Delicious Temptation Read online

  “Please. Don’t. Stop,” she pleaded. He returned to his post, applying more pressure to the long, hot strokes against her swollen clit. Another finger penetrated her, thrusting hard against her inner walls. A wave of sheer ecstasy dragged her by her fingernails from any final shreds of modesty or self-consciousness. Breaths became sighs. Sighs became gasps.

  “Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God,” she moaned, shaking her head back and forth across her pillow. Her skin burned, her nerves tingled, her body hummed.

  The explosion was imminent. All she needed was. One. More. Thing.

  “Let go, Amara. I want to see you come.”

  The raw neediness in his voice sent her over the edge and straight into glorious destruction. Through a haze, she felt him move next to her and she rode out the final contractions curled onto her side and wrapped in his arms.

  When the waves finally stopped, Amara leaned against him. She had survived the crash. Just barely. The tinny taste on her tongue told her she must have bitten her lip when she tried to stifle the scream that broke from her throat when her orgasm hit. Tears welled just beneath the rim of her eyes.

  Don’t be the girl who cries after sex!

  She couldn’t help it though. She always cried when emotion—any emotion—overwhelmed her. She had happy tears, sad tears, and even mad tears. These, however, were “holy moly that was amazing” tears.

  Eric turned her so he could see her face, but his satisfied smile disappeared when he met her eyes. “What’s wrong?” He touched the wetness below the corner of her eye.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I promise.” She raised her head and kissed him. “That was amazing and…unexpected. Thank you.”

  He seemed to believe her assurances. “Don’t be thanking me just yet. I’m not even close to being done with you.”

  …

  Never in his wildest dreams would Eric have thought that one day he’d be having sex with his best friend’s sister. He was pretty sure the thought had never crossed her mind either. Yet there they were in her bed, the line between friends and lovers not just crossed, but pretty much obliterated.

  He moved on top of Amara, careful to keep his full weight off of her as he kissed away the tears from her cheeks. Her emotion surprised him. Was she really okay with what they’d just done? What they were about to do together?

  No looking back, he told himself as he moved his kisses from her face and neck to her soft lips. He reached out and fisted her hair, deepening their kiss, but it wasn’t enough. He was desperate to be in her. A part of her.

  “Fuck, Amara! I want you so bad,” he growled.

  “Then take me.”

  It was all he needed to hear.

  Eric leapt from the bed to cover himself with a condom from the nightstand. His dick was so hard it bordered on painful. But while he couldn’t wait for release, he also wanted to make the experience last.

  He climbed back on top of Amara and looked into her kind, trusting eyes once more for permission. She gave it to him not with words, but by reaching for his hand above her head and locking her fingers with his.

  Sliding his cock inside her to the hilt, he was nearly blown away by her heat and tightness. It felt beyond words. So much so that he stilled—needing to take a moment so he didn’t explode right then. When he found some control, he began to move.

  Her breasts rubbed against his chest as he drove into her, as if to remind him they needed attention, too. He removed his hand from hers to brace himself on both of his forearms. This position gave him much better access to her breasts and he took full advantage until the room filled up with a frenzy of groans and ragged breaths. She met every one of his powerful thrusts, taking him deeper and clawing at his shoulders to make him pump harder. The sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room, spurring his climax toward a shattering conclusion. But he needed to take her with him. He adjusted his position to kneeling and moved her ankles from around his waist to his shoulders. Reaching between their bodies, he rubbed her clit.

  “Eric!” The sight of her coming undone right before his eyes sent him hurtling into his own release. His body shuddered as he unleashed himself into her clenching pussy.

  When he was sure he was completely drained, he fell off her and rolled to the side to reach for a tissue from the box on the nightstand. He wrapped up the condom and tossed in the wastebasket next to her bed. Then he collapsed next to her, both of them still trying to catch their breath.

  “So…” she said after a few minutes.

  “So?”

