Forbidden Lust

Lourde: Good

Barrett:Not for food.

My stomach flipped, and a grin spread into my cheeks.

Lourde:A man’s got to eat.

Barrett:Oh, I'll eat.

Exhilaration shot up my spine. Anticipation for our evening ahead was too much. Quickly, I ran upstairs and changed into my favorite lingerie piece, the emerald green set, and threw my sundress over it. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

As I walked down the stairs, I heard the front door click open, followed by footsteps. When I reached the final step, there he stood in his crisp white shirt and navy suit that molded to his broad shoulders.

“Hey, handsome,” I said, staring into his dark eyes. At this level, we were the same height.

I pecked him on the cheek, and he glared at me with a perplexed look on his face. “Is this what husbands and wives do?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” The thought of greeting Barrett every day sent a blush up my neck.

“I’m getting changed.” He side-eyed me then disappeared, taking the stairs two at a time.

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t know what came over me. I just leaned up to kiss him. He looked handsome, arrogant, and strong in his suit. His scent of wood and leather was too nice to pass up.

I seared the steak in the hot griddle pan, making the crisscross lines on it, and paired it with blanched beans and almond flakes drizzled with butter. Even my mouth was watering.

Walking down in casual sweatpants, he pulled over a white shirt, his muscle pack flexed and moved with the motion.

“Let's eat,” he said, staring at me.

Fuck the food.I couldn’t care less now.

But he sat down, which was a cue for me to get the plates and forget about his blinding muscles until later.

“Smells good, Lourde.”

“Steak, rare, with green beans.”

“I can see that.” He grinned, slicing into it.

It was perfectly cooked, too, by the color of pink on his slice.

“I didn’t know you cooked.”

“We have chefs, but I like to join them in the kitchen sometimes.”

“Why?” And what do Mommy and Daddy think about consorting with the help?”

“They don’t know.”

“Ah-ha.”

“Well, Mom caught me there once. The pastry chef, Tatiana, was teaching me how to roll out and make croissants, which is a serious art, by the way. Since then, I usually sneak in when Mom’s out shopping or with her friends.”

“Well, cook for me anytime. I mostly eat out.”

“Alone?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes for dinner meetings like the other night in the hotel.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“No.” He shrugged. “I like it alone.”

“I see. So, how was your day anyway?”

“Now, you sound like a wife.”

I laughed, and the corners of his mouth peeled into a smile. “Long.”

“Any closer to completing that hotel deal?”

“Soon now.”

“Oh?” I put down my cutlery. “So that means you’ll go back too?”

He looked at me, heat pooling behind his eyes. “I’m the boss, Lourde. I can do what I want.”

Why did I feel we weren’t talking about work anymore?

“And what is it you want?” I lowered my voice to a whisper.

“Right now? Dessert.” He pushed his plate to the side.