Just Roll With It (Perfect Dish Romances Book 4)

by Tawdra Kandle

  She gave a huff of laughter, but I knew she was intrigued. “Cocky as always, Vincent. I don’t like it when people—men in particular—presume they know better about what I want than I do.”

  “In this case, I do know better. If we were arguing law, I’d give you the benefit of the doubt. So now you should do the same for me.” I thought about what was inside the white bakery box, and my mouth watered. I wasn’t arrogant, but I knew when I did something well—and what was in that box was some of my best work, ever.

  “Fine. I bow to your culinary prowess.” She settled back in her chair. “But only because I know that if the dessert bombs, you’ll be even more motivated to make it up to me in other, more interesting ways.”

  I chuckled. “I’m not worried, sweetheart. I plan to blow your mind . . . in every way possible.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened, and she gave a little hum of anticipation as she craned her neck to look toward the kitchen. “Where is that waiter, anyway? Suddenly, for some reason, I’m impatient for my dessert.”

  Our room wasn’t huge, but the bed was, and honestly, did anything else matter?

  “That meal was divine,” Amanda sighed as she kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse on a chair. I bit back a smile, remembering suddenly the state of her bedroom at home and wondering if the same tendencies would carry through here. I’d have to watch where I stepped in the dark.

  “Yeah, mine was good, too.” I unzipped my bag and withdrew a small cooler pack. “Are you ready for dessert?”

  “Oooooh, yes, I am.” The tone of her voice didn’t leave any doubt about what she wanted, and a surge of intense need ripped through me. “Just let me get into something . . . a little more interesting.” She picked up her suitcase and headed for the bathroom.

  “By something, I hope you mean nothing,” I called as she closed the door.

  “I promise, you won’t be disappointed. Sometimes a little something is even better than a lot of nothing.” There was rustling on the other side of the door. “You just make sure my dessert is ready for me when I come out there, because I’m tired of waiting. For everything.”

  Those were the most promising words I’d heard in ages. “I’m on it.” I opened up the cooler pack and took out the bakery box, setting it on the nightstand next to the bed. And then, since she still wasn’t out of the bathroom yet, I unbuttoned my shirt, pulling it out of my waistband and leaving it open. During one of our many phone sex sessions, Amanda had confessed that she had a thing for me in unbuttoned dress shirts, and I’d tucked away that knowledge for a time such as this.

  The door creaked open, and Amanda emerged. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, which were bare—meaning I approved so far. Bare was always good. Then I realized that actually, they weren’t completely naked; there were actually tiny lace straps that held up the kind of nightie that guys dream of seeing on their woman.

  The material, whatever it was, was thin, shiny and clingy. Those were all perfect. It was red, which was the color I’d associate with this woman for the rest of my life. It dipped low between her tits and then cascaded to just below her ass. And fuck me sideways, there was a matching pair of skimpy lace panties.

  “I’m ready for dessert,” she said softly. “What do think? Am I properly attired?”

  “Baby,” I breathed. “There’s not one fucking thing proper about what you have on right now . . . which means, hell, yeah. It’s perfect.” I reached out to skim a finger down the slope of one exposed breast.

  “Ah, ah, ha.” She took one step back. “I was promised dessert. I want something sweet.” Climbing onto the bed, she crossed her legs, giving me a tantalizing glimpse between her legs. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to hold out, not with her boobs jiggling and her legs right there in front of me.

  I swallowed hard and sat down next to her, closer to the nightstand, where I had exactly what she wanted.

  “Close your eyes.” I touched the tip of her nose. “You want dessert? Close your eyes and show me how much you trust me.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes, but I saw her mouth curve into a half-smile. “Trust is earned, Vincent. It’s not something I just give away.”

  “Haven’t I done anything to earn yours?” I watched her closely, and so I noticed right away when her expression changed, softening.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, you have.” Her eyes drifted closed, and her lips parted, expectantly.

