by Zuri Day
She turned off the car, got her purse and leather folder, stepped out, and yelped. Her high-heeled foot was instantly covered in icy snow. “Grrrr.” She put her folder over her head and teetered down the street to number 186. She opened the gate and walked into the small concrete yard. The icy chill from her wet feet rose up the back of her legs and skittered along her spine. She pressed the doorbell and tried to keep her teeth from chattering.
Moments later, Mitch opened the door. “Hey. You made it. Come on in.” He took a look beyond her. “It’s really coming down.”
“Yes, I totally was not prepared,” she said, squeezing past him and catching a heady whiff of his masculine scent.
Mitch shut the gate and walked in behind her. “Let me take your coat.”
“I’ve got to get out of these shoes. I hope you don’t mind.”
He glanced down at her long legs to her wet feet. “Of course not. I’ll get you some slippers.”
She took off her shoes and set them by the door while he hung up her coat in the hall closet.
“This way,” he said, leading her into the main living area.
She looked around. The three-story brownstone maintained its original charm from the hardwood floors to the built-in mantels and towering mirrors. One room opened onto the next separated by mahogany arches. It was truly a man space with rich dark brown leather furnishings and standing lamps. The living room opened onto a formal dining room with a built-in china cabinet and a six-foot dining table. Beyond she could see the kitchen and knew instinctively that it would be the jewel of the home. The aroma of something spectacular awakened her taste buds. Her mouth watered and she realized that her nerves had kept her from eating all day.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get those slippers.”
He went out into the hall and up the stairs. Cara took a moment to look around some more. Clearly he loved reading as much as cooking. The bookshelf was filled from top to bottom with books—the majority of which were mysteries and autobiographies. His other passion must be music. The sound system was something right out of Technology Now magazine. The wall-mounted television had to be at least fifty inches. She wondered if he was a sports buff. The only photographs were of Mitch at the opening of his restaurants, several with him and celebrities, and several culinary awards were framed as well. There was nothing that spoke to the man beyond his work or the people involved in his life. They did have that in common. She was her work as well.
“I know these will be too big. At least I hope so,” he joked, entering the room, holding up a pair of slippers in one hand and a pair of socks in the other.
She smiled. “Yeah, I kind of think so. I’ll take the socks.” She sat on the club chair, unfolded the white and gray sweat socks, and gratefully put them on. Instantly she felt better, and the sensation of having something of his on her body only intensified the feeling of warmth. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem. What can I get you to drink?”
“Oh.” Her brows rose a bit. “Hmm. Wine?”
“Coming right up.”
Why did she say wine? This wasn’t a date, it was business.
Mitch crossed the room to a closed cabinet, opened it, and perused the racks of wine.
“Impressive.” Cara came up behind him.
He glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled. “One of my other hobbies.” He plucked a bottle of Chardonnay from the rack and took out two long-stemmed glasses from the bottom shelf. He handed her a glass, opened the bottle, and poured for her, then himself. He raised his glass. “To a very successful partnering.”
Her stomach wobbled. She knew what he meant, but it was how he said it. She touched her glass to his.
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “This is wonderful.”
“Glad you enjoy it. Would you like the tour?”
“Absolutely.”
“I tried to keep as much of the originality of the house while still making improvements, like insulation, central heat and air, and electrical wiring to bring everything up to code.”
They walked through the living-room space into the formal dining room. The details were incredible, from the heavy wood to the stained glass above the archways. As she’d expected, the kitchen was the hub of the house. It was totally state of the art from the massive double oven and six-burner stove, the two-door stainless-steel fridge, and matching freezer, and an island inlaid with a wok and sink. Glass cabinetry showcased the rows and rows of condiments and serving dishes. Gleaming pots and pans hung from racks in the ceiling, and the workspace wrapped around the entire kitchen.
“Wow,” was all she could come up with as she took in the spectacular space. “This is amazing.”
“Through here is what was a small shed that I turned into a laundry room.” He opened a door at the far end of the kitchen. A full-sized washer and dryer, with a table for folding and shelves for supplies, were neatly tucked in the room. “There’s a small backyard with a trellis, which will be hard to see right now.”
He closed the door to the laundry room and eased by Cara. His breath hitched a beat when her breasts inadvertently brushed against his chest. “I’ll . . . show you upstairs.”
He led the way up the staircase that opened onto a large sitting room that was furnished in the same warm browns with a hint of taupe accents. Beyond the sitting room was a small den that he’d converted to an office space with all the bells and whistles.
“Very nice,” she managed, still feeling the tingle in her breasts from the contact with his hard chest.
“There’s one more floor to see.”
They went to the third floor that housed two enormous bedrooms, an adjoining master spa bath, as well as a guest bathroom. His scent filled the spaces. She inhaled deeply, allowing the maleness of him to enter her senses.
He turned to her and her heart fluttered. The penetrating look in his eyes was akin to hunger and her body responded.
“What do you think?”
It took her a moment to recover. “You . . . have an amazing home.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sure I’ll have no problem putting it on the market for a quick sale. I’d like to take some pictures.”
