Page 113 of Delicious (Delicious #1)
Chapter Two
Adler
I t was probably weird that my ultimate fantasy was to have Niccolò de Rosa berate the shit out of me until I came, but when had that ever stopped a kink from being appealing? Part of my sexual awakening had been watching him insult chefs on TV, so it was hardly surprising when you thought about it.
That’s why growing Sweet Heat to where Niccolò insulted my show on the internet was one of the best days of my life. Getting the older chef to appear on it was always a pipe dream. But somehow, he was now standing in front of me, wearing tight jeans and a tighter black T-shirt that showed off his impressive biceps and incredible forearms. What a pleasant way to discover he was even more fuckable in person than on TV. Delicious . And my god, did he smell good.
I did my best to stay professional despite my inner fanboy squealing like a delighted little pig as I shook his hand. “Thanks for agreeing to be on my show.”
His larger hand holding mine filled me with inappropriate thoughts about the other parts of me I wanted him to touch, but I tried to distract myself. I’d never make it through filming without coming in my pants if I didn’t check myself.
It was easier said than done when his baritone Italian accent turned me into a puddle. “I’m amazed you want me here at all, considering the things I’ve said about you online.”
“Oh, please. Who wouldn’t want to be called a culinary criminal by their idol?” I asked with a laugh. “Feel free to spend the entire time insulting me. I live for that shit. In fact, I insist on it.”
One of his delicate eyebrows arched in surprise, and goddamn, was that even sexier in person. It was a panties-go- poof moment if I had ever seen one. Except it was more boxers-go- boom in my case. “I’m surprised a sadist like you has such a masochistic tendency.”
“Only with you.” I gave him a winsome smile. “As long as you can take the heat of what I throw back at you, come at me as hard as you want.”
“I can handle the heat just fine,” he rumbled, and ohhhh , the things it did to me. It was like he lit the fuse on the firecracker in my pants that was already waiting to explode. I’d have to pace myself if I wanted to survive the experience without embarrassing myself.
I flashed a cocky grin. “Good, because I’m looking forward to making you sweat and beg for mercy.”
His deep chuckle sent a shiver through me. It almost distracted me from imagining him working up a sweat while fucking me hard. Almost .
Shit, was there something in his woodsy cologne that was making me hornier than a submarine full of sailors on day eighty-nine at sea?
Or maybe it was his chiseled cheekbones and dark hair that fell in front of his mischievous golden eyes?
It probably had more to do with the fact I’d been dreaming about him fucking me, even when it would have been illegal because I was a teenager with a celebrity crush on him.
Yeah, definitely that. Fuck .
I cleared my throat, doing my best to push aside the inappropriately sexy thoughts he stirred up within me. “If you could take a seat, we can get started. I’m assuming Zazie caught you up to speed on what we do here.”
“She did. But I’ve also watched the show before.”
Well, damned if that tidbit of knowledge didn’t stroke my ego right to the edge of completion.
When we were both seated, I nodded to Roland to record. I didn’t want to miss a single second of the experience for my private archives. “Thank you for joining me on today’s very special episode of Sweet Heat ,” I addressed the camera in my professional tone, slipping into the familiar persona I had crafted over the past four years of doing the show. “For once, I won’t be the only one bringing the heat. Chef Niccolò de Rosa is answering all our prayers and making our dreams come true by being here today. Thanks for coming, Chef. It’s a genuine pleasure.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “I’d say the same if you weren’t about to murder my taste buds in payback for all the shit I’ve said about you online.”
It was great that he was already leaning into my plans. “I love it. Let’s dive straight into it and go over some of my favorites.” I reached over to pick up my note cards, as if I didn’t have every word he had ever said about me committed to memory. “The first thing you ever posted about me was, ‘If you need a warning label to eat it, then it’s not dessert. It’s assault.’ Which, fair.”
“I stand by that assertion.” His deep chuckle raised chills on my skin. “Especially since you’re about to punch me in the face with your chilis.”
“Oh, we’ll get to that.” I grinned at him with all the sadistic glee I felt. “But first, I want to go over a few more of your excellent reads. ‘That dessert looks like a million bucks but probably tastes like a firefighter’s jockstrap after a twelve-hour shift,’ is certainly an evocative way to describe my Carolina Reaper chocolate truffles.”
