“Cat is a part-owner, and I can hardly ask her to tone it down,” Vicki points out with a grin. “You two, on the other hand…”
I laugh and disentangle myself from her. It takes a surprising amount of willpower. She’s soft and warm, and she smells like roses and sandalwood, and I want to hold her. One of these mornings, the two of us are going to wake up at the same time, eat breakfast in bed, and then make love again. Maybe we can even get away for a couple of days. Not the weekend, of course; we both run food businesses in a tourist town. Going away for the weekend is a luxury that needs to be saved for the off-season, but maybe we can get away mid-week.
Once I’m done unloading Vicki’s order, I turn back to Dakota. “Have you eaten?” I ask her. “I have food in the truck. Want to drive to Haslem Lake and eat lunch by the water?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Excellent.”
We drive down a deserted dirt road that ends in the water. I find a tattered blanket in the back of the truck, and I spread it on the sand. “Ta-dah.”
Dakota grins. “My prince.”
“King,” I correct her. “Let’s get this right, Wilde. I am the king.”
She rolls her eyes. “What do you have for me, King?”
I wink at her. “A thick, juicy, sausage.”
Her lips twitch. “Of course, you do. I demand foreplay first.”
I open my cooler. “Lamb and harissa sausage, fresh rolls, and an assortment of fixings. Dig in.”
“Nice.” She shoots me a wickedly amused look from beneath her eyelashes. “Cat had many compliments about your sausage, Julian. She thought it was juicy, flavorful, and spicy.”
“She said what?” My mouth falls open.
“Oh, she loves your meat,” Dakota says innocently. “After she had your sausage, she said she felt really stuffed.”
My hot dog goes down the wrong way. I start to cough. My eyes watering, I reach for a bottle of water. “Cat said that?” Fuck me, I think I’m blushing. Also, Dakota’s brother is going to kick my ass. “I don’t know what to say. Listen, you know I only do the sausage puns with you, right? I don’t go around telling random women to eat my meat.”
She bursts out laughing. “You should see your face,” she giggles. “Vicki and Cat pulled the same prank on me. They were sampling the stout sausage you’d made. Cat sat there, her face dead serious, and she told me she loved your meat, and she wanted me to pass the message on. For a few minutes, I couldn’t figure out if she was joking or if she was serious.”
I chuckle. “Funny.”
“They certainly thought so.” She falls silent, and then takes a deep breath and pulls a folded envelope from her jacket pocket. “Julian, I got this in the mail today.”
I pull out the letter and read it, and my temper flares sharply. Neil Silver is taking advantage of the situation. People like him drive me nuts.
“I’m not hinting for help,” she says. “I know you’re retired. If there’s a lawyer you can recommend…”
I look at her. “I’m a pretty good lawyer,” I tell her. “I’d to take care of this for you. But, if you aren’t comfortable with that idea, then yes. I’ll give you a couple of names.”
She bites her lower lip. I hold my breath. We’re both in our thirties. Sex is easy. Intimacy, true intimacy, is harder.
I want Dakota to trust me enough to ask me for help. I want her to feel comfortable enough to lean on me. I want her to let me into her life. If she’s not ready, then I won’t pout. However long it takes, I’ll put in the work.
Not going to lie, my heart hammers in my chest as I wait for her answer.
“If it’s not an imposition, would you take care of it for me?” she asks, her voice tentative.
Yes! I press a kiss on her lips. “You’re never an imposition, sweetness. I will take care of this.”
23
Dakota
I get a text from Julian at noon the next day. “Talked to Silver’s lawyers. They’re dropping their demands. Tell Ben to get back to work.”
I call him at once. “They dropped their demands? How? Why? What sort of voodoo magic did you perform?”
He chuckles. “No magic required. The optics are terrible, and they know it. You’re a successful business owner who made a good faith offer for a building that’s been neglected for almost a decade. You are continuing to make good faith moves by making desperately needed improvements to the building. Even after the Town Council screwed you over, you didn’t pull out of the deal. I merely pointed all of that out to Patricia Kane. She knows that she can’t take this to court.”
