Recipe for Temptation (24 page)

They sat close together on the blanket and fed each other, sharing kisses between bites, drinking from the same glass of wine.

It was the most romantic meal Reese had ever had.

And the most stimulating,
she added as she fed Michael a big, juicy grape and watched his lips close around her fingertips. Her nipples tightened, and heat pooled between her legs.

There was a sensual gleam in his eyes as he asked silkily, “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Yes.” Her mouth was watering—and that was before she saw the dessert he removed from the basket. A three-layer confection frosted with creamy chocolate ganache and drizzled with fudge and white chocolate.

“Oh my,” Reese breathed, watching as he cut a thick slice for her. “What
is
that?”

“My triple chocolate cheesecake.” His lips curved. “Or, as I like to call it, chocolate orgasm.”

“Have mercy.”

As he raised a forkful to her lips, she opened and got a mouthful of molten, decadently rich chocolate. She closed her eyes with a deep moan. “Oh, Michael…”

“Good?”

“
Good?
This is
sinful.
I can see why you call it chocolate orgasm.”

He fed her another bite, his gaze intent on her mouth. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, low and husky.

“Like it? I
love
it, Michael. You are truly a chef extraordinaire.”

He smiled, sampling a forkful of the gooey delicacy. “Not bad,” he murmured, slowly licking the fork. “Not bad at all.”

“You and your understatements,” Reese whispered, her breasts throbbing as she watched the snakelike motions of his tongue, reliving all the wicked things that tongue had done to her body.

Catching her hungry gaze, Michael forked up another bite of cake and slid it into her mouth, then fed himself a second piece. By the time the plate was empty, their lips were fused in a ravenous, openmouthed kiss, tongues swirling as they shared a delicious kaleidoscope of flavors.

Reese whimpered in protest as Michael abruptly pulled away.

“Shhh,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her lips as he reached inside the wicker basket with the other hand. “There’s something I’ve been dying to do since the night I met you.”

“What?” she asked dazedly.

He held up a plastic container of melted chocolate sauce, his eyes glinting wickedly.

“I’m going to pour this all over your body and lick it off.”

Reese shivered with arousal, already shimmying out of her denim skirt and panties.

Michael yanked off her tube top, swearing hoarsely when her breasts sprang free.

“No bra?”

“Didn’t need one,” she panted.

He made a guttural sound in his throat. “Lie down,” he commanded.

She did as he told her, trembling with desire and anticipation as he swirled his finger in the container. Then, holding her gaze, he smeared both of her areolas with warm chocolate. Reese groaned, watching as he bent his head and slowly, erotically, licked her nipples clean. Spasms of pleasure speared through her loins.

“Mmmm,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his deep, rumbling voice ratcheting up her need. “You taste better than anything I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

Her belly quivered. She reached for his hand and drew his finger into her mouth, sucking off the last traces of chocolate. “So do you.”

He shuddered, his eyes blazing with fierce arousal. Like an artist creating a masterpiece, he poured several lines of chocolate up and down her trembling stomach. It took Reese a dazed moment to realize that he’d painted an
M
on her. “
M
is for Michael,”

he said in that dark, mesmerizing voice, “because you’re mine. Now spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

When Reese obeyed, he dribbled chocolate between her thighs, coating the swollen folds of her labia and clitoris. The sensation was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She moaned, loud and long.

“This,” Michael murmured, dipping two fingers into her chocolate-drenched sex, “is
definitely
mine.”

Reese couldn’t have argued even if she’d wanted to. When he withdrew his possessive fingers and slid them into his mouth, she nearly lost her damn mind.

“Michael,” she whimpered helplessly. “I’m about to—”

Lowering his head, he captured her mouth in a deep, carnal kiss flavored with chocolate and her own nectar. “Don’t come yet,” he ordered huskily. “I’m just getting started.” Reese groaned.
Heaven help me!

Michael drew away and began moving down her body, his tongue tracing the path of the chocolate
M
he’d painted onto her. Reese shook from the inside out. Feeling wanton, she cupped her breasts and tugged at her aching nipples.

