Unexpected. A storm of tears washed over me, leaving my insides clean and peaceful.
BEAU ROLLED INTO his borrowed apartment just before noon. The temptation to drop by the gallery or even her house since she said she wasn’t working until three was strong.
But he had a dinner to plan. Friends to corral and lecture and/or threaten into good behavior in Cora’s presence. He wanted to clean up a little around the place, change the sheets and all that just in case she wanted to stay over.
“So, this is new,” Ian said, tone very dry. “You’ve never asked any of your romantic interests into my kitchen before.” They stood just outside the open kitchen at Luna, the smallest and most intimate of Ian’s restaurants. And where they often ended up after closing, taking turns making meals for the crew of local chefs and other restaurant people who made up his knot of friends.
“I want her to meet you. Or you to meet her. Both. I want to cook for her when she’s surrounded by my friends.”
Ian smirked. “You want to show her off. Show off for her too.”
“Fuck yes I do. She’s not only pretty and funny and weirdly fascinating, she’s smart. Charming. I want her to know I have a community. I’m not some aimless pretty boy.”
“Even when you were an aimless pretty boy you weren’t really that bad,” Ian said. “She’s someone you want me to meet and that alone would be enough. I’ve got to admit I’m seriously curious about this woman.”
“You’re going to like her. It’s impossible not to.” Beau had watched in serious awe as she’d worked that gallery and the patrons and artists who’d come in.
“You want to do leftover roulette?” Ian asked of the game they made of creating an after-work menu with whatever each particular chef brought with them, or had remained after dinner service had ended.
Because Cora would like the game and he was pretty sure he could make something delicious out of most ingredients his friends would present him with, he agreed.
* * *
AT THE END of a very long day Cora usually just wanted to go home, take a long hot shower and go to bed. But that day had started with a text asking her to be a maid of honor in a Christmas Eve wedding and was going to be ending with a guy she hadn’t seen all week and had missed more than she’d really thought she would.
She’d sent Beto home an hour before but she needn’t have worried about being alone when she closed up because Cora looked up to catch sight of Beau coming in from the street. He wore a navy blue peacoat with a pale gray sweater beneath. Dark trousers showcased just how tall he was.
She watched him as he searched the room, looking for her. And when he found her and his gaze locked onto hers, she felt it ping-pong through her, that zing of chemistry they shared.
Beau looked like he’d walked straight off the photo shoot for a menswear line, or a line of luxury cars. All predatory and masculine but smooth as fuck at the same time.
As they were the only people left, she allowed herself to go to him and let him hug her before brushing a quick kiss over her mouth.
“Hi. You didn’t have to come in. I told you I’d meet you at Luna when I got changed,” she said, pleased he’d come anyway.
“I wanted to see you.”
Which was nice to hear, because she wanted to see him too. And now that he was right there she could admit to herself that she’d missed him a lot. More than she’d wanted to. More than she’d expected to.
“I just need to lock up, then we can head out. Tell me about your trip while I’m doing that,” she told him.
He gave her an update on his house in Los Angeles, talked about seeing some friends, including his manager, who apparently wanted to meet her when he came up to Seattle to visit next.
It meant he’d talked about her to these people in his life.
Giddiness flitted through her belly as she turned out the lights, hit the security system and then they headed to his car.
He held her hand, opened her door and was present in a way that comforted her but didn’t crowd. That wasn’t something you could plan; it simply was the way you fit with someone else. Or not.
It had been or not for most of her life. Not that she’d experienced it in a negative sense, but now that she had it with Beau it was hard to imagine a future without it.
The energy between them built from the moment he’d walked into the gallery and by the time they’d reached her apartment, and she’d closed and locked her front door and looked to him, a fire raged through her.
He stared at her so intently it was like a caress. All she could do was breathe a yes before he took the last three steps, pulling her into his arms as his mouth found hers.
The sound of all her belongings clattering to the floor as she dropped her purse and tote bag was the only thing she heard other than the pounding in her ears and the rustle of clothing.
He slid his hands down her sides and to her ass, grabbing two handfuls and holding her in place as he ground his cock into her belly.
A moan wrenched from deep in her gut, one he echoed as they bumped into the wall at her back.
Nearly frantic to have him, she struggled against his body to push back and grab at his button and zipper.