“Do you know her?”
“Silver’s lawyers? No. I looked them up before I talked to them, of course.”
They would have looked Julian King up too, and they would have realized that he never loses. “Thank you, Julian.”
There’s a smile in his voice. “Anytime, Dakota.”
Julian doesn’t lose. I can’t afford to lose. How is this going to play out?
“About my payment,” he continues.
“I can’t supply you with ice-cream.”
He laughs. “I was going to ask if we’re still on for tomorrow.”
God, yes. It’s been a busy week. I haven’t slept with him since Sunday night. I miss Julian. “I hope so. It’s supposed to be sunny and clear tomorrow. Want to take my canoe out?”
“I’m a terrible swimmer,” he warns me.
“Hang on. I need to take a mental snapshot of this moment. Julian King admits he’s not good at something.”
“Ha ha, very funny. It totally derailed my plans to compete in the Ironman.”
Trust Julian to want to do a triathlon. Typical. “I have a spare life jacket. This time of the year, it’s a must, strong swimmer or not. The water’s cold.”
We end up in a secluded bay off Lake Madison. This time, I bring food. We eat hummus and pita and wash it down with cold ciders. “In less than a month,” I tell Julian. “This lake will be swarmed with tourists. Enjoy the peace while it lasts.”
He flashes me a wicked smile. “Ever had sex here?”
“Are you kidding? This is a small town. Everybody gossips.”
He rolls his eyes. “Who cares?”
“Me.”
“Do you really?” He lies down, his head on my lap. His hand cups my cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
I flush with pleasure. My chest is tight. “Julian, what’s going to happen with the contest?” I take a deep breath. “This all feels like it’s too good to be true, you know? I keep waiting for it to fall apart. If one of us gets eliminated tomorrow…”
He puts his fingers on my lips. “It’ll work out, sweetness.”
“More of your optimism?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it. Dakota, I waited for you for a year. A thousand times, I called myself a stupid fool and wanted to walk away, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something told me I had to wait for you.” He huffs a laugh. “I spent far too many nights jerking off to the memory of our night together.” He gives me a sunny smile. “And now, look where we are.”
I stare at him. “You waited for me for a whole year?”
“You were worth the wait, Wilde.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Damn it, King. I don’t know what to say to that. I think I might cry.”
“No, no,” he chides. “I have a far better idea. There’s nobody around.” He gets up and stretches lazily, and then he sits back down and pats his lap. “Come here, baby.”
Every nerve ending in my body sparks to life. “What if someone sees us?”
“There’s no road access to this bay,” he points out. “The only way to get here is either to walk through a kilometer of mosquito-infested woods, or by water. Look around you. There’s not another boat on the lake. If anyone paddles up, we’ll hear them.” His grin turns smug. “I provided legal services,” he points out. “I demand payment.”
I’m wearing a ski
rt. He’s in shorts. I look around, and he’s right. There’s absolutely no one in sight. Quickly, I shimmy out of my panties. “I’m not going to take off my skirt,” I tell him. “You’ll just have to make do.”
“Okay,” he says agreeably. He unzips his shorts and frees his erection. Reaching into his pocket, he finds a condom and rolls it on.
I raise an eyebrow. “Came prepared, did you?”
His lips quirk up. “Are you going to tell me there isn’t a condom in that picnic basket?”
I flush. I stopped by the store yesterday and bought a twelve-pack, and yes, I’ve brought them along. “Fuck you, King.”
“Oh, I intend to, Wilde.” He crooks two fingers at me. I flip him off but move closer all the same. He puts his hands on my hips and tugs me down, moving my skirt out of the way.
I can’t believe I’m going to do this. Outside, where anyone can see us, can see me straddling Julian King’s lap. Riding his hot, erect, cock, grinding myself into him, desperate for the pleasure he gives me…
His fist strokes his cock. Hot anticipation surges through my blood.
Cocaine. Julian King is cocaine, and I’m an addict, and I don’t care. I want this; I want him.
