by Gina Gordon
Sometimes he felt guilty that such a wonderful woman had been saddled with a son like him—that she would have preferred to have a child of her own flesh and blood. Someone that was a mixture of both her and Arnold, her husband that had passed before she’d decided to foster him and his brothers. But she reassured him every day with her support and love. Up until that time, even his biological parents hadn’t been capable of showing that kind of love.
“So that’s my story.” It was a lot more than he had planned on disclosing. “And now that I know your secrets, I understand the architecture dream.”
She shrugged. “That is the dream.” She didn’t sound very convincing.
“You don’t love it?”
He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t cook anymore. If the restaurant business was not a part of his life.
“On the contrary, I do love it.” Her thumbnail picked at the counter top. “It’s just not fun anymore.”
He cocked his head waiting for her to elaborate. Finally, she let out a deep breath and continued. “Working for my father is stressful, demanding. I have huge shoes to fill which he reminds me of every day. Not to mention the fact that nothing I do is ever good enough.”
“How can that be? I’ve seen your work.” He opened his arms and motioned to the restaurant. “You’re very good.”
She shrugged. A tiny smile curving at the side of her lip. “Thanks. But it’s not only my father.” She sighed. Her body language screamed discomfort. “You remember Martin Connelly, the right-hand man I mentioned?”
Neil nodded.
“Carson Sr. sent him to check up on me this morning at the inspection. Martin seems to think that we’re going to fall in love and run the company together.” She mumbled something under her breath. “And since that will never happen, I’m sure he’d simply settle for stealing it away from me.” This time when she mumbled it was loud enough to hear. Creepy weasel.
“Why do you let them get away with manipulating you?”
“Because he’s my father.” She slumped forward. “He acts like I’m just not good enough to work anywhere else, or even on my own. I wish his approval didn’t matter but…” She dragged a hand through her hair. “It does.”
Neil headed to the sink and rinsed the string beans. The heavy rush of water caused him to speak louder. “I hired you for your designs, your vision.” He hoped she was listening to every word he was saying because it was the honest truth and damn her father for doubting this smart and talented woman. “You just need to stand up to him.”
She laughed and leaned further into the counter. “You don’t know the man very well do you?”
“You seem to have no problem chewing me out.”
“That’s because you infuriate me…and you’re not my father.”
He reached across the sink and turned the tap. “Hallelujah for that.”
She cocked her head to the side and gave him a sexy grin. “You’re funnier than I thought you would be.”
“Is that so?” No one had ever called him funny before. Not even his brothers. “What was your first impression of me?”
“Ah…” She shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Sure I do.” He returned to the counter and placed the colander in front of her pointing to the beans. “You’re helping. Break off the ends.”
She hesitated a moment but set to work.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “We’re friends now…sort of. Friends share.”
“All right, I thought you were an obnoxious asshole with a power complex.” She broke off a tip and threw it into the colander. “It was baffling to me since you weren’t born into this life. You came from foster care and knew the other side of the coin but still acted like a rich douche.”
Ouch. Far from the truth. He remembered his past every day. It was the drive behind why he tried so hard, was determined to succeed.
“But then I spent more time with you and realized that your search for power is simply determination and guilt. You’ll do anything, say anything, bulldoze anyone to get your goals accomplished. All to prove your worth.”
He smashed a clove of garlic with the flat blade of his knife. She was much more intuitive than he gave her credit for. But he didn’t particularly like the term bulldoze. Was he a bulldozer?
He was having to face all kinds of harsh truths about himself today.
“I’m sorry.” She reached across and placed her hand on his. “I told you. Not something you wanted to know.”
He retracted his hand. “It’s probably something I needed to hear.” She might be right. Hell, she was exactly right.
He glanced up and caught her staring at him rather than preparing beans.
“Tell me about Vivian.”
Neil tensed. Unchartered territory. He’d never talked about her to anyone. He barely talked with his brothers unless it was completely necessary.
“She would have liked you. She had admiration for young women who took their profession seriously.”
“Oh yeah.” She resumed her duties and ripped the ends off with vigor. “I’m sure she would have loved you hanging out with a girl who rebelled and raced.”
“Do you forget what woman you’re talking about? She took in four foster kids. We’ve all done bad things. Vivian was kind and loving and supportive. She was everything my biological mother was not.”
His mother hadn’t been a bad woman, but it was hard to respect someone who was comatose for most of the day.
“I was a little skeptical when a middle-aged woman wanted to take me home. I figured she needed a couple of things moved or her house painted and then she’d send me back.” He laughed. “When I saw the house and walked through the front door, I had to pick my jaw off the ground”
“Why did you go with her?”
“Vivian was my second chance. We didn’t talk much at first. She let me do my own things, but we would cook together. It’s one of the reasons we all became chefs—because it brought us such joy. One time, I forgot to put the lid on the Cuisinart and it exploded. I was saved but she was covered in pesto from head to waist. It was the first time I had genuinely laughed since I had arrived. It was the first time I had laughed in a really, really long time. I was fifteen.”