“The only fire that dessert brought was the one it should have been thrown into.” The arrogant tilt of his jaw made me want to squirm in my chair. “You committed arson and dared to call it a dessert.”
I snickered at the comment. “So what you’re saying is you’re not looking forward to tasting a dessert that’s the equivalent of licking the surface of the sun?”
“If I wanted to breathe fire, I’d join the fucking circus.”
The setup was too easy. “If I joined, I’d be a sword swallower. I have lots of practice with that.”
I gave myself a point when both of his eyebrows arched up in surprise. But the challenging gleam in his eyes sparked excitement and arousal in equal parts. “It’s good to know you have other talents besides feeding celebrities desserts that are spicy enough to strip the paint off cars.”
I laughed hard, feeling the exhilarating rush of bantering with Niccolò. “If you survive, maybe I’ll show you some of those other talents off camera.” I set the cards aside, ready to move on to the fun. “Now, regular viewers of this show know this is the part where I show five desserts that bring the sweet heat for our guest to admire before we eat them together while we talk. But Chef Niccolò de Rosa isn’t just any guest. He’s a three-Michelin-star chef, which means today, we’ll be doing something a little different.”
Niccolò watched me warily as I stood up. “Oh, what fresh hell have you come up with now?”
I couldn’t keep my excitement out of my voice. “Here’s the thing. When you say things like, ‘That dessert looks like a million bucks but probably tastes like a firefighter’s jockstrap after a twelve-hour shift,’ it makes me realize that your critical gaze will make assumptions about the dessert before you ever put it in your mouth.”
“You don’t just eat with your mouth, darling,” he said with the condescending Italian drawl that made my dick hard, especially when combined with the term of endearment. “If you’re not engaging all your senses, you’re not doing it right.”
“True, but in honor of your amazing show, Under Pressure , I have a different idea in mind for someone as special as you.” I held my hand out, and Roland placed a black cloth in my hands while staying off camera. “After all, you’re notorious for your tough blind tastings.”
“You’re blindfolding me?” Niccolò demanded, his expression incredulous.
I walked behind him, grateful for our higher chairs with low backs. With great relish, I made a show of holding the blindfold out as I pressed against his back, my voice low next to his ear. “I sure am.” My closeness allowed me to feel the shudder that ran through him as my breath brushed over his ear. Interesting .
It was an incredible fantasy to tie the fabric behind his head, wondering if it would look as sensuous on camera as it felt. When I finished, I pressed my lips to his ear again to murmur, “Show me how talented that multimillion-dollar tongue of yours is, Chef.”
His next breath sounded shaky, which made it even more of a struggle not to get hard. But his voice was full of challenge. “Are we filming Sweet Heat or Fifty Shades of Flambé food porn?”
“A BDSM love story in Scoville units? I’m into it.” I forced myself to stay focused as Roland slid the tray of my five desserts close enough for me to reach. “But let’s see if you survive the gauntlet first.”
I picked up the spoon with a bite-sized piece of sriracha honey cheesecake. “Since this is a true blind tasting, I’ll be giving you helpful hints about what you’re eating as you try to guess what dessert I’ve given you, along with the SHU, which stands for Scoville heat units, the measurement of the spiciness or heat level of chili peppers. The Scoville scale determines how much capsaicin is present in a pepper. The higher the SHU, the hotter the pepper. Got it?”
“Sure.”
“This first one is about 4,000 SHU to start you off easy. It tastes like a baby dragon just learned how to sneeze.”
His unrestrained laughter made my stomach flip like an upside-down pineapple cake. “ That’s what you call a helpful hint?”
“Tell me if you disagree.” I placed the spoon on his lower lip, watching as he opened his mouth enough to let me slide it in. It was stunningly sexy to watch him tasting it as his expert tongue tried to make sense of what I had given him. What I wouldn’t give to have him use that same talented tongue on me…
“I’m almost disappointed. I’ve had more heat from a lukewarm cappuccino,” he said with that cocky attitude that got me every time.
“Well, like all good things, it’s better to start slow and then turn up the heat. Don’t you agree?”
His sexy little smirk that close was almost blindingly beautiful. “I’m merely saying I’ve had hotter kisses than that.”
Oh, if he wanted to play, I was fucking game.