“That’s my girl,” he says. His voice is deep and intent, his eyes, hot with blazing need. There’s an honesty about Julian that sucks me in. He’s never once tried to pretend he doesn’t want me.
Julian King doesn’t play games; he doesn’t need to.
He’s so hard, so big, so erect. I’m wet, ready, my body aching for Julian. I sink into him, and he guides his rock-hard cock into my wet heat, pulling me close. “Fuck, Dakota,” he growls, his voice thick and ragged, his eyes bright with pleasure. “You feel so good, sweetness.”
I pull myself up, my hands on Julian’s broad shoulders, and then I slam back down on his length. He clenches his eyes shut, need written on his face, and a shiver of arousal shocks me.
“Yes,” he hisses. “That’s right. Seize your pleasure, sweetness. Don’t hold back. It’s all yours for the taking.”
I couldn’t hold back if I tried.
His hands grip my hips. I slam down on him; he pulls me in for more. His hips thrust up, and hot pleasure claws through me. He’s so deep. My muscles clamp around him. My entire body is tingling, throbbing with desperate need.
I moan out loud, unable to hold back. His eyes meet mine. “Quiet, sweetness,” he says, a wicked grin curving his lips. “Someone might hear.”
I roll my eyes. “I have it on very good authority that there’s no one around.”
He laughs. His fingers tangle in my hair, and his mouth meets mine, coaxing my lips apart, demanding and receiving entry. His tongue dances against mine, and I whimper into his lips as he thrusts into me, hard and deep, taking me, claiming me.
Fuck. This is so good. This is so incredibly toe-tingling, stomach-clenching, mind-bogglingly good. His steel-hard cock drives into me, over and over, driving all thought from my mind.
His fingers pinch my nipples through my t-shirt. They swell in response to his touch, and stick out, erect and pulsing. My breasts feel hot and heavy.
I ache for him.
A familiar spiral begins to tighten inside my core. His cock pounds in and out of my tight, wet, heat, and my orgasm rushes toward me.
He moves his hand between our bodies, and expertly finds my clit. I gasp into his mouth again. “Julian,” I whimper.
“I’m here, love.”
Love.
A tsunami of pleasure erupts over me. I ride it out, my muscles convulsing around his hard length, my body awash in blazing heat. “That’s right,” he murmurs, low and firm. “I want to feel every muscle in that tight little pussy clench around my cock. Come for me, Dakota.”
I float like a leaf from one orgasm to another. He never stops thrusting, never stops stroking my clit. I shiver and writhe on his lap, shuddering against him, giving in to every sensation, every feeling he’s ripping out of me, before I slump against his chest, absolutely drained.
“I am jelly.”
He gives me a smugly satisfied male smile. Strangely, I find it charming. It’s that damn dimple. So sexy. “I don’t mean to alarm you,” he says. “But I heard a splash in the distance.”
Shit. I jerk off his lap in alarm. “How long ago? You should have warned me.”
He shrugs, unrepentant. “You were coming,” he says. “It would have been cruel to get in the way of that. Besides, they’re nowhere close. Sound carries over water, you know that.” He gets rid of the condom, tucks his cock back into his briefs, and zips his shorts, wincing as he does.
Poor guy. He’s still rock-hard. That’s got to hurt.
He’s right, as usual. It takes almost ten minutes for the canoe to near us. A couple is paddling, a couple I recognize. It’s Luke and Ruby.
Luke is one of Dom’s best friends.
So much for keeping this quiet.
They wave when they catch sight of us. I lift my arm to wave back, inwardly wincing. I guess it was too much to hope they wouldn’t see us.
Neither of us say anything until the canoe is out of earshot. When I’m sure they can’t hear us, I groan out loud. “I’m willing to bet they knew what we were doing,” I murmur, my cheeks flaming. “By tomorrow, everyone will know that the two of us were hanging out in a secluded beach.”
“So what? We’re two consenting adults.” Julian gives me a sidelong glance. “Does it bother you to be associated with me?”