And then Michael’s mouth was on her sex, sucking, lapping at the melted chocolate sauce. She cried out, writhing against him in mindless ecstasy. The stroking motions of his hot, silky tongue were out of this world. She’d never experienced anything like this with Victor. It seemed only fitting that Michael, her fantasy lover, would be the first man ever to find her G-spot
and
give her a chocolate orgasm.

He tongued her like there was no tomorrow, voraciously licking and sucking, making her body weep. When his tongue plunged inside her and swirled around, Reese bucked and arched into him, pleasure cresting over her like a tidal wave. She screamed as she came, and he drew out her orgasm by gently pulling at her clitoris with his teeth.

She was still trembling violently, eyes closed, when she heard a tear of foil—a sound that was pure music to her ears. There was a rustling of fabric as Michael quickly undressed. A moment later he was embedded fully inside her, stretching her, his arms braced on either side of her head as he thrust furiously into her. Moaning his name, Reese tightened her legs around his waist and crossed her ankles at the small of his back to take him deeper, as deep as he could possibly go.

His beautiful, muscular body glowed in the silvery radiance of the moonlight. A range of raw emotions played across his taut face. Passion, tenderness, reverence. A focused determination to satisfy her every need.

She clung tightly to him, her nails raking his back as she tried to match the relentless pumping of his hips. Her second orgasm hovered just beyond her reach. A few more strokes were all she needed.

But suddenly Michael pulled out of her and growled, “Turn over. I want to take you from behind.”

Reese eagerly complied, kneeling on all fours. He loomed behind her, his thick, rigid erection pressed against her bottom. She gasped and arched in surprise as he drizzled chocolate along the length of her spine, then bent forward and licked his way down to the cleft of her buttocks. She groaned, shivering uncontrollably. Closing her eyes, she reached down and stroked her throbbing clitoris, on the verge of climaxing.
Hard.

His rough hands gripped her bottom, tilting her hips back and positioning her right where he wanted her. And then he thrust high and deep, his heavy body slapping against her backside, jerking a sharp cry out of her throat. She glanced over her shoulder, aroused by the sight of him watching his penis slide into her. The look of savage hunger on his face was another erotic image that would be indelibly etched into her brain.

As she pulsed her hips against him, he groaned. “I’m so addicted to you, Reese. I can’t get enough of you.”

Her heart swelled at the vulnerability in his voice. It was low and shaky, ragged with desperate longing.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he entreated her. “I’ll give you anything.

Anything.
”

Reese couldn’t get her throat to work. But it didn’t matter. He was already giving her exactly what she wanted, a deep, surging rhythm that stroked every part of her swollen, aching sex. She moaned and rocked against him, clutching fistfuls of the picnic blanket. He cupped her swaying breasts and fondled them, his thumbs rubbing her tight, engorged nipples in a caress that nearly undid her. He had such command of her body, her mind, her soul. No matter what happened between them, she would always,
always
belong to him.

Soon his slow, controlled rhythm changed, and Reese’s breath gasped out of her with the force of his voracious, pounding thrusts. She arched her back and frantically worked herself against him, reaching behind her to grip his round, flexing butt. He groaned, grabbing a handful of her hair and winding it around his fingers. He pulled her head back, forcing her to meet the glittering intensity of his gaze.

“I’m never letting you go,” he whispered fiercely, biting her neck as if to brand her.

“So you’d better tell your boyfriend to get ready for the fight of his damn life.”

Reese’s heart soared, and she breathlessly confessed, “You don’t have to fight. I’m breaking up with him.”

Michael’s grip gentled on her hair. And then he laughed, a sound of exultant male triumph mingled with unmistakable relief.

Three strokes later he exploded, shouting her name in a hoarse, reverential voice.

His rapid, pulsing contractions triggered Reese’s own release, and she threw back her head as spasms of bright, white-hot rapture tore through her.

“Michael…Michael…”
His name poured out of her in a succession of desperate, keening wails. Tears of joyous wonder welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

Shuddering and panting hard, Michael curved his arms around her and pulled her down onto the blanket, surrounding her with his warmth. Reese closed her eyes with a deep, satiated sigh and wondered whether it was possible to die from sheer bliss.

