Kiss The Cook

Chapter 11

By the time Chris parked the Mercedes in front of his condo, he'd managed to get his emotions under control. Barely. Every time he thought of Melanie's words, of how she thought she stunk at sex, he wanted to break something-and that jerk Todd's face was at the top of the list. God help that bastard if I ever meet him.

It infuriated him that someone could steal her self-confidence in such a cruel way. Anybody who thought Melanie was unimaginative, boring, and cold had to be an idiot. There was no doubt in Chris's mind that he and Melanie would make beautiful love together.

But first he was going to undo whatever damage Todd-the-jackass had done.

When they arrived at the condo, he held her hand and led her inside. As soon as the door closed behind them, he took her in his arms and kissed her long and deep. He hadn't necessarily meant to fall on her the minute they arrived, but he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her.

Luckily Melanie apparently suffered from the same problem. The instant their lips touched, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

Chris slipped his tongue into her silky, warm mouth and moaned. No woman had ever tasted this good, this sweet. This right. Without breaking their kiss, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom, where he gently set her on her feet.

She looked up at him, her eyes glazed and droopy. "You're a great kisser," she said in a breathy voice that raised his blood pressure to a dangerous level.

"Because of you," Chris murmured, running his hands up and down her back. "You have the most beautiful mouth. It inspires me." To prove his statement, he gently traced her full bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

"And your neck," he continued, running his lips down the long, slim column, "makes me crazy. Especially here." He brushed his fingertips over the hollow at the base of her throat. "I can see your pulse beating." He laid her hand against his chest. "It's pounding almost as hard as mine."

Their gazes locked. When Chris read the uncertainty in her eyes, he made a mental vow to banish that look forever. He had to show her how deeply she affected him.

Deciding the best way for her to gain confidence was to encourage her to be free with him, he said, "Undress me."

Her eyes grew round. "What?"

He looked at her steadily, letting his eyes convey his desire, willing her to see his need. "Undress me." When she hesitated, he toed off his Reeboks and pulled off his socks. "I started. You finish."

Reaching out tentative hands, she pulled his Polo shirt from his shorts. He helped her pull it over his head, then she dropped it on the floor.

"Touch me, Melanie," he said in a low voice. "Put your hands on me. Feel how much I want you. Don't be afraid."

Chris felt her momentary hesitancy, but she slid her hands up his chest, tunneling her fingers through the hair, lightly grazing his nipples. A long, low, heartfelt moan of pleasure flowed from him.

"Do you like that?" she asked, smoothing her hands over him again.

"God, yes. Don't stop."

Never taking his eyes off her, he easily sensed the surge of feminine power sweeping through her, encouraging her, making her bold. Every time he moaned, her confidence clearly grew. He could almost hear her thinking, Maybe I'm not so bad at this after all.

She continued her explorations, running her hands over his chest and back, and Chris found it more and more difficult to stand still. It seemed everywhere she touched, his flesh burned. When she leaned down and kissed his chest, he swore softly, and when her tongue flicked over his nipple he growled low in his throat.

Forcing his hands to remain at his sides, he gritted his teeth in an agony of pleasure when she unzipped his fly. Dipping her hands beneath his waistband, she lowered his shorts and boxers down his hips in one smooth motion. He kicked them off and stood before her, completely naked and painfully aroused.

He watched her gaze wander over him. Desire flared in her eyes, and her cheeks flushed crimson. She stretched out her hand and gently brushed her fingertips over the tip of his arousal.

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

She continued to explore, touching him tentatively, then more boldly. It took all his willpower to remain still, but when she wrapped her fingers around him and gently squeezed his erection, he knew he couldn't take any more.

He reached out and grasped her wrist. "No more," he managed to say, "or this will be over before it's begun."

Before she could reply, he took over, plunging his fingers into her hair. Her head dropped limply back on her neck, and he took immediate advantage. His lips skimmed hot kisses along her jaw while his fingers worked the buttons on her cotton blouse free. When the last button was unfastened, he slowly pushed the material open.

His breath caught. She was incredible, her full breasts encased in a skimpy bit of cream-colored lace. Watching her all the while, he removed her shirt and bra, dropping both to the floor.