The heat of his bare skin—velvet stretched over his cock as she grabbed and gave him a few slow pumps of her fist—nearly stole her breath.
He cursed, a snarl of sound against her neck, where he’d been licking over her collarbone. “Condom,” she urged in a broken whisper.
“Back pocket,” he said, half turning to get his wallet out before he grabbed a condom and tossed it on top of the mess from her bag.
She threw her leg up, hitching her calf around him and holding him in place just in case he thought she needed him to go slow or some such nonsense.
“Now,” she said, underlining that.
“Impatient.”
She tried to laugh but wasn’t entirely successful as he rucked up the hem of her skirt over her hips. The cool air brushed against the backs of her thighs and the sound of her tights being ripped only made her wetter.
His fingertips brushed between her panties and her pussy, sending bursts of sensation through her, rebounding straight to her clit. Enough that when he swirled over it, slowly but surely, it seemed to ripple from there out.
“You’re like liquid heat,” he said, lips against her neck. “It’s all I think about. The way you feel. So soft and hot and wet all for me.”
He shoved aside the material of her underpants and in one thrust seated himself to the root within her.
She writhed, moving what little she could against him as he began to fuck her in earnest. Cora buried her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin, sweat and sex. It made her feel alive.
Each thrust and the pictures hanging on the wall at her back rattled. And it didn’t matter. She wanted him so much it was all she could think about. He had her pinned, angled how he wanted, the fingers of the hand at her hip dug into her flesh.
The other hand though... He’d been cupping her breast, pinching the nipple through her blouse and bra before reaching between their bodies to find her clit again.
He grunted as she tightened up around him, rocketing to climax after just a few touches. She bit down into the muscle and tendons at his shoulder and he tipped his head back, exposing the throat she wasn’t tall enough to get to, even if she had the energy.
He came on a snarled whisper of her name as the echoes of her own climax still rang through her.
Beau pulled out carefully, making sure she was steady on her feet before he headed to take care of the condom.
“Should I be apologizing?” he asked as he joined her in her bedroom, where she’d gone to change her clothes.
“What? Hell no. What makes you ask that?” She pulled off the ruin of her tights, balling them up and tossing them in the trash.
“Because I just showed up after being gone almost a week and fucked you three steps into your house. And because I ripped your tights.”
She danced his way, throwing her arms around him a moment. “See, those are positives from where I’m standing. I can replace torn tights gladly if they get that way because you’re about to make me come.”
He was quiet a few long moments as he watched her change into jeans, boots and a soft gray sweater with tiny unicorns eating doughnuts on it.
“Maybe gave this to me for Christmas a few years ago. It’s seriously one of the best things about winter.”
“Trying not to get whiplash from the way you were classic and elegant at the gallery to this version with goofy sweaters.” His smile was all sexy and even though she’d just come a few minutes before, things were still awake down there. “As homecomings go, that one ranks at the top.” He bent to kiss her.
“When I get back from a trip, I’m coming to your place so I can fuck you against a wall. It can be our thing.”
“As far as those things go, I’m cool with wall fucking as a welcome home being our thing. Like a song, only with orgasms.”
“I really like this idea,” she said.
He grinned, hugging her again before heading toward the door.
It hadn’t occurred to her to be nervous about meeting his friends until the moment he reached out to open up a rear door to the restaurant. Suddenly the unicorns and other whimsy made her wonder what they’d think.
It was too late to do anything about it, so she let him take her hand and guide her through a kitchen she’d expected to be empty because the restaurant had closed an hour before. But it wasn’t empty.
There were several people appearing to finish up and one of them had to be Ian Brewster because he looked even better than he did on a magazine spread or in some local news piece on the very successful gorgeous restaurant entrepreneur.
He caught sight of Beau and Cora, leaning to speak to one of his employees briefly before coming over to them.
“Cora Silvera, this is Ian Brewster,” Beau said.
Instead of a handshake, Ian’s smile shot into a grin and he caught her up in a hug.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cora. Welcome to Luna.”
Ian then explained the leftover rules and that Beau was going to make a meal out of all the wonderful tidbits the others had brought.
Beau took her hand and tugged a little, bringing her closer as they approached the twelve-person-sized chef’s table in a corner of the kitchen. Three people lounged there either nursing bottles of beer or a tall glass of something else.