  “That was…”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic.” It was the only word that came to mind. And it fit perfectly.

  “I agree. In fact, I agree so much that I kind of want to take back what I said before.”

  “Okay.” Truth was he didn’t remember much after the first time she’d sucked his tongue. “I’m sorry. Remind me again what you said?”

  “About this not having to mean anything.”

  “Oh. That.” Of course it meant something. It meant consequences if anyone found out. First of all, he’d be jobless. He had broken the promise he had made to Miguel about staying away from Amara. He’d be friendless, too.

  “Are…are you starting to regret it?” she finally asked.

  He heard the anxiousness in her voice. “Are you?” Could she hear it in his?

  “I asked you first.”

  He closed his eyes and it all came back to him in an instant. The feel of her. The sound of her. The taste of her. Eric turned on his side so he could look at her. But she kept her eyes focused on the ceiling. “No, I don’t regret it,” he told her truthfully and reached for her hand.

  Small fingers clasped his. “Good. Neither do I. That’s why I’m thinking that we should do it again.”

  She rushed out the last part and that made him smile. His cock jerked to attention. “Sounds good to me. I’m ready to go.”

  “What?” Her head turned toward him so he could see her surprised expression. “Really? So soon? Well, I didn’t necessarily mean right now. I meant, like, tomorrow or the next day.”

  “So you’re saying you want us to keep having sex?”

  “Yes.”

  He grinned. “Amara Robles, are you asking me to be your boy toy?”

  She socked him in the arm and he laughed. “No, of course not. I could never use someone for sex…only. How about we call our arrangement more like friends with benefits?”

  He pushed up onto his elbow. “You have my attention. So, exactly how long would these benefits last? Is there an expiration date?” He tried to sound casual, but the dread that twisted his gut surprised him.

  She frowned at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I guess until one of us wants out? That, or until the remodel is done. I’m sure we won’t be seeing as much of each other after that anyway. It just seems natural to stop things then. Well, the sexual things, at least.” She turned to him and smiled. “We can still be friends, of course.”

  Eric wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never had a girl set the end date of a relationship in advance. He’d also never been with a girl who didn’t want more than he was willing to give. A friends with benefit situation would be the best of both worlds. He’d be a fool not to say yes.

  So that’s exactly what he did before showing Amara that he was serious about being ready to go at it again.

  Chapter Eleven

  L.A. Cuchara lacked the hustle and bustle of the last time Amara had been there. With two hours before it re-opened for dinner, the square tables with traditional Mexican talevera tile designs sat empty. Crisply folded white linen napkins perched atop gleaming blue plates, while the silverware caught the soft glow of light from the hand-blown glass fixtures hanging overhead. Brandon had tried for a mixture of color and elegance, he’d said, and as far as Amara was concerned, he’d knocked the design out of the park.

  It was a little intimidating.

  As they waited for Brandon to retrieve his head chef from the kitchen, Amara practiced he
r pitch over and over in her head. Even though he had been openly eager to work out some type of official arrangement, he told her he still needed to get approval from Alex—L.A. Cuchara’s head chef and part owner.

  “I’m sure Alex will love your desserts as much as I do,” Brandon had told her over the phone. “But just in case, why don’t you bring those peach empanadas you were telling me about the other day?”

  Thankfully, the empanadas had turned out perfectly. The outside shells were golden brown, but still held the sheen of the sugared glaze she’d carefully brushed on each one. The fresh peach filling was both tart and sweet, with a subtle hint of cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla. Amara figured that if things went south with Alex then at least she and Daisy could drown their sorrows in butter and sugar on the drive back home.

  She looked over at her cousin. Daisy had taken to biting her nails and bouncing her crossed legs, her gaze darting around the room like she expected a tiger to jump out from behind one of the restaurant’s potted trees. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

  Daisy grabbed her shoulder. “Mira, Amara, I don’t mean to be a downer, but dayum! This place is muy classy. Are you sure the empanadas are, you know, fancy enough?”