"You're beautiful, Melanie," he murmured, trailing his fingertips over the swell of her breasts. A breath shuddered from her, and her nipples hardened into tight peaks at his feathery touch. Bending his head, he brushed his tongue over one distended peak, then the other.

She gasped, and Chris reveled in the breathy sound. With infinite care, he caressed her breasts with his mouth, kneading her shoulders and back with his hands. Slowly he worked her shorts and panties down until she stood bare before him.

His gaze slowly skimmed over her from head to foot. She was truly a vision. A blushing, long-limbed, beautiful vision. It required all his strength not to fall on his knees before her.

He held out his hand and she slipped hers into it without hesitation. Entwining their fingers, he led her the few steps to his bed, praying he'd somehow find the strength to go slow with her.

Melanie laid back on the navy and maroon comforter, thankful to be off her feet before her knees gave out. Chris followed her down, lying on his side next to her. She looked into his eyes and her heart nearly stopped at the intensity of his gaze. Unmistakable desire and need burned in the dark blue depths.

No one, not Todd, no one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most desirable, beautiful woman in the world. Like he would die if he didn't have her.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers one by one. His firm lips, his warm breath caressed her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He'd barely touched her, yet her heart pounded as if she'd just run a marathon.

When he lowered his mouth to hers, Melanie sighed his name and arched against him. While their lips and tongues played lazily, she reveled in the long-forgotten feeling of a man's hands on her, and the unfamiliar, mind-blowing sensation of him arousing every inch of her. It had been so long since a man had touched her, and Todd's idea of foreplay had been thirty seconds of petting.

Not so with Christopher Bishop.

He lavished attention on her, starting with her lips and working his way slowly down her body, touching her everywhere, his knowledgeable fingers and mouth making her crazy.

"This," he whispered, gently touching the beauty mark next to her navel with his lips, "is exquisite."

Melanie fisted her hands on the comforter when he dipped his head lower, his warm breath and clever fingers toying with the curls between her thighs. When his mouth closed over her heated flesh, she threw her head back and cried out, her insides coiling tighter than a spring.

Slipping his hands beneath her bottom, he lifted her, his lips and tongue caressing her to wildness. Unable to control herself, Melanie moved against him, moaning, mindless.

Intense orgasmic waves crashed into her for an endless moment, throbbing through her, touching every pore in her body. When the spasms finally subsided, she shuddered, breathless, boneless, and utterly fulfilled.

Lost in a dreamy haze, she felt his weight shift and heard the unmistakable sound of a condom packet tearing. Several seconds later, he settled himself between her thighs. A blissful sigh escaped her lips.

"Open your eyes, Melanie."

She struggled to lift her heavy lids. It felt as if someone had glued cement bags to her lashes. When she finally succeeded, she saw the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen staring down at her, tenderness and desire glowing in their heated depths.

Without taking his eyes off her, he slipped inside her with one long, heartfelt stroke. He remained perfectly still for several heartbeats, his weight braced on his forearms, his hands tangled in her hair.

And then he began to move, slowly at first, then more powerfully, watching her face, his expression intense. Melanie arched against him, running her hands over his back, down to his buttocks, urging him deeper. The force built inside her again, growing, growing, until she felt as if she were dynamite and he'd lit the match to detonate her.

When the explosion came, she moaned his name, falling over the edge into a previously unknown sensual oblivion that for an endless moment erased everything from her mind but the liquid throbbing of her body and the man inside her.

She was still quivering when Chris groaned and plunged into her one last time, pulsing inside her, his face buried in her hair. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on tight, listening to him whisper her name over and over like a prayer.

A good five minutes passed before Chris finally gathered the strength to lift his head. When he did, he found himself looking down into languid, dreamy, chocolate eyes. A spurt of masculine satisfaction washed over him as he noted her tangled hair and the satisfied smile lurking around the corners of her kiss-swollen lips.

Mine, a deep, primitive inner-man voice claimed. This woman is mine. He half expected to feel panic at the thought, but only deep contentment washed through him.

And I am hers, continued his inner voice. Chris braced himself for bachelor panic, but none came. Again, only warmth and happiness flowed through him at the thought. I am hers, she is mine.

