Kiss The Cook

movies.'

'Clearly that is a misconception.'

'Clearly,' she agreed. 'Well, one of us is going to have to get up and find us something to eat and drink before we shrivel up and die of starvation and dehydration.'

He still didn't move. 'Yeah, I guess one of us is going to have to do that.'

The husky note of utter exhaustion in his voice amused her. Summoning up what little energy she had left, Melanie rolled onto her side, propped her head up on her palm, and gazed down at her lover.

Her lover.

Those two simple words echoed over and over in her mind, inundating her with a kaleidoscope of feelings she'd never before experienced. She'd spent the night with Chris, her lover, doing things she'd never done before. Her previous experiences with what's-his-name had always left her feeling awkward and clumsy.

But not with Chris.

She'd lost count of how many times they'd made love, but the multitude of discarded foil packets scattered on the comforter let her know that it was quite a few. And each had proven more incredible than the last.

But they hadn't only made love. They'd talked and laughed, explored and discovered. Until last night she'd honestly thought sex consisted of thirty seconds of optional foreplay, several minutes of moaning, followed by eight hours of sleep. Chris had certainly disabused her of that notion.

By the time they'd reached 'request number three,' all Melanie's previous inhibitions had faded into oblivion. The words shy and retiring no longer resided in her vocabulary.

And Chris certainly didn't seem to mind. In fact, he'd encouraged her to take the initiative, and she had. Several times. Much to their mutual pleasure.

Her gaze drifted over him and she sighed with deep contentment. Christopher Bishop had to be the sexiest man on the planet. Lying next to her, gorgeous, naked, one arm flung over his eyes, the other upraised to pillow his head, he was the most incredible man she'd ever seen. And in the lover department-well, the man was definitely a ten. More like an eleven. Okay, he was a 2,435.

Now here was a candidate for cloning, she decided, her gaze drifting down, over his muscle-ridged abdomen, lingering momentarily on his relaxed but still impressive manhood, then continuing down over his long, strong legs. Why the hell waste time cloning sheep when there were guys like Chris around? What a waste of medical science.

Her emotions had bubbled to the surface several times during the night, but she'd ruthlessly beaten them back. This was an affair. A temporary arrangement with no regrets. Yet one emotion had refused to be bludgeoned into submission. This man, her lover, who was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside, had made her feel something she'd never thought she'd feel again toward any man.

Trust.

She trusted him. Completely. When their affair ended, she could at least thank him for restoring her faith in the male species. He'd proven beyond all doubt that not all men were like Todd.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, but his deep, even breathing suggested that he'd dozed off. Besides, the mundane-mainly the need for food and drink-was intruding. Moving carefully so as not to wake him, Melanie scooted to the edge of the bed. She stood, stretched, and suppressed a groan.

Muscles she hadn't made use of in a long time tingled. A warm tenderness throbbed between her legs, and when she recalled the reason, a blush washed over her entire body. It amazed her that she still could blush. Heaven knew she didn't have any modesty left.

Instead of bothering with the wrinkled, lumpy mess that constituted her clothes, she opened Chris's closet and pulled out one of his dress shirts. Slipping it on, she made her way to the kitchen. The first thing she did was call home so Nana wouldn't worry. The answering machine picked up, which meant Nana was no doubt with Bernie. After leaving a message saying where she was and not to expect her anytime soon, Melanie opened the refrigerator.

True to bachelor form, there wasn't a whole lot on the shelves, but at least nothing appeared to fall into the science-experiment category. Humming softly, she set about preparing breakfast, her hands automatically chopping peppers and whisking eggs while her mind and her heart commenced a heated argument with each other.

Well, that was certainly a great evening, her mind commented. Great idea, using him for sex. Couldn't have picked a better lover. Hey, heart! You stayed in the other room, right?

Her heart pumped with indignation. No, I did not stay in the other room. I was right there, the whole time. Falling more and more in l-

Whoa! Hold it right there! mind interrupted. Don't even think of saying that. We had a deal. This is my gig. You're not supposed to be involved.

Too bad, said heart. I'm involved. Big time.

Mind rolled its eyes. Oh, that's just great. Well, I suggest you UN-involve yourself. Right now. Before you get hurt. Chris is a great guy, but you know he's not looking to settle down. He wants to lead the bachelor life. Besides, look what happened the last time you got all mushy. You broke into a thousand pieces. Why don't you just take a nice, relaxing vacation and leave Chris to me.

Heart shook its head. It's too late.

No! Mind yelled. It's never too late. You don't want a serious relationship anyway. I'm not going to let you ruin my fun! Go away!

I wish I could, said heart. Dear God, I wish I could.

Pull yourself together and just do it.

I'll try.

Atta girl.

Strong arms encircled her waist from behind, jerking her from her reverie.

'It sure smells good in here,' Chris said, nuzzling the back of her neck with warm lips. 'Whatcha' cookin'?'

A parade of tingles marched down her spine. 'Your cupboard was sort of bare-'

'I am a bachelor, you know,' he broke in, kissing the sensitive skin behind her ear.

Mind stuck out its tongue at heart and said, Nah, nah, told ya.

Melanie shook her head to shut mind up. 'What we have here is my version of huevos rancheros.'

'Wow. I love it when you talk French.'

Melanie giggled. 'That was Spanish.'

He turned her around and laid one of those toe-curling, knee-weakening, slow, deep kisses on her.

'How long before breakfast is ready?' he asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

'Why?'

He rubbed himself against her and Melanie realized he was naked. And fully aroused.

'Why do you think?' he asked.

Laughter bubbled up in her throat. 'You can't be serious.'

He leaned back and looked pointedly downward. 'Do I look like I'm joking?' He started unbuttoning her shirt.

Melanie peeked down and gulped. Holy smokes. He was serious. 'I thought you were hungry.'

The shirt hit the floor. He bent his head and fastened his lips on her nipple. 'I'm starved,' he murmured.

The spatula slipped from Melanie's fingers and clattered on the ceramic tile floor. She somehow had the presence of mind to reach behind her and turn down the stove before he scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom and gently deposited her on the rumpled sheets.

'I woke up and you were gone,' he said, kneeling between her splayed thighs. He ran a single finger between her breasts down to her navel. 'I missed you.'

Melanie watched him, her heart speeding up as his finger continued on its lazy journey and played with the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.