Delicious Temptation Page 10

  Biting her lip, she punched Eric’s number into her cell phone. And an hour later she was in his car on the way back home, regretting her decision.

  Silence erupted between them as soon as the tow truck driver left them standing in the parking lot of a family friend’s repair shop. The friend had allowed her to leave Stella there and he’d check on her in the morning. He’d been a lot nicer about being disturbed so late at night than Eric. On the phone, Eric grumbled. As the tow truck driver worked, he sighed. Behind the wheel, he didn’t say a word—just stared straight at the road ahead of them.

  “Thanks again for coming to get me. I know I interrupted your work, so I appreciate you doing this.”

  Silence.

  “Old Stella’s been running pretty great lately, so this was totally unexpected. Otherwise I would have taken my dad’s car downtown.”

  Still no response. She imagined crickets chirping.

  “I hope it’s something simple like a bad spark plug or dead battery. I really can’t afford any major repair issue right now, you know?”

  This time, he coughed. Her fingers gripped her purse tighter, and an uncomfortable warmth heated her cheeks and forehead. Only her mother could give her the silent treatment. And only because she’d often give it right back.

  “What’s your problem? I get it that this wasn’t the way you wanted to spend your night, but you didn’t have to come. You could’ve told me no.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” he said at last, his voice hard and cold. “You’re my friend’s sister, my boss’s daughter—there was no way I was going to leave you stranded in a downtown parking lot in the middle of the night.”

  The fact that he’d rescued her because of some sense of responsibility to others only infuriated her more.

  “I would’ve found a way home. I’m a smart girl,” she huffed.

  “Yeah, if you’re so smart why didn’t you ask your new boyfriend to drive you home?”

  “What boyfriend? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about Mr. Millionaire Restaurant Guy. So, what—was he too busy planning menus to make sure you were safe?”

  She remembered what she’d said back at the bakery. It was true that Brandon had asked her to dinner, but it wasn’t a real date like she’d let Miguel and Eric believe. He wanted to wine and dine her in order to convince her to apply to be his next pastry chef. His previous one had just decided to go back to New York. That was why he’d come into the bakery in the first place—he was on a scouting mission visiting local L.A. bakeries from Westwood to Boyle Heights. I want authentic Latin desserts with a gourmet twist. And your style is exactly what I’ve been looking for, he’d told her over their seared scallops and sweet corn salad. When she explained that she couldn’t leave the bakery, he asked if she would consider making special gourmet dessert items just for his restaurant, which he could sell on Friday and Saturday nights.

  Telling Eric the truth now would be embarrassing, so she let him hold on to his assumptions. “It’s not like that between us. We just met, remember? And what’s up with this attitude toward Brandon?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not attitude. I just question a man’s character when he doesn’t pick up a girl for their first date, that’s all. Did he make you pay for your own dinner, too?”

  “Uh, it’s his restaurant. We didn’t have to pay for anything. Not even the bottle of wine.” The disapproving shake of his head bothered her so she hastily added, “I only had two glasses and I didn’t leave until I knew it was out of my system. And for your information, Brandon even offered to let me sleep it off in his apartment above the restaurant, but I was fine…” The second she said the words, she regretted them.

  He slammed the steering wheel with his hand. She jumped. “What were you thinking even considering going to a strange man’s apartment all alone?” he roared. “This isn’t like you, Amara. You’re usually more sensible than this.”

  His words bristled her. She hadn’t been sensible in that shed. Or any of the times they’d kissed in the bakery. The anger that had festered since yesterday came flooding back. “Just who do you think you are? I’m not a little girl anymore, and you don’t have to protect me. I already have a big brother for that!”

  She turned toward her door and looked out the window. Good thing they were still on the freeway or else she might have jumped from the car just to get away from him.

  “You may not look like a little girl, but you sure as hell pout like one.”

  They sat in silence until the car finally lurched to an abrupt stop in front of her house. Amara swung the door open. All set to make a dramatic exit, which would include a very hard door slam, she remembered what was sitting on her kitchen counter. Letting out a frustrated sigh that sounded more like a growl, she turned toward Eric.

  “You have to come inside.”

  “I thought you were a grownup who didn’t need protecting? I think you can handle an empty house just fine.” He didn’t even look at her.

  “I have to give you something. It will take two seconds and then you can leave.” She wasn’t going to beg him. If he wanted to come in, he’d come in. Amara stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind her. When she reached the steps leading up to her front porch she heard more slamming, and work boots stomping behind her.

  She unlocked her front door and pushed it open. She didn’t bother turning on the living room light and instead headed straight for the kitchen to grab the plastic container from the counter. Amara took a second and exhaled. She could feel the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. Anger, hurt, shock—it was a fiery cocktail heating her from the inside out. She blew out another breath. Squaring her shoulders, Amara turned on her heel and walked back to the living room where she knew Eric waited.

  The light from the kitchen dimly illuminated the room, casting enough light that she could make out his tense jawline and his hands clenched into fists by his side.

  She pushed the container into his chest. “Here.”

  He took a step back, but didn’t take it from her. “What is it?”

