She arched her back, trembled with delight as he lapped at her skin, drew her nipple into his mouth, rolled it with his skillful tongue until she moaned her pleasure. After he'd licked her clean, she heard him open another jar.
"Let's see if you can figure this one out." This time, he slid his finger between her lips, coated in a slightly tangy sauce. She sucked it all the way in, held it against the roof of her mouth, wound her tongue around it, hoping her teasing bothered him at least a fraction of how much his drove her wild. She tried to sniff the aroma to help ascertain the mystery liquid. Something floral and fruity. "Pears?" she ventured.
"Very good." His voice was smooth, sweet as ambrosia. "And what else?"
She could tell from the hitch in his breath that she was getting to him. She sucked hard on his finger, swirled it with her tongue. "Mm?” she managed.
Withdrawing his finger, he twisted her onto her side and gave her ass a firm smack.
"Ow!" She stifled her giggle, but her backside stung. "Is that my punishment for not guessing correctly?"
"Yup. It's lavender, baby. My turn to taste it." As he'd done to the other, he dripped the stuff onto her breast, lapped it up slow, bathed her with his tongue and ratcheted up the heat a few more notches as she luxuriated in the sensations.
If he didn't move his attention lower, she'd explode, she was sure of it. When the third jar opened, she wriggled on the bed, squeezed her thighs together to slow the building moisture pooling there. How long would he make her wait? A finger slid into her mouth and she sniffed, rolled it on her palette. Spicy, sweet. "Ginger," she said.
"Mm-hmm. What else?"
She licked at his skin and delighted at his soft moan. Yes, this was definitely getting to him, too. "Butter, nutmeg, cinnamon." She swirled the flavors together, desperate for him to move on to the next tantalizing step. "Gingerbread cream."
"Very good." He slowly withdrew his finger.
She waited, could barely breathe. When he ran his hand gently along her inner thigh, she nearly screamed with yearning. But he wouldn’t be rushed. Torturously slow, he spread the thick dessert sauce along her folds, dabbed it on her clit. Teasing his tongue along her sensitive skin, he took his sweet time, despite her plaintive whimpers. A rush of liquid heat slicked her pussy.
Unable to hold back any longer, Marissa reached down and plowed her fingers into his hair, fisted bunches of his lush locks and tried to guide him nearer her entrance. He laughed, withdrew.
A second later, he roughly grabbed one of her wrists, then the other and pinned them over her head. Suddenly fabric wound around her hands, tight and unyielding. "What are you doing?"
"Forcing you to give it up."
She huffed loudly, unwilling to admit how much the game turned her on. Give what up?"
He snickered. "Control. You won't give it, so I have to resort to taking it." He yanked her bound wrists higher over her head, fastened them to something heavy. The table, she realized. "Untie me right this second."
"We're not through with your taste test." He slid a finger lightly along her side, stopped at her thigh, then climbed over her. "I want more dessert."
She felt the heat of his breath on her moist entrance, spread her legs more to give him freer access. Warm liquid dripped onto her inner thigh, around her pussy. He licked and prodded until she thought she might die from the pleasure.
She heard the crinkle of plastic, wondered what he was doing now. He dragged a rubbery strip of some sort across her skin. A plastic shoelace? She couldn't figure it out. Then it was gone. Or was it?
Billy slid a finger into her and she couldn't hold on another second. She melted into a quivering mass of ecstasy, powerful jolts of bliss wracked her body. He kissed her belly, the sensitive flesh inside her thighs, the swollen lips that shielded her sex.
As her orgasm subsided, Billy continued touching her, stroking a slick finger along her folds. He reached up and lowered her blindfold, motioned to her nether regions for the rest of the show. "Watch."
Taking hold of the end of a red string of licorice, he sucked it into his mouth and gently pulled, eased it out of her channel. The sensation undid her, and she screamed as an even more powerful orgasm exploded.
Spent and glistening with sweat, she panted, clutched the blanket for fear she'd incinerate on the spot. But Billy wasn't through with her. His eyes smoldered as he opened yet another jar of dessert sauce.
Billy got on his knees and faced Marissa as he frosted his cock with warm sticky sauce. Then he untied her hands so she could give him her full attention. She bit her bottom lip, and he knew she was still on board with his game. "Open wide," he commanded. "Real wide."
With a snicker, she did as he asked, took him slowly into her mouth, and sealed her lips around him. "Mm." Her tongue slid over the head and tore a pleasured gasp from his lips.
The hot, wet confines tightened around his cock, made his brain swirl with lusty abandon. She licked and lapped the confection off his erection. He shut his eyes, determined to savor every incredible moment. He loved that she'd always enjoyed giving him head, knew it excited her to rock his world. He'd saved this sauce for last, knew what it would do to her. "What do you taste?"
But her mouth was too full to answer. Sliding her tongue over and under, flicking it along the underside, she gave him the ride of his life. Her throaty moans of pleasure sent his heat level to the roof. When she ringed her finger and thumb around the base of his cock, he had to summon all his willpower to keep from coming.
She lapped the sauce from his rigid flesh. The pressure built in his balls, surged in his cock. Christ, how would he make it?
Keeping her tight grip on his erection, she stroked her tongue along the tip, stared up at him with not-so-innocent eyes. "Chocolate," she said, then swiped the underside with her lips. "Mocha." She gave him another flick of her tongue. "Vanilla and cinnamon."
He couldn't wait another second. Climbing on top of her, he spread her legs and thrust inside her. God, she felt so good, slick and tight. She raised her hips, rocked against him, and he knew he had to go for it. He rode her hard and deep. Her gasps heightened his excitement.
She clenched around him, ground her hips. "Oh, yeah, Billy. That's…so…gooooood." Her eyes fluttered, and her head rolled back. The knowledge that she'd had another orgasm gave him the impetus to let go.
Stars floated in front of his eyes as his seed spewed into her. Pleasure shot in every direction, electrified his body. Throbbing with ecstasy, he collapsed, a blob of quivering, satisfied flesh. He stared into Marissa's dark eyes and marveled at the perfect satisfaction he saw reflected in them, adoration even. Making love with her had always been so true, so honest.
Can't Stand the Heat Page 6