They lay spooned together, listening to the gurgling pond and the lazy drone of crickets as the sultry night wrapped around them.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Reese whispered, as if she were afraid to shatter the garden’s tranquility. “I could stay right here all night.”

“Who says you were going anywhere, anyway?” Michael murmured, nuzzling the sweat-dampened hair at her nape.

Warmth tingled through her veins. She sighed. “Sleeping under the stars. How utterly romantic.”

“Well, now, I never said anything about sleeping.”

She laughed. “You can’t keep me up another night, Michael, or I won’t be able to function on the set tomorrow.”

“You did just fine today,” he drawled, his warm breath tickling her as he nibbled her earlobe.

She shivered. “Be that as it may, I still need to get some rest. Back home, I had a nine o’clock bedtime.”

He snorted softly. “You might as well forget about that. I usually don’t get home from the restaurant until after eleven, and there’s no way in hell I’d be able to crawl into bed with you and keep my hands to myself.”

A foolish smile spread helplessly across Reese’s face. He was talking as if they were already a couple, the very thing she’d been fantasizing about all night. “Then I suggest you start bringing your butt home earlier, Mr. Executive Chef,” she sassed.

“Yes, ma’am.” But his voice had grown quieter, and the lips that had been nuzzling her suddenly went still.

Silence lapsed between them, punctuated by the crickets’ noisy chirping.

As Reese’s euphoria faded, she drew a shallow breath. “So…when does your family return?”

“Saturday.”

She nodded slowly. “And Asha went with them?”

“Yeah. You sound surprised.”

“I guess I am. Once the party was over, I just assumed she’d hop on her private plane and head back to New York. I know how busy she is. Her assistant, Pierre, must have called her a hundred times the day we went shopping together.”

“Hmm.” Michael paused. “Samara thinks something may be going on between Asha and my father.”

“Really?” Reese turned in the cradle of his arms to stare at him. “But they’re always bickering.”

His amused gaze met hers. “Maybe that’s because they’re fighting an attraction.

You and I know something about that.”

She grinned wryly. “Good point.”

“Anyway, they haven’t been arguing as much as they used to. So maybe Samara’s on to something. She and Marcus are keeping a close eye on them during the trip.”

Reese shook her head, marveling, “Your father and Asha. Now
that
would be the ultimate example of opposites attracting.” She searched Michael’s face. “How would you feel about them hooking up?”

“It’d be a little weird at first,” he admitted, smiling. “I can’t see my father with a high-maintenance woman like Asha. But if they make each other happy, then I’m all for it.

God knows the old man deserves to be happy.”

Reese hesitated, then ventured cautiously, “Because of the way things turned out between him and your mother?” Michael nodded.

Reese held her breath, waiting to see if he would confide in her, as Quentin had so confidently predicted.

Just when she’d started to lose hope, Michael said in a low voice, “When I was sixteen, my mother cheated on Dad with Grant. They worked at the same hospital. She was a nurse, and Grant was a big-shot neurosurgeon. Marcus came home early from school one day and caught them kissing in the kitchen.”

Suppressing a horrified gasp, Reese said, “Poor Marcus. He was only—”

“Ten. And to give you an idea of how traumatized he was, it took him twenty-five years to forgive her.”

“And you?” Reese gently probed. “How long did it take you?”

“A while.” Michael’s expression was grim. “After the divorce, she disappeared from our lives for a long time, missed a lot of important things. I think she felt guilty, and that’s why she and Grant waited several years to get married. Anyway, when I agreed to give her away at her wedding, we had a long heart-to-heart, and I got to hear her side of the story for the first time.”

He blew out a deep breath. “To make a long story short, she’d turned to Dad for consolation one night after her high school sweetheart was killed in a car accident. They slept together, and she wound up getting pregnant. They were both scared and devastated, but being the honorable man he’s always been, Dad offered to marry her and raise her child as his own, whether or not I was.”