  I opened the small white box and took an appreciative sniff. The small pastries glistened in the room’s dim light as I lifted one between two fingers and slid it into Amanda’s waiting mouth.

  Her tongue darted forward to taste what I offered, and she moaned softly.

  “So good.”

  “Take all of it.” My voice was low and intense. “Open a little wider and take it all.”

  She obeyed, and I fed the rest of it to her, watching as she chewed with her eyes still shut.

  “It’s fabulous, Vincent.” At last she looked up at me again. “What is it?”

  “It’s called baba.” I licked my finger where a little stickiness remained.

  “What does it have in it?” She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.

  “Guess.” I turned the box so she could see inside. “Tell me what you think it’s made of.”

  She tilted her head. “I tasted lemon. And sweet. Almost like a doughnut . . . but not quite.”

  “You’re right. The dough is very similar. And yes on the lemon, too. The syrup it’s dipped in is made of limoncello.”

  “Mmmmmm. I love limoncello.”

  “Have another one.” I toed off my shoes and laid back against the pillows. “Traditionally, there’s debate about which liquor should be used—rum or limoncello. I don’t take sides, but we always use limoncello at Cucina Felice, because my uncle John makes his own and gives us a couple of cases a year.”

  “I’ve had some of your uncle’s limoncello at Ava and Liam’s house. It’s delicious.” There was still a little bit of syrup on her bottom lip, and I took advantage of that fact to pull her against me and suck that lip into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue.

  “Hey—watch the pastries. You’re crushing the baba.” She shifted to reach between us and push the bakery box out of the way.

  “Sweetheart, there’s only one baba I want to crush tonight.” I held her by the upper arms and kissed her, enjoy the taste of the sugar and lemon mixed on her lips and the way her boobs brushed over my naked chest. I felt her nipples harden, and I knew what I wanted to do next.

  Rolling us both over, I laid her gently on her back, taking a moment to enjoy the view. Her tits spilled out of the top of her nightie, and her face was flushed, her eyes luminous and her lips puffy from my kisses. Easing the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, I bared her breasts, watching in fascination as her nipples shriveled to points.

  “When I made the baba today, I happened to use a little extra syrup, so they’d have lots of flavor. I think maybe I just found a better use for that now.” I reached back into the box and ran my finger through the thin layer of limoncello glaze. Holding it up so Amanda could see, I touched it to her lip and then used the same finger to swipe over her nipples, leaving a little of the sticky residue on the peaks.

  My eyes never left hers as I lowered my mouth slowly and took one rosy tip into my mouth, humming in appreciation as I sucked.

  “So sweet,” I rasped. “Lemon and sugar and you. The perfect flavor combination.”

  Her pupils were dilated, and I saw her throat work as she swallowed. “Vincent . . .”

  “I got you, baby. I need another taste of that.” So saying, I trailed kisses to the other side and repeated the act, sucking hard on her nipple, even while I used my hand to caress the still-wet breast my mouth had just left.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Amanda.” I drew the lingerie material the rest of the way off her body until she was nude but for her panties. “I forgot how perfect you are. I don’t k
now which part of you to touch first.” I smiled crookedly. “Or maybe second would be more accurate.”

  She lifted one hand to brush across my chest. “Get naked, Vincent, and we’ll figure that out together. I want to feel you pressed up against me. I want to feel you deep inside me.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “Take off your clothes now. Please.”

  It only seemed right to reward her when she’d said please, so I shrugged off my shirt and tossed it to the side of the bed before I stood up and unhooked my pants, taking off my boxers at the same time as I pushed the khakis to my feet and kicked them away, along with my socks. My dick stood out from my body, straining toward Amanda, as eager for her as the rest of me was. Maybe even a little more.

  She reached for me greedily as I lay alongside her, her hands stroking and her fingers curling around me, pumping my cock and cupping my balls until I groaned. I fumbled blindly to slide my hand between her legs, grunting when I found her wet and slippery for me.

