Obsession (5 page)

“My compliments to the chef.”

Josie looked away quickly. The recipe was one her
granme
had shared with her, teaching her how to make it when she was eight and was no longer a danger around an open flame. Over the years, she’d learned to experiment with the spices herself and even her
granme
had proclaimed hers the best she’d ever tasted.

“Most Creole food is meant to be eaten with your fingers,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

His gaze seemed to linger on her hands as she licked bread crumbs from the pad of her thumb. “I think I can get used to it.” His eyes smiled at her.

“After this morning, I feel at a disadvantage,” she said.

“Oh?”

“You know more about me than I do about you.”

His gaze dropped to his soup as he expertly scooped up a dollop of it from the side before it could drip onto the place mat.

“I mean, did you always want to work in the auto industry? I can see a little boy dreaming of growing up to be a race-car driver, or even fixing up classics, but…”

“But you can’t imagine a ten-year-old thinking, ‘Gee, I think I’ll sell car parts when I grow up.’”

He loved it when she smiled.

Drew had to remind himself to eat his soup as he watched the woman across from him. It wasn’t that the soup wasn’t delicious; it was. It was just that Josie looked even more appetizing.

He’d thought deeply about not coming to the late lunch. But when the time came and went, and the prospect of standing her up became more fact than possibility, he’d found himself almost running in order to make it back to the hotel.

The thought of hurting this beautiful creature, of giving her cause to think he wasn’t interested in her, emerged too much of an injustice to ignore.

And now as he sat there enjoying watching her, all misgivings disappeared.

Even her question about his career slid off his back with ease.

And he knew why. His physical need for her
was increasing exponentially with each time their paths crossed, banning his mind from playing any role in what was happening between them on a primal level.

He also knew there was an answer to his dilemma. He could tell her the truth.

“N
O
, I
DIDN’T DREAM OF BEING
a car-parts salesman.” Drew searched for the words to tell her the truth. Tell her who he was and what his intentions were—his client and the consequences be damned. He had to tell her. He couldn’t continue without her knowing the truth.

“What did you dream of being?”

The question took Drew aback.

He could count on one hand the times he’d been asked something so personal. And even then the questions had been asked by people like school guidance counselors whose job it was to steer him toward something more productive than what his upbringing had prepared him for.

He looked at Josie now.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“There had to be something. A fireman? Policeman?”

“Indian chief?”

Her laugh reached in and touched something he hadn’t known was inside him. A sensitive place, a soft spot that absorbed her interest like a dry sponge drank up a drop of water.

“Funny. You know what I mean.”

And, remarkably, he did.

Had anyone else asked the question, he would have come up with some off-the cuff response like “A lawyer, because I used to watch Perry Mason.”

But he was finding that giving Josie any kind of easy, superficial response was impossible. And that he genuinely wanted to answer her questions.

“A postman.”

One of her finely shaped brows rose. “Like in mailman?”

“One and the same.” He finished his soup and took a sip of his wine. “Our mailman, George, was just about the only positive male influence I had in my life growing up. So I wanted to be like him.” He chuckled quietly, having long forgotten about George and the memories connected to him. “When I was seven I actually went and collected the mail from the neighbors’ boxes, put them in my own makeshift bag, then redelivered the mail.”

“Oh, boy,” Josie said.

“Oh, boy is right. A grumpy old man a couple of trailers up called the police on me. Who knew
playing—although
tampering
is the word that was used—with the U.S. mail is a felony?” He shook his head. “The officer that responded seemed to understand, though. He ruffled my hair—which, of course, I hated. George never ruffled my hair. And he told me to go play kick ball or something else that didn’t involve the mail. Or if I felt the need to deliver, I could make up my own mail.”

“Did you?”

“No. By then the shine was off the silverware.”

Josie leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. “You know, listening to you makes me remember about how I once dreamed of being an actress.” She cringed as if the memory were embarrassing. “I’d watched a movie with Mae West in it, then found an old red boa in my
granme’s
things and proceeded to strut around the hotel flipping the boa and asking, ‘Why don’t you come up sometime and see me, big boy?’”

“Uh-oh…”

Drew looked around him, considering the type of clientele the hotel attracted.

