Why now? Why this woman?
She moved in, parted her lips. Luc widened his stance, bracing himself for the first electric lick, his whole system jacked up on lust and need to possess. Then Alyssa exhaled on the sensitive head of his dick, and he shivered. Sensation rioted, and he held his breath. Trembled.
Her tongue peeked out. It was the most fucking erotic thing he’d ever seen. Closer, closer . . .
“Hello?” a woman called from the dining room. “Anyone here?”
Her heels clicking across the hardwood floors, toward the kitchen, finally registered in Luc’s lust-saturated brain. Shit!
Alyssa rocked back on her heels, then stood. She cast a regretful glance down at his cock, then brushed a soft hand across his face.
Even her hand on his cheek sent sparks colliding inside him, and he cursed and pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants and righting his shirt.
As painful as this was, maybe he should be grateful for the reprieve. Whoever had arrived had just saved him from making a terrible mistake. Because no way would he have stopped at a blow job.
Regret softened Alyssa’s face. “Luc—”
“See who it is,” he barked.
She sighed and made her way out of the kitchen to intercept the new arrival. Luc stood behind a counter, panting, willing his cock to stand down. He couldn’t be meeting his brigade for the week with an erection like this.
Why did Alyssa drive him to reckless acts he knew weren’t good for him? Why did he let her?
Moments later, she returned with one of the sous chefs, Misa. He remembered her résumé, and she seemed both competent and excited for the job. A little starstruck, which always made Luc shake his head. Despite having a lot of bestselling cookbooks and a solid reputation in the culinary world, he found the whole “fame” thing odd. Thankfully, the petite Hispanic woman got over it quickly and took direction well.
The rest of the staff appeared in the next few minutes, and Luc talked them through the process. He assigned duties, and they cooked a few of the specials as a team to ensure that everyone knew what to do and they worked out any kinks before opening their doors. Tomorrow would be their mock service night, so they’d be open only to people Alyssa had invited, who had agreed to provide feedback.
She excused herself a moment later to confer with the waitstaff gathered in the dining room. As the smells of the kitchen wafted around Luc, and he looked around at the smart, proficient team of chefs Alyssa had assembled—without his help—he was impressed all over again. She was a damn smart woman.
And admiring her was only going to screw with his head more. Already, he wanted her so badly he could barely concentrate. Liking more than her body would only be a double dose of stupid. But he feared it was already too late. What would happen after her evening at the club, when they went to her little house—and they were alone?
MEETINGS concluded, Alyssa climbed into the SUV beside Luc in Bonheur’s parking lot. The heavy silence between them jangled her nerves. He’d definitely put off the vibe that he didn’t want to continue what Misa had interrupted. But his erection had risen again the minute they were alone, unmistakable and unflagging.
She tapped her toe, thinking. Everything inside her wanted to throw her arms around him and entice him again. The other half . . . Well, the off-putting vibe was strong, and she wasn’t dumb. He was close to the breaking point. After she got him into bed, she hoped he’d relax and conversation would follow. Until then, all she could do was continue to tease him and deny her own needs.
She reached out, touched his shoulder. “The meetings went well. The staff seems very excited. Thank you for staying this week.”
Luc jolted at her touch, then relaxed. “I needed to live up to our bargain. You had every right to call me on it.”
“Actually, I’m sorry about that. I feel strongly about not forcing people to be where they don’t want to.” The truth, but it made her wince. Pray to God he didn’t ask her why. “If I hadn’t advertised the fact you’d be here opening week and had so much of my savings into the place, I would have let you walk.”
He turned to her with a puzzled scowl. “After the way I—After that night, I don’t deserve your compassion. I know I was hard on you.”
“Luc, I’m not a hothouse flower.”
“No,” he agreed immediately. “You’re far stronger than I suspected. But that doesn’t erase the fact I wasn’t gentle with you. I’m not proud of that night. I’m . . . sorry.”
“I liked it. I’m not sorry at all.” Her words came out in a passionate rush. “Don’t you dare be sorry, either.”
He didn’t comment. Instead, he seemed to mull her answer over. “What if Deke had stayed that night? Would you have regretted that?”
Where was that question coming from? Luc was fishing for something. How much should she reveal?
Finally, she shook her head. “I still would have been with you.”
Luc’s jaw dropped. Then he closed his mouth, shaking his head as he sped down the road. “You barely knew me. We’d met . . . what, twice before that night?”
Three times, actually. But the first time, she’d been working—taking off her clothes. They hadn’t been formally introduced. The other times had been casual gatherings. “I suspected right away we’d be good together. I was right.”
Pasting on a smile, Alyssa turned away. Hopefully, Luc wouldn’t dig any further into that topic. She’d have to keep playing it casual. He wasn’t ready to hear that he’d rocked her to her core the night they’d spent together, that she’d loved his toe-curlingly intimate conversation.
No woman has ever given me such pleasure. I could drown in you forever. Touch me, sugar. Yeeessss . . .
As they approached the club, Alyssa filed the memory away. In silence, Luc stopped the car and shoved it into park. She reached for the door handle, and he grabbed her wrist, staying her.
“We’re good together sexually, God knows. But that’s it.”
A dozen comebacks ran through her head, most on the theme that he couldn’t truly know his statement to be fact because they hadn’t tried anything beyond sex. But contradicting him would only make him more resistant. And that was counterproductive. She had to keep playing her trump card.
“I never said I was talking about anything but sex.”
Before he could respond, she jerked from his grasp and exited the SUV. She burst into the club through the back door, Luc at her heels.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not being completely honest?”
Refusing to allow herself to be rattled, she kept walking. “I can’t answer that. Nor do I have time to try. I have a business to run. If you’d like to go back to the house, I’ll have Tyler give me a ride home when the club is closed.”
Just then, her bouncer approached, wearing two days’ growth of beard, a khaki shirt with Bettie Page in a bikini and fishnet stockings, and a mischievous smile. He stepped up beside her, slung his arm around her waist, hand caressing her hip. Then he buried his face in her neck and inhaled.