  I tugged the panties away, laughing a little as she cursed trying to get them off her legs. And then nothing was funny anymore, as I positioned myself between her legs and put my questing mouth on that hot and aching pussy that wanted me.

  She arched upwards, her fingers fisting in the quilt that covered the bed. I didn’t so much as pause; I licked and nibbled and sucked until she was gasping my name and clutching my hair, riding my mouth with a single-minded need that made me want to explode.

  Her orgasm was still rocking through her body when I reared back up and dove off the bed to find my pants, glad I’d remembered to stick one condom in there earlier. I had more in my bag, but no way in hell could I manage to take the time to find them now.

  “Let me.” She sat up on her elbows and extended one hand. Her fingers shook a little, but she took the small circle from me. “Let me put it on you.”

  Straddling her body, I crawled up until she could reach me, my breathing ragged as she rolled the condom over my throbbing flesh. Her hands cradled me, and she crunched her body up just enough to press one kiss on the flared crown.

  “Now, Vincent.” She fell backward, spreading her legs open for me. “Take me now. Fuck me hard and don’t slow down. I want to feel every inch of you.”

  I took my erection in my hand, giving it a few pulls before I positioned myself at her entrance and slid in just a little.

  “Amanda.” I held myself over her and touched her cheek. Her eyes met mine, and neither of us looked away. We were linked intimately, and yet I was somehow desperate to touch her more.

  As though she knew what I was feeling, she lifted her hand and laid it alongside my face, cupping my jaw. Instinctively, I closed my eyes and turned my lips to press into her palm, and then I plunged the rest of the way into her.

  Neither of us moved for a long moment. Amanda’s lips were parted, her cheeks were flushed and her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breath quickened. She arched her hips to meet me as her hands skimmed over my back and down to grip my ass.

  “Vincent.” She breathed out my name. “You feel so good. You make me feel so good.”

  I withdrew a little and pumped back into her even further, reveling in her gasp. “I know you said fast . . . and I could give you fast. But right now, I want to be . . . slow.” I pulled out again and then slid into her inch by inch, the muscles on my arms bulging with the effort. “I want you to feel me in you. I want you to live and die inside every second of pleasure. I want you to remember how fucking good we are, baby. I want to burn us into your memory.”

  She moaned and writhed, her nails digging into the flesh on my backside. But I sensed she wasn’t protesting what I’d said; rather, she was agreeing with me, enjoying every nuance and every movement.

  I dipped my head to capture one pink nipple between my lips, sucking it with great care and then kissing her breast just above the tip. My entire body was primed and ready to surge forward, to take the pleasure I knew was within my reach and to give Amanda the same—and more. But at the same time, for the first time in my life, I wanted to savor this. I wasn’t rushing headlong toward the inevitable conclusion; I was letting each touch, each sensation and each emotion course through me, giving each moment its own space and time. Somehow, that didn’t dull the experience. In fact, I couldn’t remember a time when I’d ever felt so alive and connected.

  We rode the swells together, sliding forward and pulling back in a rhythm that built into mounting passion. I felt both of us barreling to the edge of reason when Amanda grabbed for my hand, threading her fingers through mine, so that we were linked together in every possible way when I growled out her name, at the same time she gasped mine.

  And when we fell together onto the soft mattress, my arms were wrapped around her, holding on tight as though I would never let go.

  “Hey, you have a minute?”

  I looked up from my computer screen, blinking as my concentration broke. “Sure, Bryce. What’s up?”

  My boss lifted a stack of stapled white pages. “I just reviewed the deposition summary you did on the Coulson case.”

  “Oh?” My stomach did a small twisting somersault. “Was everything okay?”

  “Frankly, it wasn’t your best work.” Bryce came into my tiny cubicle office and shut the door. “I was kind of surprised. You usually nail these things. But you missed several key points, which I discovered when I went back over it today.”