Josie laughed. “My
granme
nearly strangled me with the boa when she caught a traveling salesman trying to take me up on my offer.” She visibly shuddered then smoothed the goose bumps from her arms by rubbing them. “Of course, I was
six and had no idea what kind of trouble I could have gotten into if not for my grandmother, but now…”

Drew tried to imagine a six-year-old Josie slinking around the hotel lobby wearing a red boa and making dangerous propositions to strange men. And he felt a desire to protect her surge up within him that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Oh! I almost forgot the next course.”

Drew watched her clear the bowls of soup. “You mean there’s more?”

“Is there ever.” She took the top off a large pot. Steam rose up, dampening her honey-colored skin and pinkening her cheeks. “Move the silverware and the glasses off to the side of the table for me, will you?”

He did as asked, watching as she tipped a high container full of something he couldn’t see into the pot, then used a long-handled spoon to stir the mix. Then she turned and grabbed a small pile of newspapers.

“Here,” she said, “help me spread these across the cutting board.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant, so he watched her open the papers and place them so they covered the surface before him. He did the same. Their hands
bumped and they both paused, their gazes meeting between the short distance that separated them.

Up this close, her eyes were the palest shade of brown he’d ever seen. And were so damn captivating he didn’t dare blink.

She gave a shaky smile. “I think that should do it.”

Was it him or was her voice just a tad breathless?

She went to the pot and lifted what looked like a colander from inside it. Giving it a good shake, she stepped to the table then tipped the contents out onto the papers.

Crabs. Dozens of them. Orange and glistening and all about the size of his hand.

She put the colander back inside the pot then returned to the table, handing him what looked like a nutcracker.

“Blue crabs,” she said. “A Creole specialty. Although they’re better in the spring during the mating season, these will do.” She gestured to where he held his shell cracker awkwardly. “You probably won’t need those since the shells are soft.”

Drew chuckled, staring at the mass of seafood covering the papers between them. “What do I do?”

She picked up one of the crabs then inserted her fingertips into the top and pulled. The shell
easily split in two. She picked meat out and slipped it into her mouth, moaning as she licked her fingers. “Try it.”

He did and found it amazingly easy to mimic her movements.

“No, don’t eat that,” she said. “Intestines.” She gestured toward the top half. “There.”

He carefully plucked out the meat and put it into his mouth. The texture was smooth and solid and magnificently good. The flavor exploded on Drew’s tongue. “Spicy.”

She smiled. “It’s the boil.”

He opened another crab.

“Mmm, a sook.” Josie leaned across the table and scooped something out near the bottom of the inner shell. “Here,” she murmured, holding the food near his mouth.

His heart beating thickly in his chest, he leaned forward and opened his mouth, slowly encircling her slender fingers with it. He closed his lips, enjoying the taste of the crab as much as the taste of her. Hot cayenne pepper and sweet Josie was a combination no man could resist. And Drew wasn’t in a resistant mood.

He sucked gently, then swirled his tongue around her index finger, his gaze glued to her expressive face. The black of her pupils nearly
overtook the golden brown of her irises and she caught her breath as he trailed his own damp fingertips over the inside of her wrist.

“Those, um, are the female’s eggs.”

He withdrew his mouth. “Good thing you told me that after I ate them.”

She sat back down. “Best part of the crab.”

They ate in silence for the next few minutes, although Drew’s mind couldn’t have been farther from the food in front of him, no matter how good. Instead, his thoughts were solely on the delicious woman across from him.

Damn, but she was beautiful. And sexy. And the seductive way she cracked open the small crab claws and sucked the meat from them made his groin pull tight. What made him harder still was the unselfconscious way she ate, without concern of how she might appear, no pretense, no formalities. Only a pure enjoyment of the meal and of his company.

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped eating until her movements slowed, then halted altogether. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she couldn’t pull in enough air from her nose alone. And he felt like the precious resource was at a premium in the warm room. He watched her pulse beat at the base of her throat, a droplet of moisture moving down
her neck to disappear into the deep neckline of her dress. He followed the movement and unconsciously licked the corner of his mouth as if he could taste the salty droplet.

Josie’s pulse pounded so hard she couldn’t hear anything else but the hastening beat of her heart. As Drew’s gaze slid to her breasts, she felt her nipples harden into tight knots beneath the light fabric covering them. He looked devilishly handsome in that one moment. Irresistible. And so damn sexy that she felt her mouth water with the desire to kiss him again. Not on a public street. But here in the private haven of her hotel’s kitchen.

