by Lyric James
Whenever her parents had argued, all she had to do was go in the kitchen, stick a pair of earphones in her ears, and tune them out. Then, she’d find a recipe…and create. The kitchen and food were her only sources of comfort, the only things that took the bad memories of her childhood away.
And Blake Nelson was ruining it, creating an unfamiliar sexual chaos to her system. Her mind drifted to one of her favorite BDSM novels where the heroine was tied to a bed, arms and legs spread-eagled, and the hero did all kinds of sexually torturous things to her body with whipped cream and strawberries and chocolate. But instead of screaming to be let loose, the woman had reveled in it, was so turned on and wet that she begged for it.
Could Blake fulfill a fantasy like that?
No. No. No.
While he whipped the eggs, she got a larger pan, placed it on the stove, and put three pieces of bacon in it. The clinkety-clink of the whisk against the glass made her smile.
This was familiar.
This was normal.
Stop thinking about sex.
“Put in two tablespoons of milk and keep whisking.”
After he finished, he lifted the bowl and stood next to her, still beating the mixture.
“How’s this?” he asked.
Harper peered inside. “It looks good. Grab the dicer off the counter over there.” She motioned then flipped the bacon over when it began to sizzle in the pan.
He came and stood beside her again. “Now what?”
“Use it to dice up a little onion and mushroom. And the ham. Not too much though.”
After this weekend it would take months to purge the hot, sexy images of Blake whipping up eggs out of her mind. Blowing out a breath, she turned off the burner and removed the bacon from the pan, allowing it to drain on a paper towel.
“Is this good enough?”
She glanced over and saw that Blake had made three equal-sized portions of onion, mushrooms, and ham. “It looks great,” she said, handing him the bacon. “Finish patting these dry and dice these up too.” After adding salt and pepper to the egg mixture, she mixed it a little more. “Grab the butter. After that I think you’re ready to make your first omelet.”
Harper couldn’t help but zero in on his magnificent physique. The shirt he wore clung to his wide shoulders, and his deep bronze complexion reminded her of the homemade caramel mixture she made to glaze over her award-winning brownies. She couldn’t help but wonder if he tasted as wickedly delicious as the caramel did.
She licked her lips, and as soon as she did so, Blake turned around, butter in hand, a wide grin spread over his face. It made her toes curl around the edge of her sandals.
Common sense snapped her out of her stupor, and she turned, ignoring his gorgeous smile. “Put a little butter in the pan and turn it on. When it gets hot enough, pour in the eggs and let them cook a minute until the bottom starts to set.”
Blake kept smiling but did as she asked, handling the pan as expertly as he probably swung a hammer. Even though she didn’t want to really get close to him, she stepped to his side and watched the eggs harden inside the pan. “Okay now take this spatula and gently push one edge of the egg into the center of the pan with one hand while tilting the pan with the other to allow the still-liquid egg to flow in underneath.”
The muscles in his forearms rippled as he worked. She felt like one of those women standing on the other side of the street ogling construction workers with no shirts on.
From now on she’d think of him every time she made eggs.
Crap.
“Do it again, but with the other edges, until there’s no liquid left.” She waited a beat. “See how easily it slides around now.”
When his tongue slid out between his lips, shock held her in a vise grip.
Oh boy.
She literally made her gaze return to the pan. “Gently flip it over with the spatula and let it cook for a few more seconds.”
Blake took instructions well. She wondered…Oh no no no. She wouldn’t allow her mind to go there. At least that’s what she was trying to do until she glanced at the corner of his mouth and saw the tip of this tongue resting there. He was really concentrating on what he cooked, but the only thing her feeble brain registered was how that protuberance would feel sliding over her skin.
“Is it time to put the other stuff in yet?”
Oh yes, please put it in. Deep.
“Harper?”
Shit.
“Yes,” she said, more forcefully than she intended. “Put the…other stuff in now in a line right down the center, including the cheese, and then lift one edge of the egg with the spatula and fold it across and over so the edges line up.”
Harper stepped to the other side of the island now to give herself some distance, but instead of sitting at one of the stools, she went to the window seat overlooking the ocean. The farther away she got, the better. Spending this much time with Blake alone had done damage to her equilibrium. She’d gotten to a point where she wanted nothing more than to climb up onto the counter and let Blake have his way with her like in her favorite movie.
“Don’t let it get brown on either side. Flip it over if you need to,” she said as she sat and stared out the window.
A yellow-orange haze began to cast over the endless dark sea and reflected on every rippling wave. Whenever she got a chance to visit Dayna at the beach house, dusk was her favorite time of day. She never imagined sharing a perfect moment in time like this with Blake. And she loved this kitchen. Whoever designed it and put the kitchen on the top level instead of the bottom was a genius. To her, this window had the best views in the house.
As she glanced over her shoulder, he slid an almost perfect omelet onto a plate and presented it to her with another gorgeous smile. “A round of applause please, madam. I’ve cooked my first…but not last…omelet.”
She brought the palms of her hands together in a quiet clap. “Very good, sir. But you need to taste it first to be sure.”
