Nick frowns. “That doesn’t seem like a good business move.”
I don’t answer him, because I have no answer for him. He’s not wrong. I know Sal refuses to help because he just doesn’t want me to have any kind of control over anything, even the business I started myself. Never mind I started it with his money.
“Like I said,” I finally offer, “long story.”
He moves closer to me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “You have an excellent product here, Sarah. You need somebody to help you out, put some money into this business.”
“I know that.”
Something’s rolling around in Nick’s head; I can tell by the way his eyes go distant for a few seconds. Then, abruptly, he comes back to himself and looks directly at me. “Sal’s an asshole. And he’s not a good businessman, if this is any indication.”
I can’t answer. He’s trapped me in his gaze, in the grasp of his fingers on my shoulder. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be alone with this man, shouldn’t be letting him touch me. Sal would kill me if he knew. Probably literally.
“Look—” I start, but he breaks me off with his mouth against mine. His fingers tighten on my shoulder, and then his other hand comes up to grasp the other shoulder.
Automatically I open to him. His tongue presses inside, and I respond with my own, tangling with his as he explores my mouth. My whole body’s melting, and I reach up to grab his arms to hold myself steady. I feel like I could collapse to the floor, my knees weak and wobbly.
And he keeps kissing me. I’ve never been kissed quite like this before. Sal’s always rough, peremptory. Kissing to him is nothing but a quick thing to get out of the way before he heads on toward the main course. Before Sal—well, there’s not much before Sal for me. I was never much of a social butterfly.
So I just respond, ignoring the little voice in the back of my head that tells me this is a horrible, horrible idea. Then Nick draws back and looks down into my face. One hand lifts from my shoulder to cup my face. Before I quite know what he’s doing, he shifts again and lifts me, both hands cupping my buttocks, and sits me on the counter behind me. The first thing I think is that I’ll have flour all over my ass, and wow, won’t that be attractive, but then his mouth latches to mine again and I can’t think much about anything at all.
I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him a little closer. I want nothing more than to just get deeper and deeper inside his mouth. Or at least that’s what I think until his hands slide up under my shirt, pushing it half off me, exposing my bra. Then he’s under the bra, too, and one hand has closed around my breast. And then I know I want so much more than just his kisses. I want him on me, over me, inside me.
What the hell is going on here? I suppose somebody would call it chemistry, the way we seem to be setting each other off. They’d probably not be wrong, but there’s one thing I know about chemistry, and that’s that sometimes if you do the wrong thing, stuff explodes. And people die.
I draw back a little. “Nick…”
“No, Sarah. Give me just a minute more.”
Fine. I don’t really want to fight him anyway, except I’m scared not to. Nobody’s here to see you, I tell myself. Nobody will ever know. That’s enough to quiet the voices in my head, at least for now.
He’s toying with my breast, his thumb plucking at my nipple, and I’m melting under the contact. I want to give myself over to him completely. It’s like we’re stoking a fire where none has been before. Compared to anything I’ve ever felt for anyone else, this is a conflagration.
I can’t fight it anymore. I do what I want to do, which is sliding my hands down the back of his trousers. I go right under the cotton underwear and cup his ass with both hands, dragging him closer and wrapping my thighs around his hips. His glutes tighten under my fingers and he thrusts up against me. I can feel his dick, hard and hot through his clothes, through my clothes. His ass fills my hands just perfectly, and I scratch at his skin with my nails, feeling the tight muscles, the rough hair. It’s so wrong for me to want him like this, but God, I do. I really do.
His mouth draws back from mine, and I let out a small sound of protest. I don’t want this to end. Not ever. His lips tickle against my ear. “I want to fuck you so bad right now.”
“Yes,” I say without thinking, and he chuckles.
“We can’t. Not right here.”
“Why not?” I’ve lost all sense, obviously.
“Well, first of all, it’s a commercial kitchen. Having sex in here is probably not the most hygienic thing. Second, it’s broad daylight, and there’s a chance somebody might come looking for you.”