They all looked up, openly curious about her.
Beau slung an arm around Cora’s shoulders, holding her at his side in a way that was comforting while also being a clear signal that she was with him.
“Everyone, this is Cora. She’s nice and smells good and has manners. Behave yourselves so she’ll stay.”
Cora snorted.
“Len is the one with the septum piercing. On his right is Wyatt, who tells me your sister has done some of his tattoos. On the end there is Jayden.”
She raised a hand in greeting.
“Len, move so Cora can sit there. I want to look at her face when I’m cooking,” Beau said.
The lanky guy with the piercing and a very complicated neck tattoo vacated his chair for Beau to help her into it.
“I hope you’re all hungry,” Beau said after he kissed the top of her head and wandered over to the nearby countertop, where all the different contributions for the evening’s meal sat.
They all stared at her.
“You’re making me feel like a bug,” she said to them.
Beau chuckled, his attention on whatever was going on as he began to unwrap things, Ian acting as his assistant.
“A bug?” Jayden asked.
“Yeah. You know how when you’re a kid you bent down to stare at bugs? Like they were so crazy and wild looking it was hard to believe they were real much less so regular and everyday they lived in large numbers in the grass or the trees,” Cora explained.
Jayden appeared shocked a moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed. “That’s totally how bugs seemed when I was a kid. We’re just nosy. Tell us about yourself.”
“Are you saying you’re crazy and wild looking?” Wyatt asked her in a sexy drawl. “Or that we are?”
“In this group?” Cora gestured to them all, indicating ink and piercings. “Um...” she teased.
“You’re wearing a sweater with unicorns eating doughnuts on it,” Wyatt offered.
Cora shrugged. “Cool, right?”
The laughter that came after that was easier. Genuine.
“STOP STARING AT HER. You’re working with an open flame and my insurance will go up if you burn yourself,” Ian murmured.
Beau just had the most ridiculously hot quickie he’d ever been involved in, only made all the more hot because she’d been as mad to have him as he’d been to have her. More than that, she’d soaked into his system like he’d been parched.
And he’d known it was right to seek her out. Right to want more and tell her so.
“What are you making?” she asked, catching his gaze and smiling that smile she had only for him.
“We’ve got ourselves some shredded beef, roasted sweet potatoes and red pepper, various cheeses, pesto.” He paused to sniff. “From Len I believe as I can smell the cilantro olive oil. Which will go with this pasta. Fresh eggs, some olives and pickled onions. We’re going to eat well.” He winked at Cora.
“I was half expecting something like those wacky baskets on that show with ingredients that shouldn’t go together or that I’ve never heard of but are preserved goat pancreas or whatever,” Cora said, bringing laughter as the group warmed to her.
“Have you ever eaten goat pancreas?” Ian teased.
“I don’t even know if goats have pancreases. I learned from all my travel—I generally don’t ask if I’d be freaked out by the answer. Things taste better that way.”
“That’s a very good rule,” Ian agreed.
Cora absolutely adored this group of friends. They had such a wonderful back-and-forth with lots of humor and patience for each individual’s way of communicating. They asked her questions and listened to her responses.
They seemed to want to know her because Beau had brought her around. They were foulmouthed and fascinating and gave her insight into Beau she’d not expected. There was caring between them. A shared history.
Her memories of him as a young model featured more of an entourage instead of a circle of friends. This was something else entirely.
And their reaction to her also told her something important. This very close-knit group didn’t have a whole lot of guests of the significant other persuasion. It wasn’t the kind of thing one had a casual date for.
An ember of satisfaction banked in her belly that wasn’t entirely about the food she was planning to shove into her face.
And holy shit did her man look good in a kitchen. Making food. For her.
She’d been amped up since the moment he walked into the gallery. Tall and gorgeous and sexy as fuck.
She’d missed him. More than she’d realized until his hands were all over her as he thrust deep and hard into her body. The fire of their energy sizzling between them.
He was back. He’d come to her and now he was bringing her into his friend circle and yet again making her food.
Ian had an inner light. One she thought complemented Beau’s. They had a rhythm in the kitchen, clearly used to working with one another.
Food began to be ferried to the table as whoever was left seated lined up shots of excellent tequila.
