Huddle with Me Tonight (Kimani Romance)

by Farrah Rochon

  “We’re having a gala at the museum next weekend,” the woman said. “It would be wonderful if you and Torrian could make an appearance. You’ve become a hit with New Yorkers.”

  The museum. That was it. The woman’s family had funded an exhibit on Asian culture at the Museum of Natural History.

  “I’ll talk to Torrian,” Paige answered. “I’m not sure what his schedule looks like, but if we can both make it, we will.”

  “Wonderful,” she answered before drifting to another group of guests. Paige recognized two of them as the leads for a revival that had just closed on Broadway. Both had won the Tony back in June.

  “How are you holding up?” A mixture of relief and desire licked up her spine at Torrian’s soft whisper. “Are you ready to meet Stephen?”

  “I guess,” Paige answered, tamping down the urge to throw up, despite the fact that she hadn’t eaten a thing in hours. Maybe that’s why she was feeling so lightheaded.

  “Just be yourself,” Torrian encouraged.

  She nodded as she followed alongside Torrian to the man she’d been surreptitiously studying since the moment she’d caught sight of him. He was much younger than she’d assumed, with only a slight bit of gray edging the hair at his temples.

  “Torrian,” Stephen Cambridge said with the enthusiasm of a true fan. “Happy you could finally make it.”

  “So am I, Stephen. I rarely get out here these days.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. I take the ’copter out here every weekend. The city is crazy.”

  “Well, if I had this to come to,” Torrian gestured to their opulent surroundings, “maybe I would hit the Hamptons more often. Stephen, I want you to meet the other half of the Playing with Fire cook-off, Paige Turner.”

  “Yes, yes.” He transferred his drink to his other hand and held out a deeply tanned palm.

  As Paige shook his hand, all she could think was this man held the key to her future. After years of working like a maniac, freelancing with small, unknown publications, submitting articles to national magazines—which were summarily rejected—Stephen Cambridge had the power to make all her dreams come true.

  Torrian excused himself as another guest called him away.

  “I’ve been reading up on your work, Ms. Turner,” Stephen said.

  “Please call me Paige,” she told him, her heart suddenly beating an aboriginal tribal dance in her chest. Calm down.

  “You have the type of writing voice that appeals to a broad audience.”

  “I try to keep it current but at a level that those not of the X-generation will understand.”

  “I hear you’re the one who initially started the blogs at Big Apple Weekly. Pretty progressive.”

  “It took some campaigning, but once I convinced Jory and Peter that it would bring a younger audience to the magazine, they were on board.”

  “You’re willing to do what you need to do in order to get the job done. I’ve noticed that about you. It’s the same with the cook-off. You go the extra mile.”

  Paige clenched her fists tight in an attempt to release the built-up energy shooting through her veins. Stephen Cambridge was throwing off nothing but good vibes.

  “I love what I do,” Paige offered. “And I take my work seriously.”

  “I—”

  “Stephen, can you—” A woman came up to them, interrupting his next statement. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Paige, this is my wife, Caroline.”

  Paige extended a hand. She had to force her eyes not to widen at the bling shimmering along Caroline Cambridge’s flawlessly manicured fingers.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to steal Stephen away. A couple of our guests have to leave early.”

  “No need to apologize,” Paige said. “I’ve monopolized enough of Mr. Cambridge’s time.”

  “Not at all,” Stephen said. “Actually…” He switched his drink again and stuck his free hand in his pocket, retrieving a business card. “Give my assistant a call. If you have a few minutes, maybe after one of the tapings of the show you can drop in at the office. I’d like to discuss a few things with you.”

  Paige clutched the business card as if he’d just handed her the Holy Grail. As the couple walked away, she expelled a huge breath. Torrian was by her side in a heartbeat.

  “Well, you’re still breathing,” he said.

  “Barely.” Paige laughed.

  “How did it go?” he asked. “I tried to stay close, but I didn’t want to make you too nervous.”

