Page 11 of Say Yes to the Chef

I unlock the sliding glass door and pull it open for him. As he steps past me, the scent of coconut hits my nose. It’s exotic and tropical, like this extravagant resort. Like his delicious cooking. I want to roll in it, bask in that scent.

“You smell so good,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Thank you.” He turns back to face me. Waiting.

Our eyes lock.

I swallow hard, the sound audible in the silence of my suite.

“Do you want to…” He motions toward me.

Do I want to… what?Strip him out of his clothes and climb him like a palm tree? Cover myself in his coconut-ancho chile cream sauce and allow him to lick me clean?

He raises his eyebrows and his lips twitch on the ghost of a smile.

Yikes.Did I say that last bit out loud?

“Do you want to close the door?”

“Oh!”Oh god.I refrain from smacking myself across the forehead but the urge is strong. Instead, I turn my back to the young chef and slide the door closed, then pull the curtains across.

I’m so bad at this.

This.

Whatisthis?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I breathe deeply, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. It’s just a one-night stand, right? No need to overthink it—

His hand finds my waist and I suck in a breath. My eyes pop open. With the curtains closed, I can’t see him in the reflection of the glass door, but oh how I want to.

He spider-walks his fingers to my stomach, then splays his hand over the soft belly that I’ve never been able to get rid of. I’m a statue, frozen in place, not even daring to breathe as this man feels his way over my skin. His touch sends sparks of electricity through my veins; my flesh jumps beneath his palm. His nose finds my ear, nudges, then he breathes deeply. “You smell good, too.”

“Thank y—”

He places a soft, open-mouthed kiss against my throat, just below my ear, then licks up to pull my earlobe between his teeth.

My eyes drift closed.

His breath is hot against my ear and I shiver.

“Is this okay?”

I nod, then whisper, “Yes.”

He kisses my throat again, then runs his hand back across my belly, dancing along the waist of my bikini bottoms. “When I saw you this afternoon,” he says, “in the lobby…” Another kiss against my throat. A quick lick of my earlobe. “You were so beautiful, taking it all in. I couldn’t move. The way you tilted your head back… the slope of your throat…”His tongue darts out to taste my neck again as his hand creeps upward to trail his fingertips from my collarbone to my chin and back down again. His fingers travel south between my breasts, then over to one side, and when his thumb grazes the bottom swell of my right breast, I stop breathing.

“I’ve thought about you all day,” Marco says, repeating his words from earlier as he pulls me tightly against the hardness of his body. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

It takes a second to push past the fog of desire he’s ignited within me, but then I think back to the delicious chef’s tasting experience and nod. “Oh, yes.” The words come out breathless, needy.

He chuckles at the sound, then his other hand finds my side and he moves both hands up to cup my breasts.

I moan and lean back against him.

He makes an appreciative sound deep in his chest and begins to massage my breasts, cupping them gently as if he’s assessing the weight of them in his palms. “Is this still okay?”

“Yes.”God, is it ever.

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