It wasn’t that they were bothering me, it was that I loved being alone in this place.
As sous chef, I had the rare privilege of closing by myself. I had my own set of keys—I could open by myself too. Wyatt and Ezra had entrusted me with a lot when Killian had left, and I was only now feeling gratitude to them.
Dropping my cleaning towel on the counter behind me, I turned around and admired the gleaming kitchen I busted my ass in day and night.
I had been so angry at Wyatt for waltzing into the head chef position unchallenged, so frustrated that the job had been handed to him on a silver platter, that I hadn’t considered how hard he’d worked for it before Killian had left.
This had been Wyatt’s job during Killian’s regime. He’d been second in command. He’d worked these insane hours. He’d never gotten days or nights or holidays off. He’d been here from open till close every single day. There were days he worked harder and longer and more ferociously than Killian did.
I knew, because that was what I was doing now.
And on top of that, he’d had a relationship with Killian, a friendship that existed long before Lilou and James Beard Awards.
The executive chef job at Lilou was never mine. It was never mine to claim or fight for or want.
In the still quiet of the kitchen at the end of a long, hard day, I could finally admit that to myself. I could finally rest in the truth that this job was, is, and will always be Wyatt’s.
And that was okay. Because there were other kitchens out there for me. I would take every second of experience and training I could get from this place. I would take the long hours and turn them into an indomitable work ethic. I would take the grueling demands and insane expectations and turn them into my version of perfection. I would take my difficult coworkers, my impossible boss, and the demanding, never-satisfied customers and create my own style of leadership. And I would take my success here, my steady climb up the hierarchy, my stellar reputation, and turn it into more success, more of a meteoric rise, more of an industry-wide reputation that came with accolades and household name recognition.
My rise wouldn’t happen overnight or even in the next several years, but I was in it for the long game. This was a marathon not a sprint, and I planned to finish this race as strong and solid as I started.
My fingers wrapped around the edge of the counter, the steel edge biting into my tender palms, but I couldn’t help but smile. There was something different about tonight, about being alone in such a renowned kitchen. I could feel success skittering up my spine. I could taste victory dancing on my tongue. I could practically see the future and it included everything I’d hoped for… my very own dreams coming true.
I didn’t know if that was Sarita or not. Ezra’s arrival back in Durham meant shit just got real. No more practicing. No more pretending. I would have to face him and his judgment. Was I up to that challenge? I might have only gotten practice at Sarita doing front of house tasks, but I had a career in the kitchen gleaned from my efforts at Lilou. I knew how to run a kitchen. But would I be enough for Sarita?
Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I swallowed a scream and swiveled to face the intruder. My hands patted the counter blindly, searching for a knife or sauté pan or something I could use to defend myself.
“It’s me,” Wyatt soothed, his voice a calming rumble.
“God, you scared me,” I accused him. My heartbeat slowly began to calm down and my breathing returned to normal. “I thought you went home for the night.”
“I forgot something,” he said.
I ignored the thoughtful way he was looking at me, the way his eyes had darkened and heated, laser focusing on me.
How long had he been standing there? I’d only noticed him a few seconds ago, but he looked so… fixated.
My body knew the answer, but my brain forced my mouth to ask the question anyway. “What did you forget?”
He crossed the kitchen in six long strides, reaching me on the seventh. One hand slid around my waist, bringing my body flush with his. The other glided over my jawline, tipping my head back so he could steal a kiss from my mouth.
His mouth was so hungry, so completely desperate for mine that I couldn’t do anything else but submit. I was helpless against his tsunami of desire. He swept me off my feet and into the devastation that was Wyatt wanting something.
And that something was me.
I kissed him back—that was the only logical response, the only reaction my body was capable of making.
It was this man. No matter how much I talked myself out of a physical reaction with him, I had to admit to myself that I wanted him. And who wouldn’t?
Yes, he was inhumanly gorgeous to look at. And his tattoos perfectly tempting. But it was more than that.
It was the way he looked at me across our busy kitchen, the way his eyes burned hotter than the flames we cooked with. It was his tragic story he shared with me on Tuesday morning and the way he pulled on my heartstrings because of the little boy he was, the same little boy I sometimes still saw in him.
He’d snared me with his rare smiles and even rarer laughter and the way he commanded the kitchen so fiercely. He’d captured me with the flawless way he cooked and his relentless expectations of perfection. It was the way he respected and trusted me and didn’t think he could handle this kitchen without me. It was this thing that had been simmering between us for years and years. This thing that I was only willing now to admit existed. This thing that was threatening to consume me entirely, drown me in the sheer force of it.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on as the storm between us grew more electric. Our mouths fought, and our tongues warred. We were comfortable with this now, we knew each other’s curves and angles. He preferred having my top lip and I wanted to nibble his bottom. We’d developed this greedy synchronicity between us, our constant push and pull, bringing the desire between us to a boil.
His mouth moved to pay attention to my jawline, my ear, my neck. His hand reached up and flicked open the remaining buttons of my coat that were still clasped. I started to shake off the coat and he helped by tearing it from my arms.
