Andie looked at the closed door, “What just happened?”

“Jose is a bright young man.”

Her eyes snapped to… oh..okay.

Oh boy.

The hawk was back.

Damien had been weird all night. Hanging out in the corner of the kitchen all mood and brood and dark looks. Assuming he was just exhausted from his shitty day, she focused on baking pies and charming Chef Bernard.

Chefs were temperamental, but as artists, they responded well to genuine interest in their art form. So she’d been interested and Chef was his usual jolly self in no time. But the jollier the Chef got, the more withdrawn Damien became. And doggone, he wore it better than anyone ought to. Standing there, slumped against her tiny kitchen’s tiny island in a dark grey sweater and old denim all. All moody broody beautiful.

“I’m thinking of offering him a job.” Damien said, tilting his head in a way that said he was considering….something

And who were they…oh right. Jose. “He’s um pretty happy where he is.”

His reply was a low rumbling “Mmm.” As he came up off the wall, prowling towards her with a deceptively lazy gait.

“Uh, he and Tommy are getting ready to expand.”

“You don’t say.” He kept coming. Forget prowling, he was in full stalking mode.

“Um… yep.” She backed up until her butt hit the back of the sofa.

“It’s good to be happy.” He stopped in front of her so close her breasts brushed his chest.

The little tramps pebbled, all tight and aching. “Um..yes it is.”

He planted his hands on the couch on either side of her hips. His face hovering over hers. So close, she could feel the heat coming off him, that yummy scent filled her head, his mouth was so close…oh wait, his lips were moving. She focused on the words. “Are you happy?” He asked.

Was that an in the moment question or was he talking in general, because right now she was kind of a nervous,  hormonal-overload wreck. She went with a “Yes?”  But made it a question. A good compromise and oh he had stubble.

Before she could give in to the temptation it presented, his head dipped his breath heating her neck and she was glad the sofa was there to lean on as lazy, licking flames fanned out from her core and melted her bones.

“Good.” The word was breathed against her throat, “Do you know what would make me happy?”

“Uh…” She’d have made a guess, but those flames had climbed up her body to her brain.

“Stripping you out of these clothes would be a start.”

“Uh….”  Total grey-matter meltdown.

“Let’s get started.” And in one smooth move she was lifted and slung over his shoulder.

Shock was a bucket of ice water on those flames, “Hey! What the fudge?” She pushed off his back, twisting to right a world gone haywire.

“Don’t move.”

A crack in the air and a sting on her behind. And oh holy shitty shit he’d just smaked her ass. Hard.

The jerk.

“Hey! What the fuck?” She protested only to have a matching whack land on her other cheek.

“Sweet girl, if I were you, I’d be good and stay still up there. I’ve had a shit storm of a day and I spent an hour watching that little pervert touching you every chance he got.”

What the hell? He was the one who brought him over. “Chef Bernard is not a pervert.”

“He was all over you.”

“Oh phooey. He’s harmless. He flirts with every girl he sees and put me the fuck down!”

“He wasn’t all over Layla.” She squealed when his head turned and he bit her right where her butt became her thigh, “And watch your language.”

Watch her language? “What the fuck?”

Another smack on her ass as he stopped in front of her room, “This one’s yours?”

“Oui! Dickhead!”

“Oh sweetheart, you’re asking for it.”

Then she was on her feet. Andie shoved the hair off her face and faced Mr. Beat His Chest Like A Beast, “Look here, you.” She geared up for a good solid set down, but she was interrupted.

“Kitten, I’ve been looking. Stan and Maurice have been looking. That little twerp Bernard’s been looking and there is way too much of you on display.”

Oh no he didn’t. “It’s shorts and a t-shirt and you have no say over how I dress.”

“It’s November and I beg to differ.” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised one of his perfect eyebrows and she wanted to smack it off or maybe kiss him silly.

“Beg all you want, I don’t give a flip. It gets hot in the kitchen when the gas stove is running.”