Cora didn’t talk nearly as much as she listened, learning each one of the people around the table.
Beau finally joined them, resting his arm along the back of her chair.
They told restaurant stories and kitchen stories and laughed and gossiped and cursed. Beau updated them on his house sale and surprised her when he said he was going to start looking in Seattle and that he thought she’d be a great person to have along.
It was a good surprise.
He wanted her opinion.
He was laying the foundation for a long stint in the city.
He was including her in that step.
It was delightful and a little magical.
* * *
LATER, AS HE led her on a tour through the condo he was staying in, she thought to ask him why he hadn’t opened his own restaurant.
“I like to cook. I like having a television show. Having a restaurant is a whole different level of responsibility. I like being my own boss. Ian is good at it. He likes restaurants as a business. Having employees and insurance and all that. To me? It’s suffocating. I don’t want that relationship to my food.”
Cora nodded, understanding his point. “Fair enough. It’s no skin off my nose to watch you on television. You look good on camera. Like really, really good.”
Quick and smooth, he reached out to grab her around her waist and haul her close. “You watched me? Before we got together I mean.”
“Well, of course I did. Food porn is always better when it’s served up by an attractive guy. Oh man, when you went through that Mohawk stage? Yum. That was super sexy. Two thumbs up.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “I do like this look too though. Makes me want to grab a handful and yank you down to my mouth for a kiss.”
“That’s exactly the thing I’m going for.” He smirked before she did indeed yank him down to her for a quick smooch. “I’m flattered. You smell really good. Like your perfume and sex all bound up. Irresistible.” He nuzzled the spot below her ear and rendered her a little dizzy.
She didn’t have the words to reply so she hummed instead.
After a kiss that left her lips tingly, he continued the tour. The condo was elegant and modern and didn’t feel lived-in at all. Like a gorgeous hotel.
“This is beautiful. What sort of place do you think you want here? A high-rise condo like this? A house?”
He thought awhile. “I like the ability to walk to wherever I’m working. But with the right house and the right kitchen, I could film there.”
“Or maybe if you had an ohana flat you could have the kitchen and filming done there? Have your office or a production space out there too? Makes things easier. Perhaps a house with land so you can put a tiny house out there to make it your workspace and customize it?”
He cocked his head. “Yeah, that would be good. I had a pool house in LA and if I didn’t have guests in it all the time, I could have used it for filming.”
“People don’t come to visit here as much as they do LA, where there’s sunshine, fantastic Mexican food and theme parks. It’s a good exchange I think. But I have hermit tendencies so I may not be a good example.”
“I grew up in a place with communal living. It’s great when kids are really small because more hands make for light work. But then it’s...not so great. I like my space and my privacy. If I had to have a crew in to film, it’d be far easier to have it in a back house or what have you than in my main house.”
She filed that away to keep in mind.
“Yeah, I imagine.”
He brushed a curl back from her face, cupped her cheek briefly. And then neatly changed the subject. “I never did formally ask for your assistance. I really appreciate the help.”
“I’m glad you assumed I’d help. Because I will and I’d do it for any friend.” She took his face in her hands, an echo to his previous gesture. “And for whatever you are to me now.”
“I really missed you this week,” he admitted.
“It’s good to miss someone. Makes it better when you come back together.” She smiled at the snatch of words caught in her mind. The beginning of a poem that’d be about him. Something that was becoming far more common as a theme in her work.
“Except I fucked you against a wall. Not very romantic.” He appeared sheepish, which only made it hotter.
She let herself lean in, drew her mouth up his throat. “Unless the person getting fucked against a wall very much wanted you to fuck them against a wall. In which case, it was very romantic. Some women like roses—I like getting fucked against a wall. But to be fair, I like roses too.”
“I’ll keep both in mind.” In a dizzying move, he switched positions so it was he who kissed her. First her nose, and then he took her mouth. Sank in slow, stayed awhile as he tasted and teased until he released her, leaving her a little breathless.
“Wow,” she managed to say.
With a smirk and one last quick kiss, he said, “My friends like you.”
“I like your friends,” she replied. “And now I have half a dozen new restaurants to try.”
“Will you stay here tonight?”
There was a little vulnerability at the edges of his words.
“Will you make me something yummy for breakfast?” she asked.
“Waffles?”
“Deal.”