At the same time, they reached for the newspapers covering the cutting board between them, shoving them and the shells and whole crabs to the floor along with their wineglasses and the bottle of wine. They both climbed up on top, their hands seeking each other’s faces, their mouths meeting hungrily.

Josie couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so spontaneously compelled to have sex with anyone before. She wanted Drew with an urgency that almost hurt.

He touched her legs, scooting his fingers up the hem where she kneeled. When she thought he
might touch her aching flesh, he rounded to her panty-covered bottom and pulled her until she was straddling him on top of the table. She snaked her arms around his neck and held tight, feeling the rigid length of him nestled in her shallow channel, nothing but fabric separating them. She restlessly tilted her head to the right, then the left, kissing him with a desperation that bordered on insanity, as he did the same with her, first holding her head still as he launched an assault on her lips, then pulling her hips tightly against his until she moaned.

“Jesus,” he ground out, nuzzling her neck almost roughly. “I’m burning up.”

She threaded her fingers through his hair, mindless that they were still damp with crab juice, and kissed him. “It’s the spices.”

He shook his head as they kissed again. “No, Josie, it’s you.”

He peeled her from him then slid off the table, pulling her hips until they were even with the edge. Josie gasped at the sudden move, helpless to stop him as he shoved her dress up. Her chest heaved as he stared at her womanhood covered by her purple satin panties. She pulled the rest of the dress off, watching with satisfaction as his gaze moved from her thighs to her breasts. Breasts that
were normally constrained in a bra but she’d left free and loose while she cooked.

He leaned in as if to take one of her breasts into his mouth, but she stilled him with a hand against his chest, then pulled his shirt up and over his head. She took him in. For a car-parts salesman, he had a dark tan and a fit physique, equal to that of a male cover model. She licked her finger and drew it from his thick, well-defined collarbone down around one of his flat nipples, before tweaking the tiny pebble of flesh then drawing it into her mouth.

Drew grew taut, groaning at her unexpected attention. It seemed only natural to Josie that if a woman could get so much pleasure from having her breasts licked, then the same would apply to a man. And she took private pleasure in being proven right.

Drew’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs as she worked, laving each of his nipples then suckling them, blowing on the distended flesh while it was still wet. His hips bucked, putting his erection against her. Then his fingers found the sides of her panties and he stepped back, freeing her from her one last bit of clothing.

He stood for long moments, saying nothing as he nudged her knees farther apart with his hips and
stood gazing at her bared womanhood with what she could only call awe. Then he was touching her dark, springy curls, parting her farther. Josie grasped his shoulders and shivered at his light touch.

He kissed her again. Hard and demandingly. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he pushed her back until she lay flat against the table. He rested one hand between her breasts and held her still as he leaned forward to pull one of her nipples deep into mouth.

Sensation exploded within Josie. Hot, so very hot. Realization slowly sank through her passion-clouded mind that it must be the spices. The cayenne they’d eaten and that remained on Drew’s tongue made each lick hotter than the one before, adding a sensation she’d never experienced before. She tightly grasped his shoulders, bracing herself as a blissful shudder ran through her body.

Is that how her licking had made him feel?

She didn’t have a chance to answer the question because Drew had left her breasts and was laving a path down her quivering stomach toward the V of black hair at the top of her thighs. She restlessly licked her lips, wondering if her sensitive flesh could withstand the spicy attention. Then he was parting her with his thumbs and taking her tight
bud between his lips and the worry was whipped from her mind, replaced by searing pleasure.

“Oh!” Josie sought something, anything, to grab a hold of—Drew’s hair, the edge of the table—to gain a stability that she feared she’d never find again. He sucked in deeply, then one of his fingers rimmed her flesh before thrusting inside to the hilt, so that she felt the palm of his hand pressing against her burning clit.

Red, hot sensation shot over and through and around Josie again and again. She writhed on the table, bearing down against the hand bringing her so much pleasure, rubbing the spices even farther into her swollen flesh.

She was just beginning to flutter back down to earth when she blinked open her eyes to find Drew had shucked his pants with his free hand and was rolling a condom down the thick, hard length of his erection. She swallowed hard and braced her feet against the side of the table, readying herself for his first thrust.