When a competitive foodie and an ultra-competitive paramedic get together, winning is everything….
He set his wine on the counter and crossed the kitchen. “I have the ultimate respect for you after what you did on Wednesday,” he said, purposefully pitching his voice low and rough, waiting for her response. He knew so little about what turned her on, but that did, his honest reaction to the memory of what she’d done to him. He was a little aroused and a little embarrassed and a whole lot desperate to do it again.
She’d done all the heavy lifting last time, so it was a relief to brace his forearms on the stove’s hood and explore the curve of her ear, using only his lips until she shuddered and her eyelids drooped. He gently traced the inner whorl with his tongue, then nipped less gently at her lobe, noting that her hand, automatically stirring something thick and yellow, halted entirely at the use of his teeth. She liked the edge, but then again, he already knew that.
“You’re playing dirty,” she said.
“This surprises you?” he murmured into her hair. “I thought you were sharper than that.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. Her hand hovered dangerously close to the hot pot, so he slid his fingers along her forearm and guided it to the counter. “I’m letting you know I see what you’re doing.”
Wild curls tickled his cheek as he smiled. “What am I doing?”
“You’re looking down my shirt, for one.”
He outright laughed. “I am. I didn’t see anything last time.”
“You certainly did,” she said.
“All right, I didn’t see enough.”
“And you’re trying to seduce me out of taking a forfeit.”
“Right again,” he said. He unfastened the knitted belt of her sweater and opened the fabric. It was warm to the touch, perhaps from the heat of the stove, but more likely from the heat of her body, radiating like the scent of the sauce and whatever grain was slowly bubbling at the back of the stove.
“Hmm,” she said as he rested his hands on her rib cage, just below her breasts. “What will you give me in exchange for releasing you from our agreement?”