  “It’s for your abuela. They’re besos.”

  Eric raised his eyebrows. “I don’t…”

  She pushed the container farther into his chest. “They’re besos filled with pineapple. You know, the ones she mentioned the other day.” He continued to look at her, his eyes blank. Amara didn’t understand why he wasn’t understanding her. “Oh. My. God. Just take the darn thing!”

  This time he took the container. She turned to walk away but stopped at the sound his voice.

  “The besos with pineapple. You made them just for her?”

  Amara turned back around and sighed. “Yes. I tried out a new recipe. Let her know that I wasn’t sure how sweet she wanted the pineapple so they may not even be what she’s used to. It’s a trial batch.”

  “Why did you do this?” The biting, judgmental tone from before had disappeared. His voice was calm, almost soft. He raised his eyes from the plain, plastic box. The intensity of his gaze, even in the low light, nearly knocked her off her feet. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms.

  “I…uh, well, she mentioned how much she loved them and, well, it really wasn’t a big deal…” Why was she suddenly tongue-tied? “Like I said, she may not even—”

  He dropped the container onto a nearby armchair, placed his large, rough hands on either side of her head, and crushed his mouth against hers. Fire, hot and searing, exploded throughout her body. Amara whimpered as his tongue urgently pushed her lips open.

  “Aye, Amara. Sweet, sweet Amara,” he whispered against her mouth.

  Then his lips were gone.

  Amara opened her eyes in protest as Eric untangled his hands from her hair. He grabbed his own head and backed away from her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She sqeezed his arm before he could leave. “I’m not sorry.”

  “You know we can’t…we shouldn’t.” />
  She did know. She knew she should just tell him goodnight and send him on his way. She knew what could happen if she didn’t. She knew all those things and still she didn’t care. So she shrugged. Amara couldn’t stop this even if she wanted to.

  But he still could, and she saw the hesitation in the squint of his eyes. Amara knew she had to be forward. Time for her to speak up and tell him what she really wanted before he changed his mind. No, before she changed hers.

  “I want you, Eric. I don’t care about what happens next or what it means tomorrow, because it doesn’t have to mean a thing. Just be with me tonight.”

  Pure desire gave her the courage she needed to make her move. She reached for his hand.

  He took it, clasping his fingers around hers. Then she led him down the hall to her bedroom.

  She walked backward through the door, still holding his hand. He pulled her close again and gave her a kiss. His lips were soft, his breath sweet. Her body hummed in anticipation of everything to come. She broke their kiss and slid out of her sandals while he sat on the edge of her bed and worked quickly to untie his boots. When he stood up, she reached up behind her in search of the dress’s zipper.

  “Let me do that,” he said, pulling her hands down to her side and moving behind her. He untied the halter straps behind her neck, then touched the zipper. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his soft lips on her back.

  “Tell me something,” he rasped. “Did you wear this for him? Your answer will determine how I take this dress off of you.”

  A thrill ran up her body. She tried to answer, but she could barely breathe.

  He moved his lips to the side of her neck, just below her jawline, making a delicious trail of light, butterfly kisses that electrified every nerve. When he reached around and started caressing her breasts, she moaned in satisfaction.

  “Well, I’m waiting. Am I going to rip this dress right off you so you can never wear it again, or am I going to slide it off your body using only my teeth?”

  Her thighs quivered at his sexy threat. Either way sounded absolutely wonderful. She tried to regain some sense of control so she could answer. “I didn’t wear it for him because it wasn’t a date,” she admitted, scared and excited about what he’d do to her for letting him think it was. “He just wants me for my baking skills, to work in his — ”

  More words escaped her as she felt him pull the zipper down with his teeth. Her breasts strained against her black lace bra, the friction hardening her nipples. When the dress finally fell to the floor, Eric’s mouth traveled up her body. Her knees buckled when she felt something wet and hot against the back of her thighs.

  She groaned. And when he licked her, just along the seam of her thong panties, she groaned even louder. Eric’s mouth on her skin was beyond anything she could’ve ever imagined. Heat flared wherever he touched her, however he touched her. She wasn’t just melting. She was combusting.

  He moved his hands over her strapless bra, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples into hardened peaks beneath the fabric. She curled into him, delighted by the hardness she felt behind her. Still, she needed to touch him the way she’d always dreamt of.

  She turned in his arms and pulled his head down for a kiss. They tasted each other all over again—reveling in finally being able to feed their hunger. She explored his mouth, eventually settling on his bottom lip with light, playful nibbles and licks. He groaned and seized her mouth one more time before she broke away. Although the kissing was wonderful, she couldn’t wait any longer, and began to lift his shirt. He took over, dragging the material over his head, so she focused on his belt buckle. With shaky hands, she pushed his jeans down. He stopped her, though, when she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his tented boxer briefs.

  Oh no. Had he changed his mind again?

  He put his forehead against hers. “Damn. I don’t have a condom. Damn. Damn.”