  “I’m sorry.” My spine stiffened. I’d always hated being corrected or getting anything wrong, from the time I’d started school as a kid. It was part of what drove me toward perfection. “If you’d like me to go over it again—”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I just wanted to check in with you and make sure we’re not overwhelming you with work.” He sat on the edge of my desk and studied me, concern evident. “I have a vague memory of what the last semester of law school is like. I know there’s a lot of pressure on you. If you need to take some time off, or to cut back on your hours, please let me know.”

  Now I was even more mortified. “No, absolutely not. I’m really sorry, Bryce. I hate that I didn’t meet your expectations. I won’t let you down again.”

  “Amanda.” He held up one hand. “Please. That’s not it at all. This isn’t about me censuring you or threatening your job. We like you. We appreciate your work, which has always been exemplary. We expect wonderful things out of you in the future, and we hope that once you’ve passed the bar, we can offer you an associate position. That being said, I also don’t want to overburden you now.” He grinned and winked at me. “We’ll wait to do that when you’ve signed a long-term employment contract with us, and we own your life.”

  I tried to return his smile. “I appreciate your vote of confidence, and I promise, if I feel like I can’t handle something, I’ll let you know. But for now, I think I’m okay.”

  “All right, then.” Bryce stood up. “As I said, everyone likes you, and you have a reputation for your single-minded focus. One of the senior partners said the other day that you remind him of himself when he was starting out.”

  A little of my tension eased. “Really? That’s very flattering.”

  “Maybe.” Bryce’s expression sobered slightly. “I’m sure he saw it as a compliment, but considering this guy’s been through three marriages that ended in divorce and has five kids who don’t speak to him, largely because of that single-minded focus, I’m not sure he’s necessarily the example you want to emulate. Law is a wonderful career, Amanda, but keep in mind that she’s also a demanding mistress, if you let her take control. It’s important to cultivate an outside life and to respect the needs of those in your life.”

  I forced a laugh. “An outside life? I’m not sure I remember what that is.” An image of Vincent, feeding me babas dripping with glaze, flashed across my mind’s eye, and I banished it immediately.

  “That’s my point. It’s only going to get harder from here on out to find that balance. So learn it now.” Bryce opened the door. “I’ll let you
get back to work.”

  After my boss had walked away, my shoulders sagged. That deposition summary . . . I’d worked on it the Sunday night I’d gotten home from my weekend with Vincent at the inn. I’d been happily satiated, relaxed and reluctant to work, but since I knew I was already a little behind on getting it done, I’d rushed through it. Apparently, it showed.

  Bryce had just pointed out what I’d already been trying to push to the back of my mind, and that was the fact that what I’d feared was coming to pass. I was losing my drive. I was letting stuff like sex and food and pleasure come before work and school, and I’d never done that before. I’d never even been tempted. No one had been important or compelling enough to tempt me. Until Vincent DiMartino had suggested that maybe we could do this, whatever it was we were doing.

  Vincent was a huge complication in my life. There wasn’t any doubt about that. Even living ninety minutes away, his presence intruded on my concentration all the time, mostly because if I wasn’t remembering our time together, I was dreaming about the next chance we’d have to be with each other. He was a force of nature, and I was helpless in his wake. I couldn’t say no to him . . . even when I knew I should.

  That was fucking terrifying to me.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, mostly because I had a stern talk with myself and made sure I only thought about work. I checked and double-checked everything I did. I went back over a couple of the case files I’d handled recently, just to make sure nothing else was going to come back to bite me in the ass. The last thing I needed was to earn a reputation as an incompetent slacker.

  By the time I reached my apartment, I’d come to the grim conclusion that I needed to have a conversation with Vincent. I had to back away. Cool things down. I was going to tell him that we needed to take things between us down a notch, because I couldn’t handle failing. It was all well and good for Vincent, who had a guaranteed job at his family’s restaurant, but I still had a few more months of school to survive and a bar exam to pass, not to mention a position at the firm to keep in the meantime.