Page 25 of Burning Rivalry

Only once I reached the prep table did I remember he’d asked a question. What was it? “I call it my personal life, which is private.”

He stood across from me, his palms on the stainless-steel surface, a smirk twisting his mouth. “The stupid asshole cheated on you, didn’t he?”

My entire body cringed at the memory, but I forced myself to focus on the waxed paper wrapping around the butter. “I thought I just said my life was private.”

“It’s a simple question.”

Oh, sure. So simple. He wanted answers? Fine. He’d get them. My head snapped up, and I felt heat rushing to my cheeks before I spat, “Yes. He did. With a friend of mine,” I added, spitting out the word. “Or I thought she was. We were supposed to work together. Instead, I walked in on them fucking in my bed. All of a sudden, I developed a craving for desert life.”

“He’s a stupid bastard,” he deadpanned.

“Would you look at that? Something we can agree on,” I muttered. What the hell was I doing? This was all wrong. Being here with him like this, the energy in the air, the memories crowding in and filling me with longing. The sort of aching longing that followed loneliness. Rejection. They had made me feel so small and unwanted. Replaceable.

“Hey, look at me.”

That was the problem. If I looked at him, I might not be able to stop looking. Wanting. Hating myself for being so needy. “I can’t,” I whispered.

“Why?” He was rounding the table, taking one slow step after another, making it impossible to breathe. “Are you so afraid of looking at someone who sees you as more than the girl who was on that cooking show once?”

“Don’t joke about that.” It was enough to make me look up at him, anyway, to steal the breath from my lungs when our gazes locked and forget everything I ever knew—who I was, what I wanted, what it would take to get it. None of that mattered in this moment with Sebastian staring into my soul and my battered heart skipping a beat.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I whispered, searching for answers in his steely eyes. “I keep telling myself to stay away from you. So how am I here, like this?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” He used both hands to brush my hair back from my face and tilt my head back so our mouths would align. His thumbs stroked my cheeks while he continued, “Because I was wondering the same thing. I only know I can’t stand another minute without knowing what your mouth tastes like.” His gaze lowered to my lips, his nostrils flared, and a soft groan stirred in his throat.

Was this a mistake? Did I care anymore about him touching me and staring into my soul? “You’d better find out,” I whispered, straining upward to meet him.

He wasn’t gentle. He did not take his time. No, instead, he claimed my mouth all at once, his kiss urgent, determined, sweeping aside any last lingering doubts in favor of pure sensation. The thrill of giving in, finally getting what I had refused to admit I wanted. Since when did my needs not matter?

God, there was so much of him! His hands were everywhere, lighting my body on fire, giving me no choice but to cling helplessly to him or else drop to the floor when my head started to spin. A whimper passed from my mouth to his, but he only responded by growling, wrapping his arms around me, and lifting me onto the table.

This was wrong. Not here, not now, even if nobody would show up for work until morning, but I wasn’t about to try and stop it. I was through denying myself. Just this once, I would forget my goals and dreams and let myself go.

And I did that by allowing my hands roam over his chest and down his abs, reveling in his rippling muscles. But that wasn’t enough, just like it wasn’t enough for him to feel me up over my shirt and bra while nipping my bottom lip and thrusting his tongue against mine. With a frustrated grunt, I pulled my shirt over my head, squealing when he buried his face in my breasts, letting his lips and tongue explore my skin until I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him closer because, my God, the ache. It was too much.

His delicious, deep growl made my nerves sizzle before he used those big hands on my hips, pulling me close against his insane erection. Just as big as the rest of him, thick, demanding. My already hot, throbbing pussy tightened painfully, aching until I moved my hips in a vain attempt at relief.

“In such a hurry,” he muttered, pulling down my lacy bra cup, taking my nipple in his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers.

“Yes,” I whispered, running my fingers through his thick hair. “Yes, please.” I didn’t even know what I was saying. I only knew what I needed and wanted, and he could give it to me. He had exactly what it would take to wipe the slate clean. To make me forget.

I slid a hand between us, cupping him, craving his throaty growls against my skin. The sound of it was almost as good as the feel of him, his muscles working under his skin, skin I explored once I pulled his shirt free of his waistband. With a grunt, he tore it open, buttons popping off and skittering across the floor. “Touch me,” he growled, dragging his fingers over my skin the way he wanted.

I had to, didn’t I? I had to touch him to finally indulge in what I had craved for weeks. He was like chiseled granite but warm, real, and currently pressed against me.

He lowered me onto my back, and I sucked in a surprised breath at the cold metal against my hot skin. The sensation passed, replaced by the fire that spread through me as he kissed his way down my stomach, swirling his tongue around my navel before his fingers hooked around my leggings’ waistband.

My God, this was happening. I was lifting my hips for him, helping him pull the fabric away from my body, letting him take my thong with him. I opened my eyes, parting my legs, watching as complete hunger washed over him. Greedy, animal hunger that made his ragged breaths come faster.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, slowly lowering himself until he was on his knees. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There he was, kneeling in front of me, propping my feet on his shoulders. There was no buildup, no teasing. He simply lowered his head and buried it in my pussy all at once.

“God!” I shouted into the silent room, my heart pounding out of my chest, my back arching. Too good, all of it. I couldn’t handle it with the presence of his tongue in my folds, licking firmly, hungrily. His soft grunts of pleasure only pushed my pleasure further. Higher. My head rolled from side to side, and a chorus of helpless, guttural moans filled the air. All he did was hold me still, forcing me to take it, giving me more than anyone ever had.

It was happening. I was tightening, the tension in my core reaching its peak. “Yes!” I shouted, practically sobbing while my thighs tightened around his head. “Yes! I’m coming!”

And then I did, shaking in the aftermath, bliss radiating through me as the result of weeks of longing finally came to a head and faded away. Soon, there was nothing but sweet relief. Why the hell did we wait so long for that?

I was the only one relieved. The kisses he delivered to my inner thighs were just as hot, full of need. He was breathing harder than ever by the time he lifted his head. “I could live off your taste,” he rasped, making me shiver. Who wouldn’t want to hear that from a man like him?