  Relief made her smile. She kissed his nose, then went to her dresser and reached behind her mirror to the small box of condoms she’d carefully taped against the back. He arched an eyebrow and she laughed. “What can I say? I guess I had my hopes that they’d come in handy one day. And as for taping it behind my mirror, I learned a long time ago never to hide anything in easily accessible spots. Consuelo has ‘accidentally’ discovered things before.”

  He took the box from her and threw it on the nightstand next to her bed. Heat flared in his dark eyes. “Lie down, Amara.”

  The realization she was about to see Eric fully naked, and that he was about to see her, left her trembling. All of her teenage fantasies were coming true. Part of her wanted to slow things down so she could remember every detail. The other part just wanted him inside her already.

  She obeyed his order and waited. When he finally pulled down his briefs, she sighed. She’d seen penises before, but Eric’s was the first she’d describe as beautiful. It jutted out from his body as if it was calling out for her to touch it. To taste it. She licked her lips.

  Eric knelt on the bed and slid in next her. He touched her cheek before finding her mouth again. As their tongues danced, she clutched his shoulder and back, desperate to feel his bare skin against hers. She guided his hands to her breasts and he expertly freed them from her bra. But when he started to pull down her panties, she decided it was time for another admission.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said as he kissed her neck. “I haven’t been…I’m not that experienced.”

  “Neither am I.” She felt his smile against her shoulder.

  “I’m serious. I haven’t had certain things done to me.”

  He moved his face above hers and looked into her eyes. “So, no one has ever…”

  Both of them looked down the length of her body.

  “No,” she admitted, her voice thick and hoarse. “I’ve only been with one other man—my ex-boyfriend in Chicago. And, well, he wasn’t very, um, adventurous.” Although she wanted to turn away and not have to see the shock in his eyes, she couldn’t. But there was no shock or judgment, only desire.

  He touched her cheek. “I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. So you’re going to have to tell me what’s okay and what’s not okay.”

  She nodded and he brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss. He pushed himself up onto his knees and lifted both of her legs toward the ceiling. Inch by inch, his fingers pulled her black silk panties off of her. He brought her legs back down and stared at the vee between them. “Beautiful,” he whispered. He straddled her then and leaned down to her breasts. The pressure of his cock against her entrance left her tingling and wanting more. She moaned in desperation.

  “Do you want me to suck your nipples?” he asked, still teasing her with small licks near her rigid peaks. It was a beautiful agony. “Remember, you have tell me what you want.”

  His tongue proved to be a more than skillful tool and she ached—ached—to feel more of it. “Yes,” she said with a heavy breath. “Yes, suck my nipples.” He rewarded her command by taking one into his mouth and sucking it with a vigor that made her pant and squirm. She’d never been so turned on in her life.

  After thoroughly savoring and licking both breasts, Eric moved off her and made his way down the bed. He lifted her legs again, one in each hand, and parted them. Still on his knees, he kissed one ankle and then looked at her. “Are you ready?”

  Was she? Eric Valencia was about to do something to her no man had ever done before. She should’ve been apprehensive, even rethinking everything that happened so far. But when she looked into eyes, they reflected her own desire. No, she wasn’t ready. But that didn’t matter anymore.

  Amara nodded to let him know she wasn’t going to stop him. Ever.

  He kissed her other ankle and then bent her legs at her knees. “Tell me what you want.” He kissed the inside of her right thigh and it quivered back.

  “I…I want you,” she rasped.

  He kissed her inner left thigh and she squeezed
her comforter for dear life. “No, tell me what you want me to do.”

  A gush of air hit between her legs and she gasped. She was absolutely sure her comforter must be in shreds now.

  “That was only my breath, Amara. Imagine how it’s going to feel when it’s my tongue on that hot, sweet pussy of yours. Just say the words. Tell me to lick you. Tell me to suck on your clit. And I will because I fucking want to taste every part of you. ”

  His crude words should’ve shocked her. Instead, they ignited her.

  “I..,” she started, but couldn’t finish because he’d plunged a finger deep inside her. Her hips bucked and her toes flexed. Her body came alive. She needed to feel his tongue on her immediately. No more imagining. It was time to feel it for real. “I want…I want you to lick my clit…now!”

  He answered her by flicking his tongue against it and she gasped. His tongue was warm and soft against the trembling bundle of nerves as he teased it with long, languid circles. When she was absolutely sure she couldn’t take much more, he switched gears and sucked on her clit earnestly, all the while still thrusting one finger inside.

  I’m going to die. The pressure building within her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced with her old boyfriend—or even with herself. The coming explosion would surely stop her heart.

  Death by orgasm? So worth the risk.

  Lick. Suck. Thrust. Lick. Suck. Thrust. Eric’s mouth and fingers not only drove her mad with lust, they took her to the edge.

  Amara moved her hands over her breasts, cupping their fullness and pinching her nipples. As a delicious tightness spread throughout her body, a soft moan—or maybe it was a groan—escaped her lips.

  “Holy shit, Amara. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes flew open and she discovered Eric staring at her from between her legs. She should’ve been embarrassed having been caught touching herself like that, but the hungry, wild look in his eyes merely fueled her desire.