He’d lost his hours ago and stood pressed against me in only a thin t-shirt and pants. But they were too much. I couldn’t stand anything separating us. Now that I’d given into this, I wanted him stripped bare. I wanted all of him.
Every part of him.
My fingers gripped the edges of his shirt and tugged. “Are we alone?” I asked as I tasted his earlobe for the first time. God, he was decadent, rich, like the best meal I’d ever had. I wanted more. And more. And more.
“Totally,” he confirmed. “The doors are locked.”
Together we ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere… else. He crashed against me, his skin unbelievably hot. He pressed his chest to mine and a breathy moan escaped the back of my throat.
“This is crazy,” I murmured, trailing kisses along his hairline as he dipped his head to kiss the tops of my breasts.
As if the taste wasn’t enough, he cupped my breast with his large hand and squeeze, his thumb brushing over my nipple, teasing, tantalizing, tearing down whatever remained of the walls I’d built to keep him out.
He pulled his head back, so he could meet my eyes. His were so dark, so perfectly deep and warm. “Not crazy,” he said firmly. “It’s a long time coming.”
I smiled because what else was I supposed to do? I wanted to ask him only a hundred questions to get to the bottom of that infuriating and cryptic response, but I couldn’t seem to form the words.
He stepped closer to me, letting me feel his body against the most intimate part of mine. I hadn’t thought we could get closer.
I was wrong.
His thumb brushed over my nipple again. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he ordered. “And I will.”
“Don’t stop,” I begged, sounding more desperate than I had intended to. “Please, don’t stop.”
Half his
mouth lifted in that smile I was officially addicted to. “Tell me if you want me to. At any time. Tell me, okay?”
I nodded.
“When’s the last time you were tested?”
His question shook me awake from the lustful coma I’d slipped into. Tested. Tested for what? Oh, god, that.
“The last time I was with someone,” I told him honestly. “It’s been a really long time.” A really, really long time.
His question effectively doused cold water on my hormones and I was able to cock an eyebrow, demanding an answer to the same question from him. “You?”
“Same,” he answered on a mumble. His hands grabbed the back of my thighs and hitched them around his waist. I let out a yelp and clutched his shoulders as he settled me on the counter. “I’m clean.”
“Me too,” I whispered as his body moved into my core, making my eyelids flutter closed.
His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and then his fingertips dipped into my hair, pulling my head back to look at him. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Kaya. A very long time. But if you need me to stop. If you’re not ready… tell me. I can wait.”
There was this defiant witch inside of me that had to know more. I wanted this too. And maybe, if I was honest with myself, I could admit that I’d wanted it for way longer. But I couldn’t let him get away with… getting his way. I was too used to fighting him to give him what he wanted without at least a small argument. “But how long will you wait?”
He didn’t seem amused by my question. He leaned forward, forcing me to tip back on my elbows. His chest brushed mine. His tattoos winked at me, inviting me to touch them, taste them… suck on them until I’d left my mark. “A lot longer than you’ll make me.”
My mouth dropped open. “What does that mean?”
He grinned. No half smile or wicked smirk. This was a full on, blinding, both-sides-of-his mouth smile. “It means, we can play this game till the end of time and two things will remain true. One, you want me. You’ve wanted me for a long time. You want this to happen. And I’m very willing to oblige you. And two? I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time. I’ve wanted you for so long, you’re the only thing I can remember wanting. I want you and I’m willing to wait as long as it takes to have you. You get me? We can do this cat and mouse thing for however long you need to do it, but I know both of us are ready to play a different kind of game.”
His head dropped so he could kiss and suck his way over my collarbone. I closed my eyes and tried to catch the spinning thoughts in my head, to make sense of them.
“Kaya,” Wyatt taunted, his voice low and growly. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” I whispered without thinking. No more fighting. He was right. We both wanted this.
We both couldn’t stand not having it for another second.
His mouth found mine again, followed by a desperate collision of our bodies, both of us needing to taste each other more than we needed air. He wasn’t gentle this time and I wasn’t either.
We consumed each other, grabbing, clawing, demanding more and more and more. He tore my tank off, exposing me in a way I hadn’t been for so long. I had a second’s hesitation, of fear and insecurity, while he pulled back to stare at my nearly naked torso.
“Goddamn,” he whispered reverently, erasing whatever self-esteem issue I was wrestling with. “I knew they would be beautiful, but fuck, Kaya. They’re magnificent.”
I let out a giddy laugh at his assessment of my breasts. “You’re ridiculous.”
His mouth descended on my left nipple as if he couldn’t stand waiting for another second. “You’re delicious,” he countered, his tongue flicking over the right spot.
He pulled my bra cup down, so he could taste my bare flesh. We moaned together. My fingers fumbled to unclasp the damn thing as quickly as possible. As soon as it went slack in his hands, he tore the thing from my body, covering my breasts with his gigantic hands almost immediately.
I looked down at his tan skin against the milky white of mine, tattoos snaking over his hands, wrapping around his fingers and I nearly orgasmed on the spot. Wyatt’s body was a work of art. From the gauges in his ears to the colored ink covering all his exposed skin, he wore his self-expression as skin, daring anyone that could see him to know him.
