by Poppy Parkes
I shake my head. “It was the only thing I could do,” I answer honestly. I didn’t give her my food processor as a ploy or a trick. I gave it to her because it was what everything in me demanded that I do, no matter what happened or didn’t as a result.
“It means everything.” Her voice trembles, eyes suddenly gleaming with tears. Her palms are flat on my chest and it feels like she’s cradling my heart.
I capture her face in my hands. “You mean everything,” I say fiercely. “And I know it sounds crazy, that we barely know each other, but—“
She cuts me off, words throaty and rich, vibrating with emotion. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Then she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls my face down so she can kiss me with fire and feeling. I hold her close, tasting and nibbling and exploring, massaging her soft lips with mine. She’s liquid honey and even though I’m devouring her, I know that I’ll never get enough. Brie is a delicacy that I could enjoy every day for the rest of my life and never grow tired of.
That’s exactly what I intend to do.
The cameras are shoving in close, and I hear Basil exclaiming loudly, but I don’t give a shit. All I care about is the woman who’s right in front of me, safe in my arms, reflecting the unexpected love I feel for her right back to me, making me the happiest damn man alive.
Brie
I won.
That’s what everyone crowding around me and Colby is saying.
I find I have difficulty caring, now that I’ve gotten a taste of Colby. He saved me with his sacrifice, and I saw that woman I’d caught him with on the balcony yesterday. She’s been glowering in the audience the whole time, and he’s barely given her a second glance.
What I’m feeling for Colby is real, not a figment of my lonely imagination — and the best part is that he feels it too. He feels it for me.
My fondue won the competition, and I’m so damn grateful and relieved that I’ll be able to help Mom get her surgery.
But the real prize is right in front of me.
Saffron and Basil practically have to physically pull us apart. They thrust a small golden trophy into my hand, a check tucked inside the cup. They congratulate me on my win, say that they’d like to offer me a partial scholarship to CCI because of how inspired they found my bourbon and beer fondue to be, that my crudités were perfectly on point.
My head is spinning. Thankfully, I’ve got Colby to keep me steady.
I lean back into him, marveling at his solidness, at how right his arms feel wrapped around my waist. I cover his hands with mine, thinking that I never want to be not touching this man.
The judges and producers and camera crew have a million questions for both of us. But I’m half-stunned at my win and half love drunk so that all I can manage are short, probably uninteresting answers. Colby doesn’t do much better, although I get the impression that his curt replies are by design, not by accident.
Before long, the audience thins and the questions stop. CCI workers start cleaning up the cook stations, packing up all the competitors’ tools so we don’t have to do that, thank goodness. I just have to sign some paperwork regarding my winnings and then I’m free to go.
Which makes me really happy. Because there’s just one thing I want to do.
Colby Jackson.
I grab his hand. “Let’s go.”
“No.”
My mouth drops open. That is not what I expected him to say.
Then Colby’s mouth curves into a smile, eyes dancing. “I want to taste your fondue before we go.”
That’s exactly why I want to get the hell out of here — so he can dip into the fondue pot between my legs.
But I also adore that he wants to taste my recipe. Besides, I wouldn’t mind showing off my skills to him. So we hurry to my cook station before the crews get to it. I slide the plate of dipping items close to him.
Colby selects a cube of sourdough and a pickle, dipping first one then the other and savoring them in turn.
His smile grows. “Yep,” he says with a nod, “this is fucking amazing.”
My cheeks heat. “It’s my specialty. Everyone knows me for it back home.”
“Beer and—“ he cocks his head to one side, tasting, “—is that bourbon?”
I nod, grinning. “Try it with the bacon. That really brings out the best of the bourbon.”
Colby follows my suggestion and his eyes light up. “We are going to have fun together in the kitchen, you and me.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You ready to be my sous chef?”
He sweeps me into his arms. “I’m ready to be anything you want.”
“Good.” I kiss him, tugging at his bottom lip with my teeth. “Then let’s get out of here. I know exactly what kind of fun we can start with. And it has nothing to do with kitchens.”
He follows me with a knowing grin like he’s reading my mind as I lead us out of the campus building and back to our nearby hotel.
Colby doesn’t let me go the entire way, not on the city sidewalk, not in the elevator, not as I fumble with my keycard at my room’s door.
My hands are shaking so badly — not from nerves, but from a cocktail of exhaustion and arousal. My panties are so freaking wet from how badly I want this man. I can’t wait to get him inside.
I shiver at the thought of it, and how soon it will be reality.
If I manage to unlock my door, that is.
Without speaking, Colby gently plucks the keycard from my hands and slides it into the waiting slot.
I practically drool watching him do it. Yeah, I definitely want his keycard in my slot, if you know what I mean.
I’ve got it bad for this guy. And I’m not mad about it. Not even a little.
We tumble through the door into my hotel room, quickly locking it behind us.