  She’d been trying to push the same thought out of her head since they’d arrived. Maybe she should’ve made a crème brulee or a tiramisu, too.

  But that’s not you, Eric’s voice whispered in her head.

  The voice was right. How could she expect her parents or Brandon to believe in her desserts if she didn’t? Amara decided it was time to start being her own fan girl. She turned to her cousin. “Well, if this Alex person doesn’t think my empanadas are good enough for his restaurant then he can go straight to—”

  “Amara…” Daisy tugged her shirt as she looked over Amara’s shoulder. “Alex isn’t a he. She’s a she!”

  “What?” She twisted in her chair just in time to see Brandon and a chesty brunette walking toward them. Although the brunette wore a black chef’s coat, her ruby red lipstick and the white and red polka dot bandana tied around her hair reminded Amara of a 1940s pinup girl.

  “She looks like a bitch,” Daisy whispered.

  “Stop. No, she doesn’t,” Amara whispered back.

  “Look how close she’s walking next to Brandon. She’s marking her territory.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. Knock it off. They’re almost here.” Amara stood up and glared at Daisy until she did the same.

  Brandon and the brunette were all smiles when they finally reached the table.

  “Amara! It’s so good to see you again.” He reached out both of his arms and she panicked. What if the brunette was more than his partner? What if she didn’t like Amara hugging her man?

  Too late. Brandon encased her with a strong embrace and a peck on the cheek. She didn’t peck him back and instead tried to maneuver her way out of his arms as smoothly as possible.

  “Good to see you too, Brandon.” She smiled, stretching the corners of her mouth as far up her cheeks as they would go, to hide her nerves. “This is Daisy. She handles all of the bakery’s marketing and special event catering.”

  She tried to telepathically warn Daisy to not say anything that would embarrass her. Luckily Brandon spoke before her cousin could. “So nice to meet you,” he said, offering his hand. Amara let out a breath when Daisy shook it and only nodded back at him.

  “Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to Alex, our head chef.”

  The brunette smiled warmly and Amara exhaled. She wasn’t a bitch at all.

  After everyone shook hands some more, Brandon motioned for them to sit down. “So Amara, I’ve been raving about you and your desserts to Alex for days now.”

  Her gut twisted in apprehension. “I hope my empanadas live up to the hype,” she said, trying to laugh.

  “Not to worry,” the brunette said. “And, please, call me Alexa. Brandon here thinks he should’ve had a twin brother instead of a twin sister, so he’s really the only one who ever calls me Alex.”

  “Twins?” Daisy finally opened her mouth. “Really?”

  “Really. Once you spend some time with both of us, it’s pretty easy to see the similarities. I’m the youngest,” Alexa explained.

  “Only by about four minutes,” Brandon added. “Alex seems to think just because I came into this world 240 seconds before her, that that somehow makes me an old man.”

  “It does,” Alexa said matter-of-factly. “That’s why you’re more responsible and I’m more fun.”

  Before Brandon could respond, Daisy chimed in. “Yep, you guys are definitely brother and sister. You sound just like Amara and her brother Miguel.”

  Everyone laughed and Amara silently thanked her cousin for lightening the mood. Time to talk business. “So, we know you both are very busy and we don’t want to take up too much of your time. Would you like to try the dessert now?”

  Alexa nodded and Brandon waved over the man who had been standing at another table folding linen napkins into the elaborate shapes that dotted tables all over the room. Within minutes, two other servers had brought over small plates, forks, and napkins and began pouring each of them a cup of coffee. Amara handed the box of pastries to another waiter who proceeded to serve the empanadas.

  “These are traditional empanada desserts, except I’ve used a flourless dough and the filling is made with fresh peaches. I hope you enjoy.”

