if carrying heavy trays of food and drink had built up his arms like that. She suspected other, more vigorous pursuits.
Other than the perfect thatch of chest hair that continued in a coy line to disappear into his pants, he had no distinguishing marks. No scars, no tattoos, no piercings.
She placed her open mouth on the hot skin of his chest and felt the strong pound of his heart against her lips. While she was over there, she tackled his belt buckle. He kicked off his shoes and dealt with his socks while she worked his zipper carefully over an impressive package.
He cupped his hands over hers for a moment and held her in place for a moment. His dark eyes held her gaze. “Are you sure about this?”
She squeezed gently. “I’ve never been so sure about anything,” she whispered.
CHAPTER THREE
Sam didn’t do casual sex anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hookup. But he hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while, either. He and Chantale, the temperamental chef he’d worked with at his last restaurant, before he went out on his own, had ended when she threw a chef’s knife at him. She claimed she’d aimed to sink her deboning knife into the side of beef hanging in the walk-in fridge, but the homicidal look in her eye had suggested to him that backing slowly out of that relationship might be a healthy choice.
Luckily, she’d soon fallen for a baker at Pike Place Market and the two were now settled happily, and distantly, in her native Toulouse.
As his hands touched silky warm skin and he heard the sighs of an aroused woman, he realized he hadn’t had sex in almost three months. He’d been crazy busy with the restaurant, and to clear his head and stay in shape, he liked backcountry skiing in the winter and biking the rest of the year. Which hadn’t left him a lot of time for women.
Maybe it was a buildup of being horny, but he never remembered wanting a woman as much as he wanted this one. She was funny and serious at the same time, sweet and sexy in one package. Gorgeous and a little insecure, an absolutely packed pantry of opposites.
And no one knew better than a restaurateur how amazing a dish turned out when filled with complementary opposites. So, he let this sweet and spicy woman take her bold and timid hold of him. She finished with the zipper, reached in and gripped him.
They both gasped. If she’d been only bold, he might have been turned off. No man liked having his meat handled the way a butcher handled sausage. And if she’d been too timid he’d have felt that maybe she was too far out of her comfort zone and he’d feel bad, maybe slow things down. But she was both bold and timid, which was so arousing that he couldn’t have stopped. Not on his own. If she pulled her hand out of his pants and said she’d changed her mind, then okay. No harm, no foul.
But if she wanted to keep exploring, to slide her sweet, sexy hand up and down like that, he wasn’t the man to stop her.
Except that if he didn’t, this was all going to be over way too fast.
So he took her wrist in a gentle grip, pulled her slowly away and kissed her palm. When she looked at him in inquiry he had to be honest. “You’re doing me in,” he whispered. “I want to last a long time for you.”
Bold and timid danced back and forth in her gaze and finally bold won. She said, “Who says there’s only going to be one time?”
He grinned at her, “Oh, you are my kind of woman.”
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