  “Honestly, once we started talking, the nervousness went away. He wants me to come to his office,” she said, unable to keep a huge just-got-a-car-for-my-high-school-graduation-present smile from lighting up her face. It was all Paige could do not to squeal in delight.

  “Hmm, I guess we’ll have to figure out a way to celebrate,” Torrian drawled seductively in her ear. Ho-kay. There would certainly be a bit of squealing in delight tonight.

  “What do you say we do a bit more mingling, then get out of here? You’ve accomplished your goal for tonight.”

  “And then some,” Paige said. “I never expected to come out of this with an invitation to meet with him at his office. Thank you for doing this, Torrian.”

  “Happy I could be of service.”

  Paige tried to tear herself away from his hypnotic gaze, but it was no use. She knew if anyone was paying attention to them right now, their “just costars” facade would be blown to smithereens.

  He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers. “Forget mingling. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Torrian Smallwood!”

  Paige heard Torrian hiss through his perfectly straight teeth before turning that brilliant smile on the man who’d just walked up to him. Paige recognized him; a local personal injury attorney who specialized in automobile accidents and advertised that “I don’t get paid until you do” on his commercials.

  If the fervor in which he attacked Torrian was any indication, he was also a huge Sabers fan. It seemed to be the case with most of the guests in attendance tonight.

  The irony continued to baffle Paige. These people were some of the wealthiest she’d ever encountered. The majority of them could buy Torrian Smallwood and a number of his teammates without putting a dent in their hedge funds, yet they treated him like a god.

  It couldn’t be his star power that drew them in. Many of them were stars in their own right. Was it his athletic ability they found so fascinating? People glommed on to him, and Torrian handled it all with a patience and grace Paige couldn’t help but admire.

  Maybe that’s what made him such a popular player. Paige had seen her share of obnoxious jocks who thought the sun rose and set on their behinds, but that wasn’t Torrian. The most obnoxious thing he’d ever done was respond negatively to her blog, and she now knew why he’d had such a strong, knee-jerk reaction. It was more about his sister’s happiness than his own bruised ego.

  Paige caught his eye as he stood several yards away, signing an autograph for another face she recognized but couldn’t place. Torrian sent her a sly wink as he posed for a picture.

  “Paige,” the heavily tanned, slightly balding man motioned for her. “Why don’t you get in here?”

  Paige faltered. She still wasn’t used to people she’d never talked to before addressing her as if they had known her for years. She’d had the occasional fan catch her on the street, but it had been nothing compared to the notoriety she now had because of the show.

  She joined the picture, and found herself being passed around to several guests who wanted pictures with the two stars of Playing with Fire.

  “It gets easier,” Torrian whispered in her ear after what she hoped was their last photograph.

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the attention.”

  “You will.” He shrugged. “There are perks. You can get away with a whole lot of things you’d never be able to say otherwise.”

  “Like you raggin
g that guy over his Hawaiian shirt?” She laughed.

  “Exactly.” Torrian grinned. “He laughed it off like it was this huge joke, when in fact that shirt was butt ugly.”

  “You are so bad.” Paige chuckled.

  He leaned over and in a deep, seductive voice, said, “But you have to admit I’m also really, really good.”

  Tremors sailed down her spine as a concoction of something warm and tingly started brewing in the pit of her stomach.

  Torrian stepped back, a touch of wicked still tipping up the edge of his lips.

  “How much longer until we can leave?” Paige asked in a rush of breath.

  “As soon as we can make it out the door without people harassing us,” he answered.

  They had to dodge a few people on the way out, but Torrian was as skillful dodging the party guests as he was dodging an opposing defense on the field. They made it back to the beach house in record time, and were naked and in his bed in a matter of minutes.

  Paige awoke an hour later to the aroma of something chocolaty and…spicy?

  She wrapped herself in Torrian’s bathrobe and padded barefoot out of his room. She found him in the kitchen, his back to her as he stood at the island stove in nothing but a towel and the thin gold chain that had a permanent place around his neck.

