Dirty Chef - Page 34

“Sit on me,” I said and nipped at her bottom lip.

It was too dark to detect any blush, but I knew my girl.

I also knew I had to tread carefully about the damn shirt. She wasn’t likely gonna lose it anytime soon.

She carefully hitched a leg over my middle and straddled my hips.

I cursed at the vision.

“I can’t get enough of you.” I sat up and brushed my hands up her thighs. “You’re out of this world, Alessia.”

She buried her face against my neck. “So are you.”

She didn’t get it.

“Look at me, baby.” I palmed her cheek, and she reluctantly left her hiding spot and rested her forehead against mine instead. That worked. “Good girl. Keep looking at me.” I slipped a hand between her thighs and stroked two fingers over her pussy. Those panties had to go, at least. “I’m not gonna ask you to take the shirt off until you’re comfortable. Just know that your body drives me fucking wild.”

I was fairly sure she could feel the effect she had on me right now.

She didn’t say anything, and I didn’t care. Nobody knew her body language better than me. She relaxed a bit, and her eyes became hooded with lust. One day, Jesus Christ, I was gonna make sure she knew what she did to me. What she’d done to me—for over a decade.

“You wanna lose the panties for me?” I flicked the tip of my tongue at her upper lip, and she exhaled shakily. “I’m gonna get you off either way.” To prove my point, I pushed the fabric aside and slid my middle finger inside her. She bit her lip. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Your choice, love. Either I suck on your sweet clit through the panties or—”

“Oh God—okay, okay.” She swallowed audibly and squirmed her way out of the damn underwear.

I took the opportunity to flip her over onto her back, and I gave her no warning before I got comfortable between her thighs and I buried my tongue in her.

“Fuck!” she cried out.

Eleven

Adam Grady

Another thing we’d have to work on: waking up together.

Emphasis on together, because I was alone when I woke up.

I yawned and scrubbed at my face, and then I glanced around to find the nearest clock. The woman didn’t have an alarm clock on her nightstand.

She did, however, have a regular clock on the wall above the door, and my eyes almost bugged out. Holy shit, I hadn’t slept this late since I’d worked in New York.

11:35 a.m.

I groaned as I left the bed. Christ. If Alessia were here now, she’d poke fun at me for my “old-man noises.” Rotating my shoulder, I trailed out of her bedroom, naked as the day I was born, and there was no sign of Alessia in the living room or kitchen either. All right, I’d track her down somehow. Maybe she was downstairs. I had to prepare the rest of the food for Grady Night tomorrow, and she’d said she wanted to make the dessert.

After locating my phone and seeing there were no messages on it, I fired off a quick text to Alessia.

I woke up alone, and now I gotta shower alone too. This is fucked up.

I tossed my phone on my bed and headed into my bathroom.

* * *

I frowned as I checked my phone on the way out the door.

Still no response.

I twisted my ball cap backward and wondered if anything was wrong. She’d told me there were no regrets. Hell, we’d fucked twice before crashing, completely exhausted. She’d been all snuggled up and buck naked in my arms where she belonged.

Before the screen on my phone went dark again, I saw it was past noon, and a thought hit me.

She wouldn’t.

I hurried inside again and stalked into the kitchen where I checked our monthly schedule.

Garrett, 11:30, Lunch.

I refused to believe it. Not after the night we’d shared. The woman was all heart, and she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

I was her favorite fucking fly, goddammit.

My phone buzzed, and I instantly thought it was her. But it was Tracy.

Hey. At the restaurant starting prep for tonight. You on your way? I didn’t know Alessia was seeing anyone. Must be serious if she’s meeting him here.

I let out a laugh. I didn’t even know why. My insides twisted with nausea and anger, all while I had a voice going on repeat in my head. She’s a good person, she’s a wonderful person, she’s a motherfucking sweetheart. There had to be a misunderstanding.

But no matter what, she wasn’t gonna date some asshole in our restaurant. She wasn’t gonna date anyone, period. She was gonna take my last name and be done with all those dating apps.

What on earth was running through her head? Did she think I’d only want one night or some shit?

I shook my head and stalked out again, slamming the door shut after me, and then I was jogging down the stairs and building up the mother of all speeches.

Tags: Cara Dee Romance
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