  “Mmmm,” Daisy said with over-the-top enthusiasm that made Amara kick her in the shin. She went back to dissecting her own empanada with her fork and tried to sneak glances at the others. She could tell Brandon was enjoying his pastry by the appreciative sounds he made after every bite. Alexa was harder to read. Her chewing seemed slow and deliberate, yet the rest of her expression remained stoic.

  Finally, Alexa set her fork down and picked up her napkin to wipe at the corners of her mouth.

  “Well, Amara. I hate to admit when my brother is right, but this time I have no choice. These are incredible, and if everything else you bake is half as good, I would love to add your desserts to our menu.”

  “Woo hoo!” Daisy cheered.

  Brandon beamed at Amara and reached across the table to grab her hand. “Welcome to the Cuchara restaurant family.”

  Two hours later she was still smiling. Her face hurt, but she didn’t care. They’d stayed for tapas—Brandon’s treat—and now they’d finally arrived back at the bakery.

  While Daisy walked inside, Amara floated behind her. This was turning out to be one of the best nights of her life. She couldn’t wait to tell Eric. He hadn’t answered any of her phone calls and she didn’t want to text him the news. It would be better to tell him in person so they could celebrate together like she’d promised.

  “I still can’t believe Alexa is Brandon’s sister,” she told her cousin after both dropped their purses onto the counter. “And you thought she was his girlfriend. Ha!”

  “You know you thought it, too,” Daisy insisted.

  “Actually, I didn’t. But, hey, this means he’s available. You two had quite the conversation going on before we got in the car. I think he likes you,” Amara said.

  “Please. You two were the ones who wouldn’t shut up. He barely even looked at me the entire time.”

  Was there a twinge of bitterness behind Daisy’s words? Could it be that her cousin really had developed a little crush on their new business partner? After weeks of dealing with her incessant teasing about Eric, Amara jumped at the chance to turn the tables.

  “Why, Daisy. Do I detect a little jealousy mixed in with your usual sarcasm tonight?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think maybe you don’t hate Brandon as much as you want me to think you do.”

  “Are you kidding me? Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Okay, first of all, he’s too arrogant and flashy for my taste. Second of all, if anyone is going to be jealous around here, it’s going to be Eric once he realizes that Bra
ndon is more interested in filling your empanada than your empanada filling—if you get my drift.”

  “What are you talking about?” They both jumped at his voice. Eric stood under the kitchen doorway. His arms folded. His mouth grim.

  She shot an “I’ll kill you later” look at Daisy before turning to face him. “It’s nothing. Daisy is just trying to change the subject. I think she likes Brandon—”

  “I heard that part. But what I want to know is who does Brandon like?”

  “Well, I’m pooped,” Daisy said with a fake yawn and stretch. “I’m going to head on home because I got something to do there and, yeah, I’m just going to go now. Goodnight!” And just like that, she was gone.

  Coward.

  “So is there something I should know about this Brandon guy? Did he decide he wants to take you out again?”

  “What? No. Of course not. I told you, Daisy is just being Daisy. He’s been nothing but professional with me. And good news! He wants to sell my desserts at L.A. Cuchara. Isn’t that great?”

  “It is, but now I’m wondering why. You have to admit, this whole thing is almost too good to be true. Maybe this Brandon guy is only giving you this opportunity because he wants to get in your pants?”

  …

  Even as he said the words he knew he didn’t mean them. He regretted them even more when he saw the hurt and tears welling up in her eyes.

  “You’re an asshole,” she blurted before spinning on her heels and heading toward the door.

  Dammit!

  He rushed after her, grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him. Wrapping his arms around her, he whispered apology after apology into her ear.

  “You didn’t deserve that. I’m so, so sorry. It’s been a hell of a night and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” she said into his shoulder.

  Of course he knew that Amara deserved this amazing opportunity. But the thought of Brandon being interested in her, or vice versa, had him seeing red. Especially when he was already hot under the collar thanks to an argument earlier with his mom.