Neil smiled. He remembered that day. How could he forget it? It was one of the best memories he had.
“A few months later she brought home Finn and Cole and then Jack followed. By the time my eighteenth birthday came around, we had all been living together for a couple years. I had retreated a bit knowing that once I became an adult I’d have to leave. I had my bags packed for a month. But I had only packed a few things feeling guilty because she had bought me everything I owned.”
He’d spent so many years feeling helpless. Helpless by not being able to protect his mother from the hands of his father. Helpless by not being able to keep his parents from the bottle. He vowed the day he had been placed in emergency foster care that he would never feel helpless again so it had been hard for him to let Vivian give him things, even if they were necessities.
He glanced over at Carson, who listened intently to his story. He had no idea how she managed to pull the words from him. But if he was honest, she wasn’t pulling anything. The words came out without force, without a second thought. And if he could choose anyone to share this moment with, it would be Carson.
“Being a foster kid you get pretty good at walking around on eggshells. We were all wondering when the novelty was going to wear off. But it didn’t.”
Like some miracle, Vivian had wanted them in her life.
“She was devastated when I told her I was leaving. I just assumed. I was eighteen. Her duty was done. There was no reason for me to believe that she would keep us longer than necessary.” All four of them had had experiences where they were unwanted. No one had cared enough to keep them around. Not even their own parents.
“Vivian cried when she saw my bag at the door asking what she had done to make me want to le
ave. She asked me to stay. Not because she was our foster parent, but because over the last three years I had become her son.”
Carson wiped at her eye.
“I was convinced that I would be a ward of the city until I was eighteen and then I’d be free to do as I liked.”
“What about your real parents?”
Neil sighed and turned his head in the opposite direction from where she stood. “My mom died when I was fourteen. I had already been put in the system. I don’t know what happened to my dad.” He straightened and cleared his throat. “And I don’t really care.”
He turned his attention back to the garlic, uncomfortable with how much she now knew about him. But he knew she wasn’t the type to blab. She wasn’t going to go to the media and divulge his deepest, darkest secrets. Not if she didn’t want her street racing alter ego to be exposed.
“You know…” she approached and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “You’re not as grumpy as you think you are. You just needed someone to figure out why you’re so grumpy.
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re scared. You’re afraid of failing.”
Neil dropped his knife and walked to the sink. She had no choice but to let go.
“You’re afraid of not living up to the woman who gave you everything. And you’re afraid of becoming your father.”
“Of course I don’t want to be my father. Neither do you.”
She walked closer, with slow, tiny steps as if trying not to spook a rabbit. He wasn’t some fragile animal. She linked their hands together and pulled herself toward his body. “It’s all right to be scared.”
He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, licking a line up to her ear. It was time to stop this therapy session and get back to what they did best. What they were most comfortable doing with each other.
She shivered. “Is this your way of distracting from the conversation?”
“Wrong.” His hands travelled down her back and cupped her bottom.
“You’re the one doing the distracting. Your shirt has been hanging open since you started your little speech. A man can only take so much.”
She gasped and looked down, covering up her breasts, but he stopped her. “Oh no, I’ll be the one to handle these beauties. I’ll let you know when I’m done with them.”
“What about dinner?” She gestured to the counter where the food prep lay, waiting to be cooked.
“Good idea. I’m starving.”
He swooped down and kissed her. A long, devouring kiss that let her know she was in for a long, hard night.
She pulled away. “But you’re not feeling anxious about racing.”
He shook his head.
“And you don’t need a ride anywhere.”
He nodded then kissed the top of her nose.
“So then what’s our excuse for having sex?”
He didn’t need an excuse to have sex with Carson. They had been playing the excuse game since the night he discovered her at the race. But maybe this time no excuses were necessary.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I guess tonight we’re having sex because we like it.”
…
What a novel idea. Sex because it was fun. Sex because they liked it. Liked each other.
In fact, Carson liked him more than she could have ever imagined. And the vulnerable man that enveloped her body at this very moment was pretty damn close to perfect.
It was too bad that everything about their relationship spelled temporary.
He was quick to remove her shirt. Overwhelming heat spread through her body when he dipped down and sucked on her nipple through the thin satin of her bra.
She fumbled with the fly of his khaki pants and immediately pulled out his hard length. He groaned when she stroked his flesh.
His hands tickled up her back and undid the clasp of her bra, exposing her breasts to the cool kitchen air. He returned to sucking, this time, his hot mouth working her stiff nipples.
She pushed him back, then fell to her knees in front of him and took him into her mouth.
“I love the sight of my cock disappearing into your mouth.” His hands gripped the sides of her head and guided her. “You like sucking my cock, don’t you sweetheart?”
She moaned and cupped his balls.
“And you do it so good. That’s it. Slow and steady.”