“Sure.”
“My camera is in my bag downstairs.”
“Let’s get it. I want to check on dinner.”
“Dinner?”
He tossed her a casual look. “I thought we could talk over dinner. That is, if you have time.”
She swallowed. Wine. Dinner. A gorgeous man whom she ached for. What could be wrong with that? “Sounds fine to me. And whatever you’re fixing smells delicious.”
“Great.”
They returned downstairs and Cara retrieved her camera.
“Feel free to wander around. Take as many photos as you want.” He strode into the kitchen.
Cara spun away and momentarily closed her eyes, willing her heart to be still. She was sure she was reading more into his hospitality than what was really there. And what she needed to do was stay on task and shake off the erotic notions that were running havoc in her head.
She began photographing the rooms, taking several shots of the same spaces from different angles. She spent more time in his bedroom than what was probably necessary. It was totally male, with no sign of a woman or a woman’s touch. A pair of jeans was casually tossed across a side chair. His sneakers were in a corner near his closet. She took a quick sneak peek and was instantly overcome by his presence. She ran her fingers along the row of shirts, jackets, and suits, and imagined him putting them on and taking them off.
She shook her head and shut the closet door.
“There you are.”
She jumped and spun around, holding her hand to her chest. Mitch stood in the doorway.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He studied her for a moment. “Find everything you needed?”
She blinked, lifted her chin, and forced a shaky smile. “Yep, all done.”
“Right on time. Dinner’s ready.” He tossed his he
ad toward the door and she kept her eyes on her feet as she brushed by him to get out.
“I thought we could eat in the kitchen if you don’t mind. It’s a lot less formal.”
“Sure.” She tilted her head to the sound of very soft music playing in the background. “Kirk Whalum?”
Mitch grinned in appreciation. “Good ear. You like him?”
“Very much. I think I must have purchased his CD three different times because I wore it out.”
“That’s a fan. Come on, let’s eat.”
She slid onto an upholstered barstool at the L-shaped counter. He’d already put out dishes and cutlery and a fresh bottle of wine. White linen napkins gave the otherwise casual setting a sense of style.
“What’s on the menu?”
“Ah.” He held up a finger. “For the appetizer, we have fresh oysters steamed in my very special vinaigrette. For the main course, lightly grilled asparagus, mushroom risotto, and baby veal chops cooked and seasoned to perfection.” He took a slight bow. “I hope it meets with your satisfaction, madame,” he added, throwing on the charm.
Cara giggled. “I’m sure that it will.”
Mitch made quick work of placing the serving dishes on the table and prepared their plates.
“Oh, my goodness. These oysters are incredible.” She closed her eyes in satisfaction as the array of flavor burst in her mouth. She could have easily made a whole meal of the appetizers until he presented the main course. Heaven. That was the only word to equate with the food. Every morsel was mouthwatering, with hints of flavors that heightened the senses.
Mitch watched her from beneath his lashes. Everything about her totally turned him on from the way she held her fork, the way her lips parted to take in a mouthful of food and sucked in the oyster from its shell, to the way her eyes fluttered closed as she savored each bite. Watching her was as much an aphrodisiac as the oysters.
“This is . . . there are no words.” She tapped the corners of her mouth with the napkin and reached for her glass of wine.
“I love to see a woman who enjoys eating.”
Cara nearly choked. The wine caught in her throat, then went down. She blinked away the water that filled her eyes.
“Are you okay?”
She bobbed her head. “Fine. Thanks.” She drew in a calming breath. “I can’t imagine that you cook like this every night.”
“No.” He took a swallow of his wine and set the glass down. “But I like to try new things when I have time.” His gaze raked over her.
“Is this a new recipe?”
“Yes, tonight is the first time. And since you like it, it won’t be the last.”
She felt herself grow damp between her legs and her clit jumped to attention. She pressed her knees together.
“We can finish our wine in the living room and talk business.”
He picked up the bottle and extended his hand to help her from her seat. His fingers wrapped around hers and she felt as if she would melt from the heat of his touch. Once on terra firma, he released her and turned away. She willingly followed.
Mitch took fresh glasses from the cabinet and set them on the coffee table. He lifted the bottle toward her in question.
“Yes, but just a little. I have to drive.”
“Speaking of driving”—he went to the window and looked out—“it’s really coming down out there.”
Cara joined him at the window. “Oh no.”
“Where are you parked?”
“Down the block.”
“Well”—he glanced down at her feet—“you certainly can’t go out there now. Hopefully it will let up soon.”
She groaned.
He looked down at her. “You’re more than welcome to stay. I do have an extra room. If it comes to that.”
They were standing so close. She could feel the heat rise from his body and see the lights reflected in his eyes. He reached out and fingered a stray lock of hair that dipped by her cheek. She held her breath. His fingertip trailed to the rapid beating of the pulse in her neck and she nearly came on herself.