God, that felt good. He wasn't quite sure how love had managed to sneak up on him, but it had. There was no point denying that he'd fallen, and fallen hard. Fallen? Hell, he was splattered all over the sidewalk. His bachelor days were sinking below the horizon like the setting sun.

He shook his head in amazement. Done in by a set of big brown eyes, a tangle of curls, and the sweetest smile ever created. Not to mention the gentlest hands, and the kindest heart.

Just then, one of those gentle hands brushed his cheek. He turned his face and kissed her palm.

"You were right," she said in a breathy voice that sparked interest in his recovering private parts.

"Of course I was," he replied with exaggerated male smugness. "What was I right about?"

"You said we'd have great sex." She closed her eyes and stretched like a contented cat. "We did."

A frown tugged between his brows. Sex? Like hell. Irritation bubbled up inside him. He said nothing, just waited until she opened her eyes. When she did, he watched her expression grow wary as she read the discontent he knew showed on his face.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Maybe the sex wasn't as good as I thought."

"We need to get something straight right now, Melanie. I never said we would have great sex. I said we would make beautiful love together. And we did. What we just shared was not sex," he said, enunciating his words very carefully, so she would not misunderstand. "We just made love. Believe me, there's a big difference."

Her eyes grew round; then to his chagrin, they filled with tears. His annoyance instantly evaporated, replaced by that panicky sensation only female tears could induce. Rolling them onto their sides, he gathered her into his arms and held her close.

"Hey, don't cry. Really. Please don't cry."

She sniffled against his chest. "I'm not crying."

Wet tears hit his chest and he groaned. "Don't do that, Melanie. Stop. I mean it. Tears kill me." He tried to pry her chin up, but she just burrowed deeper into his chest, soaking his skin with her tears. Giving up, he patted her back, praying she'd turn off the waterworks soon. He didn't know what the hell he'd said or done to bring on the flood, but he was damn sorry about it.

Ten torturous minutes passed before her sobs tapered off into juicy hiccups. He spent those ten minutes alternately stroking her hair and cursing himself for hurting her. When she finally lifted her tear-streaked face, he cupped her face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Whatever I said or did to make you feel so bad, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean it."

Her damp eyes widened, and to his amazement, she laughed.

He shook his head. "Now you're laughing? Women! If I live to be a hundred, I'll never understand them. Groaning in passion one minute, crying their eyes out the next, then laughing." He watched her, wary, wondering what was next.

"I think," he said carefully, "I know what made you groan. Would you care to fill me in on what made you cry and why you're laughing now?"

She reached out and stroked his face, her eyes filled with tenderness. "You," she whispered. "You made me groan by the incredible ways you touched me-ways no one else ever has. You made me cry-but they were happy tears. Emotional tears. Because of how you made me feel.

"And you," she continued, "made me laugh because you were so sweet and concerned that you'd done something wrong, when you'd done everything so right." She gently kissed him. "So wonderfully, totally, completely right."

Relief swept through him. He brushed back her tangled hair. "I have one request, okay?"

She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively. "Only one?"

He chuckled. "All right, maybe two. Hmmm. Maybe two dozen. But definitely one."

Running her hand down his chest, she tickled his navel and whispered, "Your wish is my command."

Chris sucked in a breath. "No more tears," he said, his concentration deteriorating at an alarming rate. "Next time you're happy, please smile. Don't cry."

She leaned forward and nibbled on his earlobe. "That sounds simple enough." She breathed into his ear and a chill raced down his spine, snapping his arousal to immediate attention.

Leaning back in the circle of his arms, she looked at him, her eyes filled with mischief.

"Is that your only request?" she asked, arching a single brow.

"Absolutely not." He rolled them until she sat astride him. Looking up at her, her beautiful, flushed face and soft, warm eyes, his heart clenched. Fisting his hand in her hair, he dragged her head down and kissed her hard.

"Are you ready for request number two?" he asked against her lips.

"Are you kidding?" She moved against him and his eyes glazed over. "I can't wait for request number two. Or three or four."

A slow smile lifted his lips.

He couldn't wait to see what she thought of requests five and six.