“No. Not at all.” Julian King is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I keep pinching myself, thinking I’m in a dream.
Luke and Ruby are out of sight. And Julian hasn’t come, but I did. That’s not fair.
“Julian King,” I tell him solemnly, lacing my fingers in his. “Will you stick your hot dog in my bun?”
“That’s a ridiculous line, Dakota.” He kisses me, his eyes tender and loving. “Now, get back on my lap. If you don’t want to get caught having sex in a public place, you should make me come before your friends come back.”
“Cocky asshole.”
He kisses my palm. “Guilty as charged.”
He slides into me again. I’m so happy I think my heart is about to burst. But underneath, a thread of disquiet coils through me, entangling me in its vicious net.
Tomorrow’s Friday. Tomorrow evening, we’re going to be pitted against each other.
Again.
What’s going to happen then?
24
Julian
The idea I had in the back of my mind last weekend has been steadily taking shape. What if, instead of being in competition, Dakota and I worked together? What if, instead of selling one or the other, the new space could sell pizza and sausages?
Vicki wants to go back to Toronto. She’s looking to sell her share in the Madison Brewpub. Dakota won’t be able to swing financing for the buyout this year, but I can.
I could buy Vicki out. Dakota and I could be partners. Three restaurants, especially ones with separate kitchens, would be too much for Dakota to manage without ruining the quality of her life.
But we could do it together.
Dakota’s obviously stressed about the contest. I should broach the idea to her. I should tell her what I have in mind and gauge her reaction.
Yet, I keep quiet.
The truth is, Ward's right. With the exception of Dakota, things have come easy to me. I'm not saying that I haven't worked hard; of course I have.
But I’ve never had to be terrified about failure. If I fall, I’ve always had a place to land. Had I not made partner at BCF, my parents would have moved heaven and earth to hire me at their law firms. If Sausage King went bankrupt, I would still have the cottage my grandmother left me. I’ve never had to worry about being too broke to pay rent.
Getting Dakota to date me has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And, now that I have her, now that things seem to be going smoothly, I'm terrified about rocking the boat.
I don't
know how she'd react to the idea of us being partners. A partnership is a commitment, one of many I want to make with her.
But even the mere fact that Dakota and I are dating seems like a miracle. I don't want to push too hard, too soon.
When it comes down to it, I’m a pussy. Dakota’s not the only one who's terrified about putting her heart on the line.
Friday evening, we go through the usual bullshit. Checking ingredients, auditing the budget, and then prep.
Rana comes up to me as I chop jalapenos and cilantro for a turkey sausage. “We’re keeping a very close eye on things,” she says, her voice low. “I've given the producers a heads-up about what happened to Dakota last week. The camera crew has been warned to keep watch for sabotage. If anyone tries to do anything sneaky, we will catch them in the act.”
“Good,” I say grimly. I’m here for the same reason. If either Hale or Greyson try something, I’ll fucking destroy them.
“I also had a word with Sherri,” Rana continues. “She’s not a fan of Wexler either, no surprise there. We’ve changed the locks. Sherri’s got the key on her at all times. Nobody will be able to sneak back in here tonight.”
Rana’s taking this situation seriously. That’s good.
The prep goes without incident, and I begin to think that things are going to be okay. When we’re done Friday night, Dakota comes back home with me, and spends the night at my place, and that’s better than okay. “I keep expecting something awful to happen,” she admits.
Tell her what you’re thinking, King.
“Me too. But everyone seems to be on high alert.”
She snuggles against my shoulder. “Ben’s ready to get started on the interior,” she says. “I had to pay him for the roof and the deck today. Forty thousand dollars. I’m trying hard not to freak out, but every time I think about how overextended I am, there’s a tight knot of fear in my gut.” She gives me a sidelong look. “You’re not as stressed as me.”
Tell her, you fucking idiot. Tell her you don’t want to take over The Frozen Spoon. Tell her that if you win, the permit is hers.
Sausage King: An Enemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy Page 13