Blake pulled a drawer open and grabbed a fork. She lowered her gaze but looked on, mesmerized as he used the side of the fork to cut into his creation. He speared the morsel, brought it to his mouth, and then stopped. Rounding the island, he walked over to her and held it out.
This cannot be real. But she leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around the utensil. When her tongue whipped out to catch the delicate string of cheese hanging over the side, she heard his sharp intake of breath. Exquisite flavor burst over her tongue. It might have been his first omelet, but it was superb.
“What do you think?” he asked quietly.
Think? There was no thinking while eating. There was no thinking when Blake Nelson was feeding her either.
“Another bite,” she demanded in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own.
Harper ate the proffered morsel with the same relish as the first, but couldn’t help thinking she’d like to taste something else. Something long, dark, and chocolate.
Oh God.
She was becoming a wanton.
“Mmmm,” she crooned and tried to mimic a little casual indifference. “Very good for a first-timer.”
Joining her on the bench, he cut into the omelet again. But instead of feeding it to her, he fed it to himself, and the carnal thought that he now tasted her, that his mouth was somewhere hers had been, sent need spiraling through her core.
Blake was ruining her for other men. No one would measure up now.
Hell…what men?
She hadn’t allowed a man near her in…shit…months, more months than she wanted to count.
If only… She caught herself smiling at the lascivious thoughts running rampant through her mind.
No no no.
Too dangerous. She needed to remember that.
Harper wouldn’t do anything stupid, like kiss his full lips to see if they felt as soft as she imagined.
She took another offered bite, slowly chewed, and swallowed. “Thank you.”
Then, they took turns
.
Wow.
Would he be as generous in bed?
Blake fed himself then Harper. It went back and forth like that until the omelet was gone. Who the hell knew eating could be so damn erotic? He didn’t say a word to her, just watched her eyes when he ate then her mouth when she took each piece inside.
It didn’t help they were sitting in front of the most glorious sky ever created in nature.
The night couldn’t get more perfect. Unless he kissed her. Then…then it would be… Damned if she didn’t want him to.
Before she knew it, the egg was gone, and the plate sat on the table, empty. Blake shifted forward and grazed a knuckle over her cheek. It could have been the most innocent of touches, but when her gaze locked with his, the gesture turned into something else. She watched his soft brown eyes morph to molten chocolate, and it made her quiver inside.
Blake had only meant to tease Harper. It’s what he did. The woman acted like a timid rabbit every time he got near her, and he rather enjoyed it when she began to fidget when he came around, and loved how she couldn’t stay in one spot for too long if he stood next to her.
It meant she wasn’t immune to him.
He wanted Harper, but he wouldn’t force her to admit her desire for him until he thought she was ready.
No one would ever call him an impatient man.
But she looked so sensuous and delicate sitting beside him that all his intentions went flying out the window like the seagulls littering the beach below the house.
Just one kiss, he vowed.
A tiny sample to satisfy his burgeoning thirst, and then he’d go back to being the Big Bad Wolf to her Red Riding Hood. The scant distance between them became nothing when he pulled her toward him, grabbed her by the waist and slung her legs over his lap until she straddled him.
He heard her gasp.
Then her lips parted with a breathless sigh, and it was the only invitation he needed. Blake leaned in and took her mouth, stroking it with his tongue. He groaned as her lush body melted into his.
She was so soft, her lips, her neck, the sweet underside of her ass. But it was the hard peaks of her nipples pressed against his chest that made him growl her name.
Tasting Harper was like dining on a seven-course meal, each course so delicious, it numbed the mind but heightened the senses.
The tight rein on his control began to unravel at the edges.
When the shock of fingernails bit into his forearms, he leaned back, but the desperation in her bereft hiss spurred him on. As her hands slid up to the back of his neck he stopped her, took one wrist, and brought it to his mouth and licked. She sucked in a startled breath, and her eyes widened. Her honey and cream flavor coasted over his tongue.
He barely registered the noise coming from the game room or the silent whisper of the waves crisscrossing over the sand through the open window. But the raspy hums coming from Harper’s throat sent a surge straight through his cock.
He moved from her wrist to the indention in her elbow, all the while watching every expression cross her face. The halter top and the skirt sliding up her legs exposed so much tantalizing skin, Blake didn’t know what he wanted to touch next, taste next, until her breasts swelled. He slid his finger along the fabric on her chest and goose bumps popped up over her skin. Leaning down, he blew a wisp of air in the crevice between her plump mounds before he teased her with his tongue.
When she gripped his shirt, he smiled. Nibbling his way up her neck, he heard her groan.
“You’re a seven-course meal all by yourself. Did you know that?”
When she shook her head, he slid his tongue along the ridge of her bottom lip. “And you taste… just like sunset. Sultry, intense, an orange fireball burning beneath a sky blooming with stars.”