She knew she should move, step away. But she couldn’t make her body respond. And then the world vanished from her line of vision as he came closer, surrounded her, and his mouth tasted hers. He hummed deep in his throat and like a trigger being pulled she was shot through with a need that made her weak.
His arm snaked around her waist when he met no resistance, and he pulled her flush against him and deepened the kiss with a flick of his tongue. The contact made her gasp with pleasure and she opened her mouth to let him in.
The mixture of heady spices and the sweet flavor of the wine mingled and danced together, creating its own unique flavor that they wanted more of.
Mitch cupped the back of her head and threaded his fingers through her hair, kissing her with a hunger that stunned him with its intensity. His body came alive for her, hard and pulsing and needy.
Cara’s head spun. Her body willingly molded to his in a way that was familiar, as if they were the other half of a whole. Her inner thighs trembled and her pulse roared in her ears.
Mitch broke away, breathed hard. He rested his forehead against hers to give him time to stamp down his erection that threatened to erupt. “Stay,” was all that he could manage. He dared to lift his head and look into her eyes.
“I . . .”
“Stay . . .”
This was some kind of dream or an excerpt that you read in a romance novel. She didn’t think she said yes, but she didn’t say no either as he held her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom.
Chapter 6
Once they’d crossed the threshold of his bedroom and his king-sized bed materialized in front of her, the reality of what she was doing took hold. She was on the verge of going to bed with a client, which went against the very values that she prided herself on, not to mention that she barely knew him.
Mitch sensed her stiffen. He stood in front of her and his arms enveloped her. “I want you, Cara,” he rasped deep in her ear. “But only if you want me.”
Her heart thudded. She did want him. There was no denying that. She glanced up at him and whatever lingering doubts she may have harbored in her soul evaporated under the blaze of his eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
That was all he needed to hear. He gently pulled on the tie of her dress and it fell open, revealing her lush curves barely covered by a midnight blue demi-bra and matching thong.
Mitch groaned with pleasure. “You’re beautiful.” He lowered his head to kiss her before trailing his lips along her neck and down toward the rise of her aching breasts. His tongue carved a hot path along her exposed flesh that seemed to sizzle under the onslaught of his mouth. He tugged her dress from her shoulders and it dropped to the floor. He pulled her hard up against him, cupping her rear in his palms to give her the full measure of his need for her.
He backed up toward his bed, pulling her with him. He tossed the comforter to the side and eased her onto the bed. He stood above her and began to undress. When he finally stood naked in front of her, she stopped breathing. His body was a work of art from the sculpted shoulders, rock-hard abs, thick, muscled thighs, and powerful legs. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from what awaited her. His cock was long, thick, and insanely hard. She couldn’t imagine taking him inside her body. But she wanted to; she needed to.
Cara reached out and touched him. His breath hitched. Her fingers encircled him and he felt like silk over granite even as it pulsed with life beneath her touch. She reveled in watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the clenching of his jaw as she stroked him.
Mitch felt his knees weaken, but the pleasure was so intense that he didn’t want her stop. But she had to or he’d never last. He gripped her wrist. Her eyes flashed up to his. Her lips parted. The strength of his hold forced her back onto the bed and before she could react he was above her and between her legs.
He tugged on the straps of her bra and brought them down
over her shoulders, which only pushed the mounds of her breasts up higher. He feasted on them as a man starved for sweet fruit and her body shuddered in response.
She moaned and he suckled her even more while his hands skimmed down her body. His long fingers sought and found her wet slit and he slid a finger inside of her.
Cara’s body arched to his touch, bent to his will, turned itself over to him—totally. And he took what he desired, slow and steady, burning her flesh with his mouth until he reached her center. The thin strings of her thong were no match for him as he drank the nectar of her.
Her thighs trembled and she gripped the sheets in her fist, but that didn’t stop her cries from ripping through the torrid air.
Mitch held her firmly in his hands and he tasted and tasted and teased and licked her into utter submission.
“Ohhhh. Ahhhhh.” The cords in her neck tightened as jolts of pleasure streamed through her from the soles of her feet, up the backs of her legs, to explode in a blinding light of unspeakable release. Tears sprung from her eyes from the sublime ecstasy of her climax.
The world spun. Nothing was in focus. Aftershocks rippled through her. She had a sense of Mitch reaching around her to his side table. She heard the sound of something tearing and then she felt him.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and where she was once empty she was filled with him; every inch of him forcing all the air from her lungs.
Incomprehensible words he whispered as he moved in and out of her, building a steady rhythm, which she began to match. And they danced, they mated in a ritual older than time, but they made it new; they made it their own.
She draped her legs along his back, bringing him deeper inside her walls. His groans escalated, grew in timbre and intensity along with the power of his strokes. She felt her own quickening and feared that she would break into a million pieces if she came again with him buried so deep and so thick inside of her.
His strokes grew faster, harder. He gripped her hair and slashed his mouth across hers. She bucked hard, locked her legs around him, and he exploded. His deep, guttural cry set her off and an orgasm flashed through her that stiffened her limbs as if she’d been electrified and her walls sucked and sucked until he was drained.
