by Kailin Gow
“No matter what, wake me,” he ordered and was out the door.
“You ready to go home?” Errol said. There was something familiar and cozy in the way he said it, as if they’d been going home together for so long; as if they were in the habit of ending a long, tired night together.
“I just have to sweep up the dining room and mop up here.”
Errol went in search of the mop and broom, brought them back and set both upright in front of Taryn. “Pick a handle… any handle.”
Her eyes met his. His gaze was playful and fun, and full of mischief. Without looking down, she reached for a handle, and Errol took the other. They both looked down.
“Looks like I’ll be sweeping the dining room,” Errol said.
“Fair enough.”
“I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.” He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t the slow, hesitant kiss of a potential lover, nor was it the deep, passionate kiss of an habitual sex partner. It was a loving peck on the lips that promised more than just a hot night in bed.
As he walked away, Taryn shook off the effect of the kiss and concentrated on the task at hand. Five minutes later he returned and put the broom away. He leaned against the counter and watched Taryn finish with the mop.
“Reminds me of my first jobs in a restaurant,” he said.
“I bet it’s been a long time since you mopped or swept anything.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but I admit it’s something I like doing every once in a while. Don’t tell the press, but I do mop up my own floors from time to time.”
“With all the employees you have, why?”
Running his hand over the smooth surface of the counter, he said, “I don’t know. Brings me back, I guess. It’s also a weird way of reconnecting with my restaurants. Funny the things you find when you get in there and mop the floor… things like a chipped ceramic tile, a scratched table leg or a tear on a seat cushion.”
Taryn chuckle. “Yeah, I know what you mean. In my case, though, I know all too well about the chipped tile and torn cushion. Right now, however, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You’ll get there. I have no doubts about that.”
“Thanks. Despite everything, that means a lot coming from you.”
His chuckle was filled with humility as he rolled his tongue in his cheek and looked up at the ceiling as if seeking a solution to a problem.
For a moment, Taryn thought he was going to flippantly comment on her remark, but he shook his head.
“Did I ever tell you it took me three years just to break even with my first restaurant?”
“No, but I’m not surprised.” Taryn finished with the mop, put it away and came to lean on the counter across from him and looked at him. “Did you ever think of giving up?”
“On a few lonely nights when I was tired of being broke, yeah, I thought about it. But then I’d get in that kitchen again, and… I’d just lose myself. Truth was, money or not, profit or not, I loved doing what I was doing.”
“You're the real rags to riches story; the typical American success story.”
He nodded. “You know, the first time I got a good review, I mean, the critics raved about the newest, hottest place to eat in New York… Hmph, I think I bought two dozen copies of that paper that day. I clipped out four of them. One I mailed to my Nana and the other three I framed; one went in the kitchen of the restaurant, and the other in the dining room where everyone could see. The other one I put up in my kitchen at home… if you could call that a kitchen. It was a three foot counter with a rusty old sink, a mini fridge that barely kept anything cold and a stove with only one working burner.”
“Do you resent your beginnings?”
There had been only a few times since she’d known him that he’d opened up and talked of his past. Those moments were always brief, and seemingly thwart with anguish.
“Sometimes.” He looked pointedly at her. “You resent anything about your childhood?”
Taryn gaped a moment, then pressed her lips together. She hadn’t expected the conversation to turn to her. “Not really.”
He shot her a mocking grin. “That’s definitive.”
“Well… resent… not really. I mean, obviously I would have preferred it if my father had stuck around… but then again…”
“Did that make you want to work harder to have control over your life?”
“Hmmm, I never thought of it that way.”
“I spent the first part of my life with no control at all.”
“Few of us have much control when we’re young,” Taryn said, trying to deny where he was going.
His eyes darkened suddenly, and she knew he’d gone to a dark place. “Maybe you're right, but at least when you have a home to go to, a bed to sleep in, and meals to fill your belly, you feel secure, safe. Just knowing that someone loves you and looks out for you gives you a certain sense of control, even if it’s limited.”
“All right. I’ll give you that.”
“Do you know what it’s like to be afraid, Taryn… to really be afraid? Not the kind of fear you feel at Halloween, or when you watch a scary movie, or when you see a spider in your room, but the fear of being smacked in the head by a drunk foster dick who just likes smacking little kids for the hell of it… because he can. You run away thinking it’ll be easier, better. Then you deal with the fear of roaming the streets at night with your stomach rumbling with hunger. The fear of all those strange men, winos and hobos, and bag ladies who point at you, laugh at you… want you.”
“No.” She shook her head, wishing there was a way of erasing all he’d been through.
“The fear that you’ll be picked up by the police and brought back to the foster home that is even worse than being on the streets.”
Taryn continued to slowly shake her head.
“Those years when I lived with Nana soothed that fear… a bit, but I think the hunger pangs stayed with me, even when she was filling my belly. When I got my first job at that restaurant, it was my first taste of freedom. I had some control, but it was fragile and delicate. If I made one mistake and slipped, I could lose it.” He reached back for a spatula hanging on a hook and idly flipped it back and forth, as if reliving those days flipping burgers. “I think it might have made me a little obsessive. I was so damned afraid of losing what little control I’d manage to get a grip on.”
