Body Image (Body Heat Series Book 2) (9 page)

“
I
never would have guessed
you could cook. No offense.” I tip back my wine glass and drain the pinot noir before holding it out for a refill. He grabs the bottle off the countertop and obliges.

“Well, I’m single and I like to eat. That meant somewhere along the way I had to figure out the basics.” He’s being modest. I don’t know a lot about cooking, but I can tell he’s no novice from the way he effortlessly stuffs, rolls, and ties the beef tenderloin. My mouth is watering; I can’t wait to eat.

“I’m jealous,” I say. “I eat a lot of sandwiches and salads. I can microwave a frozen dinner in a pinch. But I haven’t used my pots or pans in a long time.”

“I’m not saying I don’t use the microwave.” He puts the tenderloin in the pan to sear it off and a loud sizzle fills the room. “There are a lot of nights I’m just too tired to do anything but reheat some leftovers. But I like to put my skills on display for special occasions.”

“Well, I appreciate all your skills. And I’m glad to hear I’m a special occasion.” I swirl my wine in the glass.

“How could you think you’re anything but?” He grabs a bunch of asparagus from the fridge and heads for the sink. “Besides, you can pretty much learn how to do anything these days just by watching videos online. YouTube is my friend.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t know what people did before the internet.”

He reaches for the stove and turns the browning beef.

I set down my wine glass. “Can I help with anything?

“Sure. You want to wash the asparagus and trim the ends? You can put it on the cookie sheet sitting next to the sink when you’re done.”

“That sounds like something I can handle.” I walk across the marble floor to his cavernous kitchen. His home looked like a castle when I first approached up the long, winding driveway. Inside, it was just as I had expected. Sparsely furnished with no clutter, everything as neat as a pin. I was tempted to open the cupboards to see if all the soup labels were facing the same direction. He must have been cringing the entire time he was at my place, with books and magazines strewn everywhere, along with dirty clothes.

“Is your place always this clean?” I snap the woody ends off the asparagus as I run each vibrant green stalk under the water. “I’ve seen model homes that look more lived in.”

“I’m a little anal when it comes to keeping things tidied up. Is it really that bad?” He pops the tenderloin in the oven and comes to help me with the veggies.

“Not at all. It’s refreshing to walk into a grown man’s home and find the bathroom in better shape than your average rest stop toilet. And I doubt I’ll find dirty underwear on your bedroom floor.”

“I’m going to go ahead and tell you that’s correct, since there’s no way I’m letting you into my bedroom tonight.”

“I can keep my hands to myself,” I tease as I palm his perfectly muscular ass cheek. He grasps my wrist and moves my hand away.

“The evidence proves otherwise, my dear.” He takes my sheet pan of asparagus and drizzles it with olive oil, sea salt, and pepper. He hands it to me. “Put that in the oven on the rack below the beef.”

I do as instructed, bending slowly and enticingly at the waist. I peek over my shoulder and discover, to my dismay, he hasn’t even noticed. He’s studying the recipe on his phone. I’m worried, until I see him fight back a grin. I reach back and give him a playful slap.

“You can’t resist me forever.”

“I don’t plan on it. Just for three more days.” The kitchen timer beeps, and he shoos me to the table while he puts the finishing touches on everything.

“Why do you hate mess so much? Is it from being in the service? Because I don’t remember the General ever having an aversion to clutter. I remember my mother complaining about everything he hoarded: military memorabilia, photos, back issues of magazines, model plane sets. The list goes on and on.”

He brings our plates to the table and slides mine in front of me. “It’s ironic you used the word ‘hoarded.’ My mother was never much of a housekeeper. She was a packrat, and we lived in this tiny apartment that was always jammed with stuff.”

I take my first bite and it’s delicious, but I like that he’s opening up to me, so I put my compliment on hold until he’s finished sharing.

“So . . . were things a little messy, or did you pretty much grow up in an episode of reality television?”

“It was pretty bad. I could never really have other kids over. I felt like I had to put on a show all the time so that people never knew anything was wrong. So that they would think we were normal. I always tried to be the best at everything, the most impressive and proper, to compensate.”

I rest my fork on my plate. “I’m glad you told me. That had to be really hard.”

“Everyone struggles with something, right? I’m sure your childhood wasn’t a fairy tale either.”

“It was hard losing my mom. But I’m not going to complain after what you went through.”

“Everyone’s pain is real to them, right? So tell me, what was growing up like for you?”

“I was a lonely only child, and we moved around a lot. You know how it is for military brats. Kids knew I would be gone within a year, so nobody wanted to waste time being my friend. I was quiet when I was young, believe it or not.”

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at me, and I laugh.

“It’s true! This feisty woman before you is a product of her environment. Nobody wanted to befriend the girl with her nose buried in a book. But everyone loves the class clown. I just had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t and they all liked me just fine.” I reach for the serving spoon and pile more asparagus on my plate.

“Instead of waiting for them to invite you to the party, you became the party.”

“Exactly. I became so wild and fun, it was impossible to ignore me.”

“It seems we both made it out okay.” He raises his wine glass across the table. I extend my own toward him until a clear
clink
rings out.

“Minimal damage all around. A true cause for celebration.” I return my glass to the table and rest my fork and knife on my empty plate. “This was the most delicious meal I’ve had in ages. I hope the dessert I brought isn’t a letdown.”

“I’m sure it will be delicious. I’ll grab some plates.” He pushes back his chair and starts to stand, but I stop him.

