And those fucking forearms, with their muscles, looking all corded and sexy as he chopped cabbage. Fucking cabbage. It was not a sexy vegetable, unless put in the hands of Derek Andrews.
She could not say any of that. Instead, Lillian sighed, “It’s a tiny cut, no big deal.”
She was right, of course, but Derek found he didn’t like the idea of her getting hurt. Which was absurd. He himself had kitchen scars all over his hands, the remnants of burns on his forearms. Battle wounds of a chef.
He wanted to take care of it. Gently wash the wound. Suck the tips of her other fingers into his mouth and gently bite down.
Derek met her eyes and Lillian felt a jolt of lust. He hissed, so softly she might have missed it, his body moving infinitesimally closer to hers, the heat from him surrounding her.
He smelled like herbs, and soap, and the deep earthy smell of man. She wanted to kiss the hollow at his throat where his pulse beat. Might have leaned in and sucked there if a voice hadn’t asked, “Is the oil supposed to be smoking?”
Derek dropped her hand and jumped back. Quickly, he killed the heat at his wayward student’s station. To Lillian he said, “Please wash your hand, I’ll be back to help you.”
The flustered student started to apologize. Derek stopped him with a gentle, “Try a lower temperature on your burner.”
Then he joined Lillian at the sink where she patted her hands dry with paper towel. She smiled up at him, “It’s not even bleeding anymore.”
“We should bandage it up anyway.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine.”
“It’s the sanitary thing to do,” he said at the same time.
Which was the least sexy thing he could think of, but it did give him an excuse to hold her hand again. She drew in a soft breath. He wanted to hear those soft breaths, the little hiccups and gasps he knew she would make, while he kissed her neck, sucked her —
“Oh,” her soft sigh, made his cock, already semi-hard and looking for any excuse to party, throb. She knew. Somehow, the way she watched him with those deep, dark eyes, she felt the heat between them and knew he wanted her.
She wanted him just as much, she told him, leaning her body into him, his eyes once again falling to her lush tits, the shadows between them, oh god, he wanted to bury his face right there and suck —
Get ahold of yourself, Andrews! He gently wrapped her knuckle and handed her a rubber glove.
Her voice came out husky and soft, “Thank you.”
He tried to pay attention to the rest of the class, the ones making eyes at each other, and laughing and kissing between chopping and stirring. He walked around and assisted where he could.
The class finished without anything else burning and the couples headed out to do what happy couples did on Valentine’s day.
For some reason, Lillian found herself taking a little longer to pack her bag, washing her hands, until she and Derek were the last ones left.
She wanted the taciturn chef, wanted to kiss him, run her fingers through his salt and pepper hair, feel what it was like to have all that knowledge and laser focus, zeroed in on her.
“I’m sorry I assumed you were attending the class with someone.” He spoke softly but clearly. Lillian liked the deep timbre of his voice.
“An apology isn’t necessary. Obviously, I was the only one by myself.”
“Is someone meeting you later?” Derek asked, before he could stop himself.
She paused in sliding her purse strap onto her shoulder. “No.”
“Me either.” He didn’t want her to go. There were layers to this woman, and he wanted to spend hours getting to know each and every one of them. “I mean, no one’s meeting me for anything.”
And before he could let his nerves take over, he asked, “Would you like a glass of wine?”
She smiled, dimples flashing. “I’d like that.” Then she stuck out her hand, “I’m Lillian.”
“Derek. Nice to meet you.”
The classroom was set up with a wine cooler for the sommelier classes. He pulled out a bottle of red, deftly opened it, and set it down to breathe. “So, Lillian, why did you take the class?”
“I wanted to learn how to cook something indulgent. And vegetarian friendly.” Lillian leaned her hip against his stainless-steel workstation.
“We found there is a good market for meals catering toward certain dietary needs.” Damnit, why did he have to sound like a brochure when he talked to her? Her tits, and nearness made him stupid with desire.
“We?”
“My sister and me. She does the business end. I cook.”
“You’re very good at it.”
He had been written up in magazines all over the country. Had awards lined up on his office shelves. The way Lillian complimented him felt just as good as those. And significantly sexier. She put just enough inflection on good to have him thinking about other things he was good at. More than good at.
“I’ve had a lot of years of practice.” When the wine was ready, he poured. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lillian.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, Derek.” She clinked her glass against his. After she took a small sip, savoring the rich flavors, she smiled up at him. “Maybe I’m reading this wrong, and if so, honestly, no hurt feelings, but if I’m not, well I decided months ago I was going to stop being afraid to try things. To do the things I want to do. To use my voice.”
He watched her blush creep up her neck and flood her cheeks. But she went on, her voice strong and sure, “I’m very attracted to you and if the feeling is the same, I would very much like to…”
And there she faltered.
He wanted her to finish. Needed her to finish. He watched her mouth, the faintest hint of purple from the wine staining her lips.
While he watched, those lips, lush and full — how he was going to enjoy tasting those lips — formed the words he so desperately needed to hear, “I would very much like to fuck.”
Derek grinned, wolfish and sure. “I’d very much like that, too.”
He knew the outside door automatically locked behind exiting students and no one was in the building except the two of them.
Ever so patiently, as if they had all day, Derek took Lillian’s wine glass and set it on one of the student stations. He put his down next to it.
With his stainless-steel prep table, clear, Derek moved, swift and sure, and pulled Lillian against him. He turned so the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the table. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes, god, yes,” Lillian sighed as his lips slip over her jaw and down her neck. He nipped at her collarbone and then gently, so slowly he could see her eyes fall closed, feel her soft breath across his lips, he kissed her wine-stained mouth.
She leaned into him, he mouth opening wider, pulling him to her. With just an easy hitch, he yanked her off her feet and dropped her ass onto the edge of the table. Lillian moaned and spread her legs, pulling him into her.
He pressed his throbbing cock against her and thanked all the gods for the thin fabric of leggings because holy shit, he could feel her hot, wet pussy and they were both dressed. She groaned when he rubbed against her and her legs came up around his waist, pulling him closer.
He ground against her for a second. Jesus, if he wasn’t careful was going to come before he even got her panties off.