The Beast made a rude sound of disbelief and she was back to smacking him because THAT pissed her right off, “This may come as a shock to you, but those of us not living on fucking Mt. Goddamn Olympus don’t have our choice of dream kitchens in which to bake.”

Damien opened his mouth and oh hell no. “Don’t you dare interrupt me, you privileged, self-centered ass.”

“Kitten, you’re on dangerous ground.”

“Ooooh, I’m scared.” She held up her hands waving her fingers and made woo-woo sounds. Childish? Maybe, but he was acting like a spoiled five year old and she was too mad to think of anything else, “Get out of my room, you prick.”

“What did you say to me?” Damien went still, his voice dropping.

A warning flared in her mind but she couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in her ears, “What? You don’t understand English? How about this?” And then, since they were in Romper Room, she crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and just for kicks finished it off with a spectacular raspberry.

So there, and take that, and…..oh, shit!


Damien Drake was across the room in two strides. His face a thundercloud. Eyes demon black, he grabbed her around her waist then she was across his lap, her raging sheiks drowning out the sound of his hand connecting with her behind, but she felt it plenty. And oooh she was mad.

She shoved, slid, and slapped, but he trapped her lower body with his legs, capturing her hands holding them behind her back. Her apron loosened and before she could do more than scream in impotent fury her hands were tied behind her with her own apron strings. And she was trapped.

“Let me go you, dick-head.” Her shout got her two more stinging slaps.

“Kitten, I’m not in the mood to be disrespected.” His hand fell again.

“Fuck you.” 

“That earned you five more.” His hand came down- left cheek, right cheek, and then he slapped her low, between her thighs and a different kind of heat stirred, curling low in her belly and oh, that made her furious.

How dare the asshole spank her and make her like it. She bucked against him, spitting curses.

“Five more.” His hand came down again and again. She writhed, her blood was hot fire in her veins. Her breathing coming in frustrated pants and still his hand came down.

And Andie felt her body betraying her with every stinging slap.

The curling heat spread, making her breasts heavy, her nipples pebbling to aching points, her sex swelling and slicking her panties. Helpless rage brought humiliated tears to her eyes, pain in her heart and bitterness on her tongue, “I hate you.”

“No, baby, you don’t.” The hand came down and stayed holding the heat he’d raised, “What you are, is turned on,” Sliding his hand down, he cupped her, “You’re so hot you’re panting.”

“No.” It was a flat out lie and he knew it.

“Yes.” Fingers slipped under the shorts and inside her panties. Andie closed her eyes against what she couldn’t deny, “Your creaming so hard, your panties are soaked through. Stop fighting me, baby. Stop fighting yourself.”

He was right. Fighting was useless when her body was screaming for more. With a sob, she stilled.

“Good girl,” His finger slid deep inside her. His other hand jerked her shorts and panties down Then his open palm returned to her bare ass massaging, kneading.

“Should I stop, Andie?” The finger pumped once and stilled. The hand on her ass burned.

She shook her head. 

“Hmm, normally you’d have to say it, but since your creaming my hand, I’ll accept that.” And his hand lifted coming down again and again. Pain blossomed to burning heat, the ache in her belly swirled hot and sweet. And she was lost.

His hand came down on her ass while he played with her sex. Circling, sliding, pinching her clit. The burning pain and excruciating pleasure overpowering her.

His low groan of male need vibrating through her belly sent her tumbling over, shuddering, coming on the fingers mercilessly making her feel as his hand rained down blows that her body welcomed.

“Fuck me, but you are beautiful.”

She was barely aware of being lifted and turned moved so that her torso lay on the bed, softly spoken words and guiding hands positioned her on her knees, gentle pressure on her neck.  “Head down.”

Dazed, she followed the whispered instructions, felt the cool familiar touch of her cotton comforter on her cheek. A grazing touch slid down her spine, neck to ass, “Arch your back for me.”

She complied. Her breath quickening, knowing he could see all of her.

“Perfect. So wet and ready for me.” A light touch circling her, “Beautiful.” A reverent kiss to the base of her spine. She heard the rustling of clothing. The rip of foil.