Blake’s mind registered they were in the kitchen, knew that, at any moment, someone could walk in. But heaven help him, he wanted to fuck Harper right here, right now. This bench was nice, wide, and comfortable. It could work, but he resisted the urge to let his hands slip beneath the cotton of her halter-top. He fought the natural instinct to hold the delicious weight of her breasts in his palms.
He knew if he allowed his fingertips the pleasure of teasing the taut circle of her nipples already bursting against the material of her shirt, they’d be a mash of naked and tangled limbs on the nearest solid surface.
Blake broke off the kiss, and he felt her fingers grip his shoulders.
“Why did you…don’t…” she said breathlessly.
He dipped his chin until their foreheads touched and fought to push air through his lungs.
Answering her question…why had he stopped?...stalled in his throat when he heard a thundering tumble and a shriek. He jerked his head around and saw a body tumble down the attic steps.
“Oh my God, Stella,” Harper cried and bounded off him, racing toward the lifeless body lying on the ground. He followed, yanking his cell phone from his hip.
As Harper slumped down beside Stella on the hardwood floor, Ian clambered down the attic steps.
“911 What’s your emergency?”
Blake stood, taking in the scene as Harper and Ian attempted to get some kind of response from Stella.
“I need an ambulance to 555 Willow Beach Lane. My friend fell down the attic steps.”
“Is your friend male or female?”
“Female?”
“Her name?”
Blake crouched down, joining Harper and Ian to the floor. “Stella Lewis.”
“Is Ms. Lewis conscious?”
“No,” he said quietly into the phone.
Chapter Three
Harper climbed the steps to the beach house, Blake close on her heels. As she fumbled with the doorknob, he stopped her. “Are you okay?”
She brought a shaky hand to her forehead and rubbed. “I guess the last few hours are catching up with me.”
He rubbed the palms of his hands up and down her arms. “You want to take a walk on the beach before you turn in? Your body is still wired up. You need to do something to calm your mind down so you can sleep.”
She couldn’t agree more. Watching her friend tumble down the stairs from the attic had been like watching a horror show play out right in front of her, and she’d been helpless to do anything about it. Thank goodness she was going to be okay. At least physically. It had taken her, Dayna and their other friend Violet to convince Stella that Ian was crazy about her. But it had also taken all three of them to convince her driving to Miami to follow Ian back home could wait until morning.
Harper didn’t have any sisters or brothers.
The friendships she’d developed over the years with Dayna, Violet, and Stella were the one thing in her life she could count on. If she didn’t have them in her life…she’d have nothing, except her restaurant, and that was too painful to imagine no matter how much she loved being her own boss. To think she could have lost one of them tonight made her whole body shudder. An argument, fear and a stumble almost cost her friend her life. Now, Stella was determined to tell Ian how she felt.
She shuddered. Would it take a life and death situation to make her come to her senses as well about her and Blake?
“Hey, Princess. It’s okay,” he soothed. “Stella’s fine.”
Her lips began to tremble. “I know.” Crap, what was wrong with her? She never cried. If she refused to allow a tear to drop from her eye while living in the house with her parents, why the hell was she about to do it now?
She especially didn’t want to do it in front of Blake.
He shut the door behind them then swung his arm over her shoulder. “Come on. I know what you need.”
Unable to form a protest, she allowed him to guide her through the house, through his bedroom to the second-floor deck that had a double porch swing overlooking the beach.
“Sit down.”
Harper didn’t know if she enjoyed letting someone take care of her for once, or if it was the beautiful black waves of the ocean lit up w
ith sparkling stars, but when Blake sat next to her and pulled her feet into his lap, this moment, being with him, washed all the bad memories from the night away. “I’m not used to this.”
He slipped her sandals off and traced a fingertip along the bottom of her foot.
“What? Letting someone else take care of you?”
She arched her back as heat and pleasure slithered up her legs. “Something like that.”
“It’s okay to let someone else take the reins once in a while. If you did it more often, you might find that you like it.”
Why did he have the keen ability to know exactly what she was thinking? “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was twelve. It’s a hard habit to break.”
“Is that when your dad left?”
Harper could only close her eyes and nod as she pictured her twelve-year-old self crouched in the upstairs hallway a few feet away from her parents’ bedroom. Each word they yelled at each other cut a raw edge into the soft flesh of her heart. When her father slammed out of the bedroom, a suitcase clutched in his hand, the sound of his feet thundering down the steps had been like small bomb blasts going off inside her head.
After, she heard her mother weeping, begging her dad to come back. The pain of her mother’s cries had given her strength. From that moment on she’d vowed no one…no man…would control her fate, her destiny, or her happiness.
No man would ever make her cry.
The nightmare of that day blurred to nothingness when Blake slid one of his hands up her thigh as he continued to knead the bottom of her foot with the other. She released a shuddering breath as sparks shot upward from her toes. Even though his touch was feather-light, arousal brightened inside her.
The pressure increased as he used the pad of one thumb to work the arch of her foot and the other to draw lazy circles over her calf muscle.
A small knot of panic began to twist in her gut.
She was edging dangerously close to not only wanting something she’d denied herself for far too long, but also to needing it desperately.
Needing Blake.