Then we’re on each other, kissing and groping, tugging at pieces of clothing until we’re panting and naked on the bed. Colby’s fingers go to my opening, burrowing through my thatch of golden hair to find my nub, but I push him aside and roll him over onto his back.
His sudden confusion fades from his eyes as I straddle him and, guiding dripping cleft onto his thick rod that’s standing so proudly for me.
We both shudder as his hardness fills me. I arch my back to take him deeper, balancing myself with light hands on his muscular torso.
“You’re perfect,” Colby rasps, taking in the globes of my breasts, the swell of my belly, the hair he freed from its bond. His eyes find mine. “You’re everything I ever want.”
I trail light fingernails over his belly and he shivers, eyes slitting in pleasure. “Promise me,” I whisper, “promise me that this is forever.”
His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips. “I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me, Brie. Is that forever?” His blue eyes plead with me, breaking my heart in the best way with how badly he wants me — all of me.
“Yes,” I breathe with a mixture of happiness and relief, beginning to move my pelvis over his. “Yes. I’m all yours.”
Colby
Everything I am and know in this moment is liquid heat. Brie is flowing over me, around me, sheathing me like the ruler of my heart that she has so quickly and so unexpectedly become. She won the cooking competition and she won me over.
I’m the happiest loser that ever lived.
I worship her ample curves with my hands, twisting her nipples so that she moans rough and lovely, gripping her thighs hard as she rides me.
I was nervous that she wanted to jump right to penetration without warming up, but I shouldn’t have doubted her. She’s ripe and ready for me, gloriously wet. Being inside her feels incredible.
Hell, being with her in every way possible feels like I’ve finally found the puzzle piece I didn’t know my life had been missing.
She is mine.
I am hers.
In Brie, I’ve found my home.
I’m not going to let her go, not while she stills wants me. Not now, not ever.
I thrust up, hitting her insides just right, making her abdominals contract and her head fly back, exposing the vulnerable expanse of her neck.
Shifting onto my elbows, I sit up and lavish that beautiful neck with kisses and licks. Her rhythm doesn’t falter. If anything, she rides me harder, faster, her breath coming in little mewls.
I palm her breasts, in awe of how they feel in my hands, so large and luscious, the skin velvet soft.
Brie slips a hand between us, diving for her clit. With a few rolls of her fingers, her inner walls clamp tight on my cock, massaging and milking me. I grit my teeth and endure the exquisite agony of my girl’s orgasm. I could come so easily right now, but I’m not ready to let this moment end. Not until I’ve thoroughly fucked this incredible specimen of a female.
As her orgasm ebbs, I grab Brie by the hips and flip her onto her back. Now I’m on top and in control. She looks up at me with hunger and challenge sparking in her eyes.
I won’t let her down.
Laying a gentle finger on her button, I rut into her again and again. Her legs fly up, stick straight, feet hovering near my ears. As I pummel her folds, Brie lets her legs fall so that they’re almost perpendicular to the bed. She’s wide open and meeting me thrust for thrust, aching for everything that I have to give.
I don’t hold back.
Everything is sweat and motion and sensation. I can’t tell where her cries of pleasure end and mine begin. All I know is that when Brie’s clit has contracted to a hard nub and her vagina closes tight around me once more, I can’t hold my own climax back one minute more.
With an effort that feels herculean, I withdraw from the electric heat of her insides and, my breath ragged and loud, pump my creamy load all over Brie’s beautiful belly. She watches my stream with an appreciative gaze, then pulls my face to hers for a hard kiss.
Once the world has stopped spinning and my ears are no longer ringing, I leave my girl for just a moment to clean myself up and bring her a washcloth. Even just this minuscule distance feels like too much and it’s a relief to return to the bed that carried us through the first of many lovemakings.
I curl up next to the love of my life, equal parts shocked that something this good could have happened so fast and grateful that it did.
“I love you, Brie Marsden,” I say, rubbing a light thumb over her flushed cheek.
“I love you, Colby Jackson,” she murmurs in return before falling asleep in my arms.
Even though I feel like I could sleep for days, I stay awake to relish the sensation of this woman curled against my body and snoring gently, trusting me with her whole self.
I kiss the top of Brie’s head and lay mine down next to her, vowing to be the best partner I can. There’s the issue of money, of course, which I have just about none of given that I didn’t win the CCI competition. I’ll just have to hustle all the harder with my YouTube channel, and maybe pick up a restaurant gig if I need to.
Then there’s the matter of where we’ll live. She’s not from around here, but I’m willing to go anywhere as long as she’s there with me.
We have a hundred decisions before us, plus all the joys of falling in love at first sight. I don’t have all the answers but I know one thing for damn sure — I’ll be by my woman’s side through all of it.
Epilogue
Brie
Three Months Later
I marry Colby on a windswept overlook on Marin Headlands across the San Francisco Bay from the lights of the city, the ocean sprawling out to the west. It’s a place where hawks are known to roost, and sure enough, I sight more than a few as I promise my eternal love to Colby in front of my parents and his grandmother and the minister who pronounces us husband and wife.