Watching the play of his fingers along the spatula, Taryn felt the slow but determined welling of tears in her eyes.
“Nana gave me a bit of her savings, but I worked hard and saved every cent I could to finally open my own restaurant. Mine… sweat of my brow. There’d been days when I’d skipped meals so I could save more to open it up sooner, then more skipped meals as I tried to keep it going. Every cent mattered. Every cent was accounted for. I couldn’t afford to have a waiter fuck up an order. I couldn’t afford a busboy who dropped and broke dishes. I couldn’t afford a girlfriend who wanted too much, who didn’t understand where I was going, who would screw with my head.”
“You had a lot to lose. It’s understandable.”
“When I got my first taste of success, and when that success went on to be solid and secured… virtually guaranteed, I couldn’t let go of that control. While the media was putting up my pictures and I was being touted as the new celebrity bachelor every single female in America wanted to snag, inside I still felt like that little kid who’d wandered the streets aimlessly.”
“You felt you didn’t deserve your success?”
He frowned. “No. I’d worked hard. I knew I deserved it, but… I don’t know. More often than not I felt like a fraud. Not the chef side of me. That I knew I owned. But the famed restaurateur, the world renowned chef, the prized bachelor… that… it didn’t feel like me. It never felt like me. Don’t get me wrong. For a while it was fun. I got into it. I played the game, and played it well. I controlled… everything. For all my success, I was always afraid someone would find out I was just some homeless kid wh
o’d escaped his foster home. I was always afraid it would all go away.”
“So you maintained control for your own security.”
He met her gaze, his eyes filled with anguish and regret. “Obsessively.”
“Do you think you’ll ever be able to let go?”
“Sometimes I still have nightmares that it’s all gone, but…” He nodded. “I’m here now, willing to try. I’m not saying I’m perfect, but…”
Taryn licked her lips and reached out to take his hand. His fingers instantly laced through hers and he squeezed. He let go of the spatula and reached for a dirty lock of her hair. “You're beautiful, Taryn.”
She chuckled. “I’m a mess.”
“You're beautiful.”
For a moment, she dropped her gaze and stared at his chest. What was she to make of this confession of his? What did he want from her? What did she want from him?
Everything, a little gnawing voice said.
She met his gaze. “I want to make love to you, Errol.”
He cocked his brow and his lips twisted up into a wry grin, but his grin quivered with uncertainty and his eyes gleamed with tears.
Taryn ran her hands over his chest and trailed her fingers to the nape of his neck and up through his hair. He groaned and leaned into her hands, and she felt his release. When she leaned in to kiss him, he melted into her.
“Get up,” she groaned.
Obediently, he jacked himself up on the counter and Taryn quickly unfastened his pants. Considering his emotional state, she was surprised to see how hard he already was. Part of her was flattered she could get such a rise out of him while the other part questioned the validity of his story. Was he trying to pull her heartstrings? Was he just making excuses for how he’d treated her?
For the time being, she didn’t care one way or the other. She wanted him. She took his erection in her hand and caressed it as Errol hissed his lack of control.
“Are you ready to release your control, Errol?”
“To you? Any time.”
“Really.”
“Completely.”
She took him in her mouth, and as his body tensed and tightened, she knew the pleasure she brought him. His breathing was jagged, and erratic. Running his fingers through her hair, he pulled off the elastic that’d held it back, then gripped a fistful of hair as he held her close to him.
Just as she sensed he was trying to take over, trying to control the situation, she pulled back. “I’m the one driving tonight.” Letting go of him, she stepped back and watched his troubled features. Disbelief, longing, disappointment, hunger and a hint of anger all played in his eyes, his lips, his hands.
Taryn ran her hands through her hair and shook it out in a wanton fashion. She pulled off her shirt and tossed it on the counter beside Errol. Her breasts heaved with every breath. It was impossible for her to hide her hunger of him, her need to have him inside her.
Errol licked his lips and watched her, his gaze interested and daring.
With a coquettish twist, she turned her back to him, kicked off her shoes and slowly pulled her pants off. She looked over her shoulder to catch his gaze. His eyes were riveted to her ass. Though she’d not had the forethought to wear a sexy and inviting thong, her snug, white cotton underwear molded to her skin in a way she knew was pleasing to the eye.
Before she could turn around to face him, Errol jumped off the counter and came to hold her from behind. His erection played along her flesh, seeking her warmth.
“You said you’d relinquish control.”
“I have. You're controlling me. You're playing me like a puppet and I’m helpless,” he growled into her ear. “I have no control over what you make me do.” His hands came around to trail the length of her thighs and ride up to play within the confines of her panties. His fingers found the folds of skin, moist and hot, and waiting for him.
“Errol,” she said with mild reprimand. “The Health Board could have my license for this.”
He nibbled her ear. “I have connections. They’ll let it slide.” As he spoke, he tugged her panties down and deftly slid his erection inside her. Her erotic cry filled the kitchen, echoing off every wall and out of every pot and pan. She leaned over the cool counter in front of her while Errol gripped her hips and pounded into her like a man possessed.