But did anybody know him?
Jo thought he was fragile. Dillon and Vera thought he was invincible. Killian treated him like a little brother.
All of these titles and perceptions were wrong. All of them.
He wasn’t fragile; he was stupidly arrogant, open, and ready to face whatever this world threw at him.
He wasn’t invincible. He was vulnerable when the moment called for it. Gentle when I needed him to be. Willing to admit his mistakes and ask for help.
And he wasn’t little anywhere. Or in anything. He was imposing and dominating and… overwhelming.
They didn’t know him. I wasn’t even sure I knew him.
Not completely anyway. And even though the ghosts of my past whispered that now was the time to run, before I got too invested, before he saw too much of me, I couldn’t.
Not now. Maybe not ever.
Wyatt had sunk beneath my skin and made a bed in the secret places of me that I’d desperately tried to hide from him. He hadn’t been willing to wait or sit back. He hadn’t even asked for permission. He’d… taken. And now I was afraid he’d never give back.
While he paid my breasts special attention, I became greedy to explore him. I reached for his belt, bringing his pelvis to my core again. He pressed against me and for a moment my attention was derailed. My eyelids slammed shut at his sharp intake of air.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
“More,” I gasped at the same time.
My fingers fumbled, desperate to unbuckle his belt, to get rid of these pants that were so irritatingly in the way.
I felt him smile against my skin. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, his lips hot and soft against my skin. “Let’s go a little slower, yeah? I’ve been waiting long enough, I think I deserve to enjoy this.”
Enjoy this?
Enjoy me?
Oh God.
Still, I couldn’t help myself. There had always been a push and pull between us, a constant tug of war that neither of us could let go of. “You deserve to enjoy this? That seems a little entitled.”
He pushed my body back on the counter, pressing down fully on top of me, pressing our most intimate parts closer together. His fingers entwined with mine, spreading my arms wide so I felt completely exposed to him.
“I’ve earned it, chef.” His head dipped so he could nip at the curve of my jaw. “I want you slow, Kaya. I want to savor this. Make it last as long as possible. Make you last as long as possible. And I’m going to savor every single second.”
Before I could argue, he started trailing kisses down my throat, over my breasts, down my bare stomach until my pants barred him from going further.
He raised his torso enough to flick open the button fly of my linen pants. His fingers hooked inside the waistband of my panties and with one firm tug, he removed both items of clothing.
My legs kicked out at his surprise attack, but he caught my ankles before I flailed too wildly. With complete confidence—the same way he did everything—he rested my feet on the cool counter, my knees bent, my sex exposed to him in a way that made my breath hitch with nerves.
I self-consciously covered my breasts with my arms, desperate for some modicum of control. Very suddenly I felt upended, turned inside out. Wyatt had managed to take the lead somehow and I was left struggling to catch my breath trailing after his reckless need.
My heart hammered against my breastbone and my skin prickled with both anticipation and anxieties. I should be thinking about what would happen after tonight, about how we would ever come back from this moment, how we could ever work together again… or look at each other again… or—
His mouth touched the most intimate part of me and my train of thou
ght fizzled beneath a blazing sizzle of desire. He kissed me there like he kissed my mouth, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of me, the taste of me.
He used his tongue, his teeth, and his fingers the way I had watched him cook for all these years, with absolute certainty and graceful deftness. My back arched off the cold counter as my hands searched for something to grasp onto.
The sensation was too much—too sharp, too real, too… intense. “Wyatt,” I panted, not knowing if I wanted him to stop or keep going. “Oh God, Wyatt.”
He lifted his head to meet my eyes. His were dark pools of desire. His finger slid into me, sending me closer to oblivion. “Don’t fight me on this, Kaya,” he demanded. Another finger joined the first. “Not on this.” His mouth closed around me once more, sending me over the edge into an abyss of light and tensed muscles and the most delicious feeling of my life.
My body contracted around him, trapping his hand within me as my thighs squeezed his head unwilling to let him go until I absolutely had to.
He lifted his gaze to meet mine, his expression was lazy satisfaction that nearly sent me over the edge once again. Slowly, reluctantly, he slid his fingers out of me and I shivered, still so sensitive.
I stared up at him, expecting him to move on to the next course. I waited for him to undo his belt or rip his pants off superman style or something. But instead, he leaned over me, his hands resting on either side of my head. He made a contented sound in the back of his throat and belatedly I realized that was all he planned to do tonight.
Huh?
Didn’t he want to…?
Taking things into my own hands, I locked my legs around his waist and invited him forward. My cheeks were already flushed. Otherwise, they would have blushed tomato red at the demand I forced out. “We can’t be finished yet. We’re just getting started.”
Half his mouth lifted in that crooked grin I was starting to love. “I don’t have a condom,” he explained.
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him incredulously. “What? Did you check your wallet?”
He dropped his head, laughing at my question. When he looked at me again, it was from underneath his lashes. His eyes still hadn’t lost their electricity or their need. A tremor rocked through me again. I could feel him still, his hard length pressed against me, begging for attention, demanding we finish what we started.