Page 42

Chapter 42

Sawyer

Her legs shook as she climbed off McCoy. Perspiration dotted her forehead and back, and she hadn’t yet caught her breath. A part of her was still in shock. Never in her life had she achieved an orgasm like that, and in such a short amount of time.

“That was …” She cleared her throat, her legs wobbly as she got off the bed. “Thank you,” she said when it was apparent she was at a loss for any other words.

McCoy smiled, her cheeks flushed and sweaty as well. “Thank you . That was incredible.”

Heat crept up Sawyer’s cheeks, and she was instantly grateful McCoy couldn’t witness how easily embarrassed she was. Leaving her restrained, Sawyer retrieved their wine from the bathroom, taking a generous sip before placing them on the nightstand. She studied McCoy, looking for signs of discomfort or fear, but saw nothing but desire and contentment. And a lightness Sawyer hadn’t ever seen before. It was as if the gravity of the world ceased to exist, and McCoy was floating on a cloud of happiness.

Sawyer would be almost jealous of McCoy’s ability to switch life off if she didn’t also adore every possible thing about her.

She returned to the bed, relishing McCoy’s small gasp when her fingers touched her hot skin. Her legs fell open shamelessly, drawing Sawyer’s attention to her tempting pussy with its tidy patch of hair on the top. Any time she’d dreamt of this moment, something had always woken her up before reaching this point. What if she was terrible at pleasing McCoy? Feigning confidence and tossing words like “fucking” around in conversation was one thing. Doing it, and doing it well, was wholly different.

“Sawyer? Don’t overthink this, okay? You could probably breathe on me right now, and I’d come,” McCoy murmured, although her voice sounded a bit shaky. “Just use your fingers.”

“No.” That just wouldn’t do. Sawyer wanted to give McCoy everything, and that included going out of her comfort zone.

Calisse . Enough with all the pretense.

Taking a deep breath, Sawyer lowered herself between McCoy’s thighs. She held her in place, darting her tongue out for a taste. McCoy cried out, her hips jerking off the bed.

“Wow, you weren’t joking,” Sawyer teased, surprised when a giggle slipped out. She pushed McCoy back down in the bed, adding, “Stay still, darling,”

“Trying,” McCoy panted, writhing as Sawyer licked her again. Her thumb toyed with McCoy’s clit as she worked her over with her tongue. The second Sawyer sunk her finger inside, McCoy cried out as she climaxed.

After, when Sawyer had removed the blindfold and restraints, they cuddled in bed, sharing slow kisses and soft caresses. Once again, Sawyer marveled at the way McCoy looked at her. Even after everything she’d told her that day, after witnessing such a destructive catharsis, McCoy still looked at her like she’d gone and fallen into a bowl of lucky charms. Like Sawyer could rob a casino and McCoy would be waiting outside to be her getaway driver.

How was it real ?

Sawyer didn’t deserve love like this. Did she? Perhaps not, but she wanted it. God, did she ever want it. She wanted McCoy like she’d never wanted any other. She craved McCoy, her touch, her wit, her charm. Sawyer wanted to wake each morning and fall asleep each night wrapped up in McCoy. She wanted to laugh and bicker and fight just to have that epic makeup sex.

More than anything, Sawyer wanted to be who McCoy needed , not just who she thought she wanted. McCoy needed to be dominated, at least part-time. It was who she was, and Sawyer would never ask her to change. But would McCoy be satisfied long-term with what Sawyer could offer? She was no Frankie.

“ You’re exactly what I need. The only one I want.”

McCoy’s earlier declaration returned in Sawyer’s mind, settling her. She sighed, caressing McCoy’s cheek. Her heart fluttered at the obvious love staring back at her.

“ Tu es la femme de mes rêves, ” Sawyer whispered, leaning in to kiss McCoy softly.

“What does that mean?”

Biting her lip, Sawyer blushed a little. “It means, ‘You are the woman of my dreams.’”

McCoy smiled wide enough to show off those damning dimples. Sawyer swore she was half in love with those alone. “You’re getting to be a big softie.”

“Yes, and don’t you speak a word of it,” Sawyer muttered. “I have a reputation, you know.”

“Of course. I would never.” McCoy let out an exaggerated gasp before kissing her deeply. When they broke apart, she said, “I love you, Sawyer.”

Sawyer cleared her throat, glancing away. “Well …” Coughing, feeling like she needed to pull the words from her toes, Sawyer swallowed, murmuring, “What you said before, about me … for you.” Clearing her throat again, Sawyer snatched the last of the wine up and drank it in one gulp. She heaved a sigh. “I can see why you might think so.”

Silence, and then McCoy’s palm was resting on her cheek, tugging Sawyer’s gaze back. Laughter shone in her meadow green depths. “Really. Sawyer Lavoie. You are totally in love with me, aren't you? Told you I’d have you falling at my feet in no time.”

A laugh escaped Sawyer, “Please. If anyone is falling at someone’s feet, darling, it’ll be you.”

She gave McCoy a light shove, only to pull her back in again and place a kiss on her forehead.

