Page 3 of The Perfect Ingredient
“What did I do here?” I murmur.
I tilt the tart, examine the edge of his bite, then press my lips precisely to that same spot. I take it in slowly, letting the sticky filling touch my tongue, and close my eyes.
“Mmmm.” I swallow and lick a trace of honey from my bottom lip. “It’sgood, Jean. You have very honest taste. But still… it’s missing something, isn’t it?”
He shifts on the stool, his hands knotted in his lap, hiding his hard-on poorly.
I smile and tap the tart against my chin.
“You know, that happens to meconstantlywhen food is divine. It’s normal, don’t be shy.”
He blinks.
“Hard,” I clarify. “Once, at a tasting in Vienna, someone served me an anise-spiced pear with black pepper caramel. I got so turned on I had to excuse myself to… collect my dignity.”
A strangled noise escapes him—something betweenplease stopandGod help me.
“If you want,” I offer, suddenly realizing the state of things, “you can use the bathroom. Upstairs, past the—no, wait. No, don’t. A pipe broke, and it smells unholy in there.”
He just stares, wide-eyed andbeautifullyhorrified.
“You are welcome to take care of that here,” I gesture vaguely toward the pantry. “I promise I won’t look. Unless youpreferI do. No pressure.”
His jaw drops.
“I-I’m not—! I didn’t mean— I wasn’t—!” His voice is soft, stumbling, sweet. It makes me want to put my mouth on his and stop the half words entirely. “…just happens sometimes. All the time, really…”
“All the time?”
His eyes flick from my hand, my fingers sticky with honey from the tart, to my lips, still shining from the cream.
And then I understand. It arrives not as a shock, but a slow dawning. I see it now, the specific heat in his look.
He got hard watchingme.
My smile spreads.
Then falters.
“Wait. That wasnotthe food?” Jean goes still, eyes wide like a deer that just realized it was halfway into a trap. I slap the tart down. “Sacre merde!I was sure I had it.The one.The orgasmic masterpiece. Thepièce de résistanceof pleasure.”
“I—I didn’t mean—”
“No, no, I’m notmad, darling. Well, Iam. Just not at you.” I sigh, composing myself. “On the bright side...”
I take a step closer, and his shoulders tense.
“Would you like some assistance with that?” I arch a brow, letting my gaze settle where he’s trying and failing to hide his erection. “I was being indecent. It’s only polite to offer.”
His whole body shudders.
“Oh,mon ange,” I murmur, sliding a hand lightly up his arm. He’s warm and solid under his shirt, the strength there so palpable I feel dizzy thinking of the ease with which he could pin me to the wall if he wanted to. “It’s beenweekssince I’ve had a good cock in my mouth. Three, to be precise. Do you have any idea what that does to a man?”
Jean’s breath hitches, the sound loud in the quiet kitchen.
But he’s still here. So the scandalized act isn’t the whole truth, is it?
“Come,” I whisper, stepping closer just enough to press gently on his hip, turning him on the stool so his side’s against the counter and I’m standing between his legs. “Just relax.”