“Go on,” she says with a wink after she’s finished her brief ceremony, “kiss each other and seal the deal.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I pull my husband’s face to mine and kiss him with all the love I possess.
We seal our commitment over a gourmet dinner with our families in Sausalito, then again that night in the suite we’ve booked at an elegant hotel, just the two of us. Colby makes love to me on a bed strewn with rose petals. I’ve never come so hard.
The last three months have been a whirlwind, but I’ve loved every second because Colby has been by my side through it all.
At first, Colby moved back to Montana with me, renting out his SoCal apartment and operating Planet Yum from my place. That allowed him to pay off enough of his credit card debt for him to feel comfortable marrying me.
He wanted to be able to provide for me before we got hitched, he said. I’d slapped him playfully on the arm and told him not to be ridiculous. I don’t need to be provided for, I just need to be loved.
Colby said it was one and the same in his mind, so I let him win that argument. He worked his tail off and turned his YouTube ad revenue around so fast that it gave me whiplash. His showing in the CCI competition and our widely covered rivals-to-lovers romance story didn’t hurt his following either — quite the opposite.
His focus on Planet Yum gave me the time and space to consider my options. I got Mom her hip surgery, and it went great. She’s still a little tender but healing up well.
I didn’t have a lot of my winnings left over after the surgery, but I had a tidy little sum that, with the right handling, could eventually be grown into my cooking bar.
Then Saffron Davis called me.
She wanted to know what I was planning to do with my partial scholarship to CCI — and that she was prepared to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
A full scholarship.
Plus room and board and all fees paid.
For a complete culinary degree.
In the specificity of my choice.
I’d told her I’d have to think about it, then hung up and literally jumped up and down in my living room for five minutes straight.
When I finally managed to speak in coherent sentences and conveyed the news to Colby, he’d immediately closed his laptop and said that we were moving to San Francisco.
So now I’m enrolled at the California Culinary Institute, learning every nuance of fine food preparation. And you know I’m at the top of my class.
Even better, once I learned my way around the city, I kind of fell in love with living in San Francisco. And it’s been amazing for Colby — he’s networking with all sorts of cooks, chefs, and other digital media powerhouses, and Plant Yum is going viral on the daily.
Between that and the fact that I’ve just married the love of my life, I’m so damn happy. Happier than I ever would have dreamed possible just a few short months ago when I was working for Reggie back at The Thinking Cup and wondering if I would ever have the means to pursue my dreams.
Now I know exactly what I’m doing, and what I want — to become a kick ass gourmet chef, then open a cooking bar where patrons can learn to cook over some choice cocktails, and to love Colby with everything I have within me through it all.
It’s crazy to think that this all started with me running face-first into Colby and a little cheese sauce rivalry. I’ve never been so grateful to have mashed my face into another human’s chest.
Looking for more delicious romance? Don’t miss the rest of Flirt Club’s Secret Sauce series!
His Apple Sauce by Frankie Love
His BBQ Beauty by Rebecca Gallo
His Cheeky Chantilly by Dee Ellis
His Hot Sauce Honey by Derek Masters
His Secret Peppercorn by Amelia Wilde
His Spicy Sriracha by Hunter King
His Wicked Worchestershire by Laney Powell
His Zesty Marinara by Fiona Starr
A Love Note For You
Dear wonderful reader,
Thank you so much for reading His Flirty Fondue! I hope you enjoyed Colby and Brie’s love story as much as they did. ;)
If you’d like to stay in touch and be the first to know about fresh releases and sizzling deals, I invite you to sign up for my ma
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If you have a few moments, I’d be so grateful if you considered leaving a review for His Flirty Fondue here on Amazon. This helps your fellow readers know if it’s the right book for them.
Thanks again for reading! It means the world to me. You rock!
Love,
Poppy xo
Also by Poppy Parkes
Standalone Stories:
Accidental Valentine
Bodyguard X2
Cowboy’s Pride
Falling Into You
First Time Player
Giddy Up, Cowgirl
Her Declaration of Independence
Her Winter Cowboy
His Flirty Fondue
Hot for the Holidays
Mister Cowboy
Our Happy Holiday
Teacher’s Pet
Down the Shore Series:
Under the Boardwalk
Fireworks on the Beach
Sun Burn
Once Upon a H.E.A. Series:
SWEET
PAID
WAKE
Love at First Sight Series:
Meant to be Yours
Love Tumble
Head Over Heels
One in a Million
The Light Between Us Series:
The Light Between Us
Finding Me and You
Wedding Jitters
Collections & Anthologies:
Love at First Sight
Once Upon a Happily Ever After
The Light Between Us Box Set
Wrangled: The Cowboy Collection
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About the Author
Poppy Parkes is the author of sweet and hot love stories. Poppy writes, paints, and dreams in Montana, where she raises her two boys. She is in love with luscious color, moon-gazing, and dancing wild. And coffee. And wine. And chocolate. You know how it is.