His grunts and groans became howls and growls as the animal in him took over. Enraptured by it all, Taryn danced with him, meeting his every move.
When he finally spent himself, his orgasmic cry filling the air, he leaned over Taryn, kissed her temple and whispered. “Take me home, Taryn.”
After thoroughly cleaning up, they shut the lights off, locked up the restaurant and got in Errol’s car.
Without being told once where to go, he drove through the streets as if he’d been to her place a dozen times.
“You have a good memory.”
“Only for the things that are important to me.”
Once home, Errol followed her up without even waiting for an invitation.
“Which one is your room?” he said.
Holding his hand, she silently guided him to her bedroom. She wanted him again, for the night… all night. Decency told her that’d be impossible, but for the moment decency had little place in her heart.
Errol looked around her darkened room and smiled. “I like it here,” he said. He took his time, reveling in every inch of her skin as he undressed her. When he brought her to her bed, he was gentle, patient and more giving than he’d ever been.
Whereas they’d fucked dozens of time, in dozens of positions and in dozens of places, this time he made love to her, caressing her and kissing her with an emotion that’d never been there before.
Nearly a full hour later, spent and exhausted, he lay beside her, holding her as his fingers played through her hair.
“You have to go, Errol. Bobby’ll be back soon.” Decency had returned.
“Let me stay.” His request was soft and heartfelt. “I miss holding you… waking up to you.”
“I don’t want Bobby to…”
“He’ll never know I’m here. I’ll sneak out tomorrow morning, hours before he wakes up.”
Chapter 8
Even as she slept, Taryn’s skin tingled with the sensual sensations that had kept her up much of the night. Errol had made love to her, slow, soft, gentle and unbelievably giving. He’d brought her to such heights of joy and ecstasy, she was certain she’d never come back down. He’d murmured caring words in her ear, had caressed her skin with tenderness and had held her in his arms until he was ready to make love to her again.
Lying next to him, she smiled as she felt his hand on her hip and his body pressed up to her back. It was so good to be with him again, so good to feel the heat of his skin against hers.
His fingers tightened slightly as he stirred and Taryn immediately remembered where she was, sat up and looked at her bedside clock.
“Errol,” she shouted as she shoved him off her. “Errol, wake up. Errol, you gotta get out of here. And I’m going to be late for work. Damn, damn, damn.”
Barely opening his eyes, Errol turned onto his back, grinned and reached out to pull her to him.
“No, Errol.” She shot out of bed. “I’m serious. I don’t want Bobby to see you here. Get out of here before he wakes up and sees you.”
Sobering slightly, he sat up, and ran his fingers through his hair. “What time is it?”
“Late. Damn it, Errol, it’s too late.” She cringed as she thought of Bobby’s reaction should he find out about Errol.
“Don’t worry.” Errol got out of bed and pulled on his pants. Bleary-eyed he fumbled with the zipper while he looked around the room for the rest of his clothes. “Where’s my shirt?”
Taryn tiptoed to her bedroom door and listened for signs of life. “I think you left it in the living room last night. I’ll go get it.”
“No.” He slipped into his shoes. “Stay here. I’ll grab it on the way out. Don’t worry.” He
came up to her and pinched her chin as he winked. “I can be really quiet and discreet when I have to.”
He kissed her and she realized how badly she wanted to spend the day with him, how badly she wanted to spend her life with him. She shook her head, grabbed his arm and prepared to shove him out the door. “Bye, Errol.” She cracked the door enough to peek in the hall, concluded that the coast was clear and opened the door wide to shove Errol out. “Hurry.”
The moment she closed the doors behind him she scrambled to get dressed. She hopped into a pair of jeans and was reaching for her shirt when she heard voices in the hall.
Closing her eyes, she muttered, “No, no, no.” She tiptoed to her door and pressed her ear to the hollow wood.
“I, uh. Last night I…” Errol stammered.
“Look, Taryn has been through a lot lately and, don’t get me wrong, she’s a strong girl and can take a lot of shit, but with our mother in the hospital, she’s a little more vulnerable than she usually would be.”
“I have no intention of taking advantage of that vulnerability.”
“Really? You just walked out of that room and you're going to tell me that you didn’t take advantage of her?”
“You don’t understand, Bobby. Taryn and I…”
“Hey, man, maybe I didn’t spend any time in Paris and stuff, but I’m a guy. I know what we do when we get a girl alone in her room.”
“Hey, Bobby,” Taryn said as she popped out of her room and looked at the two men in her life. Bobby, in his lucky Santa Claus boxers and tube socks, and Errol, with the unbuckled belt of his pants hanging to the side and his shirt buttoned up crooked.
“Taryn, you okay?” Bobby said.
“Of course, I’m okay, Bobby. What do you think?”
“Well, you know how it is, Taryn. This guy comes in here all cool, and smooth, and sophisticated and stuff. I know how guys can be. I know how guys who look like him can be with girls like you.”
“Girls like me?”
“Yeah, you know. Like innocent and stuff. I mean, I know you ain’t no virgin or anything, but…”