“Actually, we need to go into the other room to enjoy this.” I sashay into the living room. I don’t have to look over my shoulder; I know he’s following.

“
W
ell
, I admire your determination. I’ll say that.”

“You’re going to be admiring a hell of a lot more than that in a few seconds,” she says as she shrugs out of her dress and kicks off her heels. Her tiny lace underthings don’t leave much to the imagination. She puts her hands on her hips and faces me in all her glory.

My temperature starts to rise, and my cock twitches in my pants.

“You’re hot as hell, Caroline, but it’s not going to work. We only have to wait three more days according to our deal. We’ve made it this long, we’ll make it until the end.”

“I didn’t say we had to have sex. I was thinking we could just roll around on the sofa, grind on each other, and talk about all the naughty things we’re going to do in 72 hours. I’ll leave my thong on and you can leave you boxers on.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Really? Because that bulge in your pants says otherwise.” She moves closer and puts her hand on my throbbing hard-on. “Things have been going so well between us, I just want to be wrapped in your arms.”

I’m tempted. God knows I am. I want her underneath me; I want to thrust into her tight pussy until we both get what we need.

“Or . . .” She says with a naughty little smile.

“Or?” What is my little minx up to now? She rests her hand against my chest.

“I still haven’t tasted you, and it’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

God, she’s always pushing my limits. She rubs against my thigh as she continues.

“Wouldn’t it feel better with my hot little mouth wrapped around you?” She slides her hand inside the waist of my pants and reaches into my boxer briefs. She strokes my thick cock with a tantalizing touch. “Just let me have one little lick. Let me take care of the precum that’s dripping down your hard cock.” She runs a finger up the underside of my shaft, collecting the clear fluid on her fingertip before dipping it into her mouth and sucking on her finger.

“Christ!” I’m too weak to argue with her. All I can picture is that hot, eager mouth swallowing me up, and I’m desperate to feel her on me. I yank down my pants and my erection springs free. I sit on the sofa and offer her my throbbing cock.

She doesn’t disappoint. Her tongue runs along the underside of my shaft, lapping the tender skin there. She holds me in her hands and gently kisses the sides of my thick cock and then flutters her tongue around the sensitive head. I’m dying to be in her mouth, to feel her suck me, but, after all her begging and pleading, she makes me wait for it. She strokes me with a torturously light touch as her mouth moves to my balls. She bats them around with her tongue and rubs them on her face as she inhales deeply. She takes them into her mouth, one at a time and sucks them. I’m in heaven.

A warm hand replaces her mouth on my sac. She looks up at me as her mouth hovers over my cock.

“You like that big cock in your mouth, don’t you, my sweet girl.”

She nods up at me with a smile.

“Then suck me off,” I say.

She moans as she takes me into her mouth, keeping her eyes locked on mine the entire time. I’m the one who breaks first, the one who closes my eyes and looks away. Because if I watch her struggle to take my thick shaft for one more second, I’m going to lose it. And what she’s doing to me feels too good for it to be over already.

I reach down and cradle her head in my hands. Her raw enthusiasm kills me. Her tongue swirls around me as she sucks as much of my length into her mouth as she can. She’s a treasure, this one, and I’m never letting her go.

I’m struggling for control when I notice her hand has dropped away from my shaft and is working furiously between her legs. The thin fabric stretches as she struggles to finger herself harder. My balls tighten, and I empty myself into her mouth. She swallows eagerly but struggles to keep up with my massive load. She sits back on her heels, looking quite pleased with herself, and sucks the last of my cum off her finger.

I sink to the floor next to her and bend her forward, over the sofa cushion. I tear off her lacy thong in one easy motion. She groans as I bury my face in her sweet cunt, groaning as I lick from asshole to clit. She tastes so sweet; I can’t get enough. I just came, but I feel myself getting hard again already.

She shivers each time my tongue grazes her clit. I part her swollen lips with my fingers until that little sensitive nub of flesh is exposed to me, and then I attack it with my mouth.

She cries out, and her legs tremble as I lap against the swollen nub. I ease one finger inside of her as I start to suck her clit, and she explodes against me. She bucks against my face and I press myself to her. I move my hands to her hips and hold her to me like a vice. Her orgasm subsides, and she struggles to free herself from my mouth, but I don’t relent; I’m determined to force another orgasm from her sweet pussy.

Her nails claw at the leather sofa while my mouth works frantically against her. Her grunts and groans and squeals are the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard, and I want more. I trace her folds with my tongue as I rub her clit with my fingers. I lick my way back to her puckered opening and lay the flat of my tongue over her tender pink rosette. She gasps, and I start to move my tongue in slow circles. I slide a finger inside her pussy as I tend to her asshole. My other hand massages her clit, and it’s not long before she’s lost again.

She collapses in my lap, and we hold each other tight. I kiss her forehead and her neck as she curls against my chest.

“Caroline, I adore you,” I whisper into her ear.

“I’ve never been happier, and it’s all because of you.” She tilts her face up and kisses me. “So, what are we doing on Friday?”

“Actually. I’m having a cocktail party for my employees. Some of our clients will be there as well. I’d love for you to join us; I really want to introduce you to everyone.”

“That sounds fun,” she says.

“Yeah? I was hoping you’d be game.”

“And imagine all the fun we’ll have after, because I know you know what Friday is.”

“Day 30.” I can’t keep the silly grin off my face.