  Two recessed lights shone down on him. The muscles of his sculpted back undulated with his movements as he stirred something on the stove.

  Need pulsed low in Paige’s belly as she remembered the texture of his skin as she gripped his back while he pumped into her over and over and over. It was all soft and warm draped over hard and powerful.

  Paige pulled in a loud, shaking breath. It was either that or collapse in a dead faint.

  Torrian turned at her intake of breath.

  “You’re awake,” he said, standing there looking like every single fantasy she’d ever had.

  Paige stepped down the two steps into his sunken kitchen, and sauntered over to the huge marble island. It was big enough to hold a six-burner stove, and a sink with a chrome, gooseneck faucet. The island dropped off to a lower tier that seated four stools.

  “It was your cooking that did it,” Paige confirmed, unable to stop herself from wrapping her arms around his waist and planting a gentle kiss on the spot between his shoulder blades. His back arched instinctively and he sucked in a gasp.

  “We left Cambridge’s place before we could eat dessert, so I thought I’d make some for you,” Torrian explained.

  “You mean I get more than what I just had back there?” She tipped her head toward the bedroom.

  “That was just the preview.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “This, my love, is the main event.”

  Her heart tripped up at his endearment, but Paige staved off the enticing temptation to read anything more into it. No vows of love would be made, nor was she expecting them. They were still in the having-fun, getting-to-know-each-other stage.

  Except she found herself falling in love with what she’d come to know of Torrian.

  Paige closed her eyes and dropped her head upon his back. She so was not going there. Please, just don’t go there, she implored, hoping her mind would listen.

  “You up for something sweet?” Torrian asked.

  Paige lifted her head and peered around his shoulder. He swirled a smooth, deep brown chocolate in a small saucepan. A ding sounded.

  “That’s my soufflé,” he said, dislodging from her hold and heading for the double stacked in-wall ovens.

  “Soufflé?” Paige asked.

  Torrian pulled out a shallow baking pan and carried it over to the island. Inside were two ramekins holding perfectly baked soufflés.

  “How did you manage this?” Paige asked with a hint of concern. She still had to beat him in a cooking contest after all.

  “Sister? Chef? Any of that ring a bell?” Torrian asked.

  “You’re going to kick my butt in the dessert segment, aren’t you?” she muttered.

  “Oh yeah.” Torrian laughed. “It’s been a fair fight up to this point, but I’ve got to pull out the big guns if I’m going to win.”

  “This ultra-competitive streak of yours cannot be healthy.”

  “This ultra-competitive streak is the main reason I have a job,” he said, getting back to his chocolate sauce. “Look on the bright side, at least you get a sneak peek at my final dish. You’ve still got time to come up with something to top this.”

  “Yeah right,” Paige snorted. She scooted onto the bar stool next to him and propped her chin in her upturned palm. “Unless I can convince Emeril to throw on a skirt and cook in my place, I think it’s safe to say this competition is yours.”

  “Don’t feel too bad, baby. To make it fair, I’ll split the last portion of the prize money with you, that way both our charities walk away with fifty thousand.”

  “Will you share the title of winner with me?” Paige asked.

  “Heck no, I’m not that generous.”

  Paige scrunched her face, pulling a laugh from him.

  “So, what’s in the pot?” She gestured to his saucepan.

  “Dark chocolate with a hint of cayenne pepper.”

  “Interesting combination.”

  “According to Deirdre, the cayenne follows almost as an afterthought, adding a kick to your taste buds.”

  “Am I allowed to sample?” Paige murmured.

  Torrian sent her a wickedly sexy grin as he scooped up a bit of the chocolate sauce. Holding a hand under the spoon, he strolled to the bar stool where she sat.

  Paige’s taste buds tingled in anticipation, although it wasn’t so much the chocolate as it was the man carrying it.

  “Watch it,” Torrian cautioned her in a low, sexy voice. “From what I hear the spiciness sneaks up on you.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Paige returned, her reply equally seductive.