“You feel empty? You need me here, filling you up.” A single finger slid barely inside, with a groan she pushed back.

The touch was gone.  “Oh no baby, not until you tell me. Say it.”

“I need you.” The admission fell easily from her lips.

He took her hips in his hands holding her and then he was inside her, thick, hard, hot, and so  very deep. He thrust inside her and she burned, wriggling, attempting to meet him.

“No.” His hands on her hips tightened, holding her immobile so all she could do was feel him inside her. And Oh God, her body responded, her sex quivering for this man’s possession that shattered her soul.

“God, yes, baby.” He groaned, thrusting Releasing her hips, he wrapped one arm around her waist and leaned down his forearm resting on the bed beside her his hand gripping her hair, He thrust deeper harder. The slick sounds of their bodies mating and her own whimpering moans filling her ears. The heat turned scorching. Their bodies grew slick. His mouth pressed to her ear as his fingers slid over her clit, “So hot and tight. So. Fucking. Good.”  You’re going to come for me, now. Aren’t you, Andie?”

She whimpered and felt a sharp pinch to her screaming nerves, “Answer me.”

“Yes.” Andie lost herself. Pleasure cresting and cresting again until she tumbled into a deep dark abyss, drowning in sensations she was powerless to fight.



He lay panting, spent. The woman under him sweet and soft in his arms, and silent. Too silent.


“Can you get off me please?” Though muffled by her her hair, the words sounded far too quiet.

He withdrew, rolling away he reached for her, but she scooted off the bed, her face averted. Not good.


She went to her closet, pulling out a robe and wrapping it around herself, jkeeping her b ack to him. The silence hung heavy and ominous. “Andie, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” She looked up then. He saw her eyes shimmer with tears that streamed down her cheeks.

Shit. Oh shit He leaped from the bed, reaching for her, “Andie, sweetheart….”

She backed away, shoulders hunched, dashing tears from her cheeks “Please, don’t touch me.” It was a whisper, not sad, not angry. She sounded hollow.

Hollow was not good. “Did I hurt you?”

That was the wrong thing to ask. Or maybe it was the right, because it got a reaction.

She laughed, but it had no humor. It was sharp, acrid, bitter, “Did you hurt me? That was the whole point, wasn’t it, to hurt me.”

“No,” Sweet shit. Now, that his brain was clearing he could feel a chill racing up his spine. He followed it to the inevitable conclusiom. He’d fucked up, “Not the way…no.”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand, “Look, I know what happened. I understand I liked it. Hell, I had my butt in the air begging for more, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it again. It doesn’t mean I wanted it in the first place.”

Oh, yes he’d fucked up. Royally. “I’m sorry.”

She crossed her arms over her chest as if protecting herself…from him, “Somehow, ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I know.” Coming down off the high he’d been riding since she’s blown her raspberry, the realization of his fuck up wasn’t just hitting him, it was beating him bloody. He’d forced a woman he supposedly cared about into his world with no warning or preparation. Nothing.  What the fuck had come over him. It all happened so fast and she’d been so perfect. Anger, passion and fury So honest. So exactly what he needed he’d…. just… gone with it.

Gone with it? With the girl who’d been a virgin only twenty-four hours ago? Damn, but if he could punch himself in the face he’d beat himself unconcious. What the hell was wrong with him? Whatever it was, he’d have to work it out later. Right now, he had to somehow makethe woman he’d betrayed understand how sorry he was. He searched for words. Found none.

“Andie, God baby. I’m so sorry.” Heartfelt and lame as shit.

He was an asshole.

A small smile flitted over her tear stained face, beautifully honest and heartbreakingly sad, “I believe you.”

Well, that was something. Not much. But a damn sight more than he deserved.

“I need to think.” She wiped at her damp cheeks, “You need to go.”

“All right. I’ll leave you, for now.”

“Please.” She turned away from him. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

And because he knew she would not welcome any help he could give, he walked away. Rubbing at the new and utterly foreign, aching, empty hole in his chest.