“Fuck,” he said with a slow groan. “That was amazing.”
“And just think…” she teased. “We haven’t even made it to the bedroom yet.”
Chapter Five
“I’ve never seen anyone cook naked before,” Callan commented, leaning against the island counter in the hotel suite’s kitchen as Josie stood in front of the range in nothing but an apron.
“I’m technically wearing an apron,” she pointed out, jostling the string around her waist. “So, I’m not naked. Safety first, you know.”
He chuckled, picking up the glass of whiskey in front of him and sipping on it. “What are you making anyway?”
As soon as they’d recovered from their third bout of having sex, she’d declared she was famished and needed sustenance. Literally. That was how she’d said it. He’d offered her room service—hello, this was the MGM—but she’d insisted on cooking something herself. Luckily, he had a fully stocked fridge, so that wasn’t a concern.
“Breakfast,” she replied.
He glanced down at his Rolex. It was almost three in the morning. “Well, I guess it is almost morning.”
Josie turned her head to look back at him, a dashing smile on her face. “Breakfast for late-night dinner is one of the best luxuries in life.”
“The hotel does serve food all day long to the penthouse, you know,” he reminded her as he walked up behind her and circled his arms around her waist. She leaned her head to the side as he kissed her neck. “We could have had this ordered in…to bed.”
She swatted him away. “There’s still plenty of time for that. I just love to cook. I was going to be a chef, you know.”
He leaned back against the counter. “Were you?”
She nodded. “I was. Until my brother’s career kind of took center stage in my family.”
“What’s your brother’s career have to do with you?” he asked as she plated an omelet and placed it in front of him. It had to be the fluffiest, most delectable stack of eggs and cheese he’d ever smelled.
“What happened to our rules?” She lifted one brow as she looked up at him. “No details, remember.”
“Humor me,” he responded.
Indecision crossed her face, but she finally shrugged her shoulders. “I work for my brother.”
She stabbed a fork into his omelet and took a bite for herself.
He surveyed her face as she spoke and noticed a flicker of something—resentment, annoyance? He wasn’t sure, but it seemed negative. He wanted to dig a little deeper.
“Is that your dream job?”
She snorted, rolling her eyes so hard that they practically rolled into the back of her head. “Far from it. Like I said, I wanted to be a chef. I actually went to culinary school straight out of college. I have the skills to be one if I wanted. I just need to study under a chef for a while and get some experience in a kitchen—if any damn place would actually hire me. My real dream is to work on the strip one day or have a restaurant out in Los Angeles.”
“Really?” That news perked up his ears. His hometown. “Los Angeles would be lucky to have you.”
She handed him her fork, and he took a bite of the omelet. The taste was every bit as good as how the eggs looked in their presentation. Better, even. The flavors teased and exploded against his tongue with every bite—a mixture of cheese and bacon and egg that worked perfectly together.
“Mmm.” He closed his eyes. “Yeah, we’d be fucking thrilled to have you. You’re talented, Josie. You should be doing what you love. You should be cooking.”
“Maybe one day.” She shrugged, sauntering back to the refrigerator, where she pulled out a carton of orange juice and poured a glass. She took a sip first and then placed it in front of him.
Callan offered her another bite of the large omelet because it was way too much for him to eat alone. She accepted, and he fed it to her. It was damn near sensual, and he realized he was getting turned on again just at the way her lips wrapped around the fork and pulled at the eggs.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he said with a low growl coming up from his chest.
She grinned. “Do you want me to blow on it for you?”
There was no other way to answer that question except hell fucking yes.
With deliberate movements, he slowly pushed down the top of his sweatpants. He worked himself out of his boxer briefs and held his cock in his hands.
Her eyes widened as she watched him, and she visibly swallowed, her chest rising and falling faster and faster as her breath quickened.
“Get on your knees.”
“Is that a command,” she dared him, her eyes sparkling with desire and the hint of a smile on her lips. “Sir?”
“Get. On. Your. Knees.” He would only repeat himself once.
Sauntering over to him, she placed her hands on his chest and slowly dropped to her knees, letting her hands slide down his chest as she did so. Her nails grazed his abs and stopped at the hem of his sweatpants, finding a resting spot on his hips.
“Mmm,” she moaned as she leaned forward and let her tongue slide across the length of his hardened cock.
He hissed at the warm, wet sensation of her mouth, his hips bucking forward at the feeling. He moved deeper into her mouth, the warmth of her lips covering him as she took him deeper and deeper. Within seconds, he was sliding down her throat and then pulling back out, only to slide back down again.
The woman had no gag reflex. It was incredibly sexy, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking full advantage of wanting every delicious lick of her tongue. She swirled around him like she was licking a lollipop, and he knew he was close.
“I’m close,” he told her, warning her, but she just pulled him tighter against her.
When he came, she took everything he had to offer and then stood up like it was no big deal. He had to sit down at the kitchen island to collect himself, but she leaned against the counter and helped herself to the rest of the omelet like she was famished from a workout.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said.
She chuckled. “Oh, I know. But wait until I make you my soufflé. You’ll never be the same.”
He lifted one brow. “Is that so?”
Josie finished her food and washed the plate, yawning and stretching her arms over her head.
“Ready for bed?” he asked.
Sheepishly, she glanced at him. “Honestly, a little bit. Maybe a short nap?”
Callan grinned, reaching a hand out toward her. “Come on, little one. Let’s go to bed.”
She took his hand and curled up into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, and they walked to the bedroom. He pulled the covers down on the mattress and watched as she crawled into the middle of the bed, taking the apron off and throwing it onto the floor.
Callan rid himself of his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxer briefs, and crawled into the king-size bed beside her.
The big spoon to her little spoon, he wrapped his body around hers from behind. She sighed contentedly and backed up into him.
“Good night, Callan,” she said with a soft whisper, kissing the back of his hand.
“Good night, Josie,” he replied, kissing the side of her head through her curly mound of hair. “Thanks for tonight.”