  She opened her mouth, holding Torrian’s gaze as he fed her the warm chocolate. It was heaven; a decadent, silken sin upon her lips and tongue. Paige closed her eyes and moaned as the smooth chocolate traveled down her throat.

  When she opened her eyes, Torrian was still in that same spot, staring at her with a heat that surpassed the flames licking the bottom of the chocolate-filled saucepan.

  “How is it?” he asked.

  Paige crooked her finger. “Why don’t you taste for yourself?”

  He leaned over and did just that, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Their mouths danced in rhythmic unison, licking and biting and sucking and devouring.

  Paige mourned the loss of his taste as Torrian pulled away. He reached over and turned the fire off under the chocolate. Then he picked up the small saucepan and brought it with him.

  His grin was sinful. “Turn around,” he ordered.

  Paige spun the bar stool around and faced him. Still holding the saucepan in one hand, Torrian reached out to her with the other and loosened the tie at her waist. The heavy robe fell open, exposing a six-inch span of breasts and abdomen.

  “Lean back,” Torrian said.

  Unsure of his plans, she nevertheless followed his orders. She arched her back on the lower half of the marble bar, the robe falling completed away from her breasts. Torrian stepped between her spread legs; the towel still wrapped around his waist brushed her inner thighs. He ran his hand from her neck, down her chest, to her stomach.

  Paige closed her eyes, anticipating his hand reaching the spot that had become addicted to his touch. But his fingers never reached her core. Instead, a trickle of hot, silky chocolate fell upon the valley between her breasts. Paige hissed at the contact, then groaned as Torrian’s tongue licked a wide path along her skin.

  His erection pulsed from behind the towel, hitting Paige just where she needed it. She clamped her thighs around his waist, imprisoning him.

  She heard the clank of the spoon as Torrian swirled it in the pot of chocolate. She opened her eyes to find the look on his face intense as he lifted the spoon and drizzled a swirl of
chocolate upon her breast. His tongue cleaned the chocolate from her skin, twirling from the base of her breast, and going around and around, ending at the erect nipple. He sucked it into his mouth.

  Paige groaned. Her body bowed, pushing her breast up even higher into Torrian’s warm mouth.

  He set the pot of chocolate next to her on the bar and wrapped his free arm around her waist. He lifted her from the bar stool, and kicked the stool to the side.

  “Turn around,” he ordered again.

  Paige looked into his eyes. His stare was so determined, so full of intent; all she could do was obey.

  She turned and Torrian grabbed the robe from her shoulders and dragged it down her arms. He placed his hand on the small of her back and gently pushed her face down onto the cool marble. His tongue licked a path up her spine to the spot between her shoulder blades.

  The chocolate followed.

  Paige arched her back, the sensation of the cold marble on her breasts and the hot sauce on her back wrenching another moan from her. Torrian ate more of the chocolate from her skin, licking and nipping his way along her back.

  Paige’s body tensed in eager expectation when she felt the towel fall from Torrian’s waist, putting them skin to skin. He used his legs to spread her thighs apart, gripped her hips and entered her from behind.

  Paige gasped, her entire body growing taut as he plunged his full length into her over and over and over again. She gripped the edges of the countertop with both hands to steady herself as Torrian pushed deeper and higher, stronger and faster, in and out, with breath-stealing power.

  Her orgasm hit with remarkable speed, the intensity nearly blinding her. Paige’s stomach clenched against the hard marble. Her muscles tightened as a second orgasm spiraled throughout her body.

  Torrian collapsed onto her back, his heavy breathing evidence of the tumultuous roller-coaster ride they’d just been on. For long moments there was no sound other than their shallow, frantic pants of breath renting the air.

  Paige stared out the window of Torrian’s bedroom, watching the hypnotic rhythm of the waves crashing upon the beach. The illumination of the moon offered just enough light to see the gentle rush of water as it rolled in, then back out. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring, but figured it was at least two in the morning.