Virgin's Sweet Rebellion

He cleared their plates and after he’d disappeared into the kitchen, Olivia rose from the table, too restless to sit still any longer. Her whole body pulsed with expectation; she felt too alive and excited to feel any fear or nervousness now.

Soon...soon Ben would touch her. Kiss her with that wildness she remembered, the unrestrained urgency that thrilled her to her core. Soon she would know what it was like to be possessed by him completely...

She paced the elegant confines of the restaurant, the city spread out in a map of twinkling lights all around her. Where was Ben? He’d been gone for ten minutes at least, and each minute had stretched on endlessly as she waited. Waited and wanted...

But why should she wait a moment longer? She might be inexperienced, but that didn’t mean she had to be shy. Turning on her heel, desire firing her resolve, Olivia made her way to the kitchen.

* * *

Ben stared at the boiling mess with exasperation. Okay, maybe chocolate fondue hadn’t been the best choice for dessert. He’d wanted something romantic and sensual, but he also hadn’t wanted to be a slave to the kitchen. So he’d put the chocolate on a double boiler to melt with the cream on low heat while he and Olivia had eaten their main course.

And ended up with a boiling, frothing fondue because he hadn’t paid attention to the time. He’d been too busy enjoying himself, revelling in the time he’d spent with Olivia—and the knowledge of the time they’d have later. Watching her eat, seeing how her throat worked as she sipped her wine, even just the way she’d held her fork...all of it had been the most exquisite form of torture.

But now dessert was nearly ruined. Quickly he tossed in a knob of butter and a little water to smooth out the fondue. He whisked briskly, wondering what Olivia was thinking as she waited by herself in the restaurant. Wishing he hadn’t been quite so clever in deciding to cook for her, but cooking was the best way he knew of showing someone he cared.

And do you care about Olivia?

‘Ben?’

He looked up, saw her standing amidst the hanging pots and stainless-steel counters. She gave him one of her playful smiles, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, and his chest—his whole body—ached with longing.

‘Sorry. Slight dessert emergency.’

She came forward, her hips swaying, the glittery fabric of her dress moulding to her breasts. ‘What happened?’

‘The fondue boiled over. I’m afraid the company was just too scintillating and I forgot about it.’

She gave him a mischievous look and then dipped her finger into the chocolate, bringing it to her lips and then slowly licking it off. Sweet heaven.

‘Tastes all right to me,’ she said, and he nearly dropped the whisk. Dropped everything so he could take her in his arms and kiss the chocolate from her mouth.

‘There are strawberries and pineapple to go with it,’ he said, his voice coming out a little hoarse.

‘Strawberries?’ Olivia’s mouth curved in invitation. Ben could see a little dab of chocolate on the corner of her mouth and he suppressed the very deep and primal urge to lick it off.

‘Yes...’

She reached forward, giving him a fantastic view of her cleavage, and took a strawberry from the bowl he’d put out. She dipped it in the chocolate and then slowly, languorously, licked it off. Ben groaned aloud.

‘Olivia...you’re killing me here.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Then you must be on a suicide mission. Why don’t you come over here and put us both out of our misery?’

He hesitated, not because he didn’t want to, because God knew he did, more than anything else, but because he’d had a plan. Dessert and a build-up of desire and expectation, and then he’d take her back to her suite and make love to her slowly, sweetly. He’d keep it gentle and safe, which was what a woman’s first time needed to be. What he needed it to be.

‘Ben.’ She put her hands on her hips, shook her hair back as she levelled him with a look of pure, insistent desire. ‘Kiss me.’

He couldn’t say no to that. One kiss, and then they’d go back to her suite with the candles and the rose petals and the romance. One little kiss.

He tossed the whisk aside and took her in his arms, brushing his mouth against hers. She tasted of strawberries and chocolate and he couldn’t get enough. He kissed her again, deeper this time, sliding his tongue into the softness of her mouth as a groan of pure longing escaped him and the need overtook him, banishing any resolutions he’d had.

Her arms twined around his neck and she pressed her body against him so he could feel the softness of her breasts, the sweet juncture of her thighs. He groaned again, his fingers itching to slide under the slippery material of her dress, to feel the satin of her skin against his palms...