Her finger slid behind, pressing into the sensitive space. He jerked forward and his shaft hit the back of her throat.
She pulled away, catching her breath, but still paying attention to him. Her hands rubbed along his length one after the other in circular strokes while her tongue tickled the tip.
She tilted her head back and their eyes locked. Carson had never felt so in control. She held this man’s pleasure in her hands, literally. She could go fast or slow. Hard or soft. The fire dancing in his eyes told her she could do whatever she wanted. He was on board, along for the ride.
It was at that moment that she realized Neil had finally given up control. Not only with his body but also with his words. He had finally disclosed the vulnerability of his past. And she had done the same. There were no more secrets to hide. No more walls to break down.
She pulled at his pants so they pooled around his ankles and stood up to reach for his shirt. This time, when she went for the buttons, he didn’t stop her. She started at the top, and made her way down, releasing one button at a time.
Finally, she smoothed her hands over his chest to his shoulders and pushed off his shirt, exposing his hard, perfect body and that black ink she had been dying to see.
She traced the design that ran along his shoulder and up his neck with her finger—his flesh pimpled at the light touch—it disappeared down his back.
She grabbed his shoulders and attempted to move his body, but he resisted. Instead, she walked around and gasped at the tattoo on his back, a combination of tribal imagery and a dragon.
She continued her walk around his body, letting her hand caress his back. When she returned to face him, she smiled, letting her finger trace the line of his jaw then his lips. “It’s beautiful.”
Neil opened and sucked her finger into his mouth, letting his tongue swivel and swirl along her flesh. Yes, she knew exactly how deadly he was with his tongue.
She balanced on her tip-toes and replaced her finger with her lips. He grabbed her bottom and lifted and she reveled at how perfectly she fit into his body when her legs were wrapped around his hips.
He walked them over to one of the empty lower counters with short steps and sat her on the edge. He loomed over her, forcing her down until her back rested against the cool stainless steel. The smell of garlic surrounded her but when his head dipped and he bit down on her neck, all of that faded away.
“You like that, baby?” he asked.
His hand massaged between her legs while his mouth worked magic on her upper body.
She lifted her pelvis, giving him better opportunity to remove her pants. He stepped back and Carson took matters into her own hands and slid her fingers between her folds. Neil watched as she thrust two fingers in and out of her core, his face perfectly level with her as he was bent over removing his shoes and pants.
He cursed. “That’s even hotter than you sucking my cock.”
She moaned and took it a step further, using her free hand to tweak her nipple.
“Every time I touched myself over the last year, I thought of you,” she whispered.
The faster her hand worked over her clit, the louder her moans grew.
“Did you come when you thought about me?” he asked. He stood now, his body towering over her, one hand clutching the base of his erection, the other caressing her knee.
“Every. Damn. Time.”
Neil picked up the condom from his pants pocket and ripped open the wrapper. “How about one last time. Let me watch you.”
She knew it wouldn’t be the last time for her. She knew that long after they parted ways, Neil Harrison would be h
er go-to fantasy. She couldn’t imagine any man topping his skill.
While Neil sheathed himself, she quickened her strokes. Just the thought of that thick cock thrusting inside of her heightened her desire. Leaning in, he grabbed at her breast, twirling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“That’s it baby.” His eyes locked on hers and she exploded. Her clit spasmed under her fingertips and her body shuddered, and before she had experienced the full effect of her orgasm, he thrust inside of her, prolonging that euphoric feeling.
He pulled her hand away from her clit and sucked her fingers into his mouth. He concentrated with his tongue as it swirled around her fingertips but his other hand gripped her hip and pulled her body into his, ramming so far inside her she gasped.
When he let her hand fall away from his lips, she gripped the edge of the counter and braced herself against his onslaught.
He thrust over and over until sweat beaded across their skin. Sex in a kitchen couldn’t be sanitary. But fuck sanitary. It felt so good.
They could wash down the space when they were done.
“Yes, yes, yes…” Carson murmured appreciative words between heavy exhales.
Neil bent forward and lowered his body onto hers, rested his forearms on the counter so that his hands bracketed her face and kissed her.
When he pulled back, their eyes met, and realization slammed into her like a bag of bricks. What she was feeling was more than casual, more than temporary. She didn’t need an excuse to have sex with Neil Harrison anymore.
“No more excuses,” she whispered. “Let me in.”
The desire in his gaze flickered, replaced by confusion, then replaced by understanding. He pulled out and grabbed Carson by the hips, whipping her around and bending her over the counter.
The steel was cold against her front and cut into her stomach. But just as soon as she grabbed onto the other side, Neil entered her and, at this angle, he hit the perfect spot that would take her to edge, and over.
His hand fisted in her hair and he pulled back her head. She whimpered, the pain zinged through her body and settled at her clit, heightening her need for him.
At her soft sound, he quickly released her hair, slowing his hips down.