Coy winked. “Promises, promises.”

Returning to work after spending almost a full twenty-four hours with McCoy felt like what she imagined coming back from vacation felt like. She was overtired, irritable, and perhaps a tad sulky. Sawyer was woman enough to admit it. Being a respected chef and owning a popular restaurant was incredible—it always had been—but having sex for hours with McCoy, followed by McCoy bringing her breakfast in bed, was nice, too. Real nice.

A bag of potatoes landed with a light thud on the prep table near Sawyer, and Cindy’s face came into view. “You’re in a daze today.”

“Am I?” Sawyer gave herself a mental shake, blowing air out past her lips. She picked up her rolling pin again. “Surely not. I was just thinking of, you know, um, next week’s menu.”

“Uh-huh,” Cindy snickered, giving Sawyer a gentle shoulder check. “I’m happy for you, albeit a bit disappointed Lori and I have yet to officially meet McCoy.”

“Coy,” Sawyer corrected, although the shortened version of McCoy’s name sounded strange on her lips. When Cindy looked at her blankly, she added, “She goes by Coy.”

“But you call her—”

“Cin, listen to me when I’m telling you something. Please.” A laugh slipped out, and Cindy’s eyes widened in surprise. The chatter around the kitchen halted to a stop, and every one of her staff within earshot turned toward them, stunned expressions on their faces.

A blush so deep set Sawyer’s cheeks aflame, and she scowled, “ Calisse . I’m certain you all have better things to do than eavesdrop on my conversation. Retourne au travail .”

“Understood, Chef.”

“Sorry, Chef.”

Barb grinned from where she stood at the stove. “Did all those flowers accomplish that melodic sound?”

“Nah, Barb, I’d say it’s all the orgasms she’s been having,” Cindy said, quick-witted as ever.

“ Vas te faire foutre , both of you,” Sawyer sniped, but she didn’t have it in her to be genuinely upset. God, what was McCoy doing to her? She couldn’t afford to go soft in this business. She’d been carving a name out for herself for too long to allow feelings to cloud her senses.

“Hey, Maman ,” Bree spoke up behind Sawyer, reaching around to plant a kiss on her cheek. Sawyer relaxed into the kindness of her daughter’s gaze. “Don’t be too hard on them. Your not-so-mysterious lover is all anyone can talk about.”

“Ugh, love,” Sawyer groaned. “Not you too.”

Bree laughed.

The next two hours of prep sped by, with Bree and Sawyer working together to make the tourtières . Cindy shadowed Shane as he created his first dish all on his own, and Sawyer found her attention straying to their station often. Cindy was competent in the kitchen, and from everything Sawyer had seen since she’d returned to work, she’d make a good head chef.

Wait, what? Why was she thinking of that? An interim head chef was one thing, but to come on in a full-time, permanent capacity?

What would that mean for Sawyer?

“This is really nice,” Bree said, glancing up at her. She had a spattering of flour decorating her apron and jawline, and perspiration dotted her hairline from the kitchen's warmth.

“What is, love?”

Bree shrugged, a small smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “This. Working with you. Making tourtières and baking pouding ch?meur , butter tarts, tarte au sucre , and everything else. It brings back good memories. I’ve always loved helping you in the kitchen.”

Sawyer hesitated, really considering what Bree might have been saying in between the lines. She’d never asked her if restaurant work could be a serious aspiration. In high school, Bree had mentioned possible careers with a background in social science, and Sawyer had all but thrown her on the plane toward her bright future. Anything to get her away from her father’s toxicity. She’d never wanted Bree to feel trapped in her life like Sawyer so often had.

“You’re not returning to California, are you?”

Everything was so clear now. The school year had already begun. Bree could have left a month ago if she’d wanted. Sawyer was getting by then, and with Cindy’s help, could have successfully managed the restaurant.

Slowly, Bree shook her head. “If it’s alright with you, I’d love to just keep doing this. We work well together, no?”

“We do.” A smile threatened to take over Sawyer’s face. She stared in wonder at her daughter, the purest form of love filling her chest. Before she knew it, she was enveloping Bree in a bear hug and swaying back and forth in the middle of the kitchen. “ Sais-tu à quel point je t'aime, ma chérie ?”

“ Je t’aime, aussi, Maman. Tellement. ” Bree buried her face in Sawyer’s chest. “You know, if Cindy took over all the stressful stuff, with Barb as her sous-chef, you and I could do this every day. You’d still be the boss, right?”

“Technically, no. The executive chef runs the kitchen, mon amour .” That was the problem right now, wasn’t it? Sawyer had dreams of earning another Michelin star, of really putting Desmarais on the map at an international level. If she wasn’t putting every ounce of fiber into the job, could she rely on others to do it for her? It didn’t sit right with Sawyer.

She patted Bree’s head, pushing her away enough to study her face. The eagerness in Bree’s eyes was unmistakable. She wanted this, probably had been dreaming of the day she could get Sawyer’s attention without the restaurant always coming first. God, how many school events had she missed over the years because she was tied up on the hot-line?

“I almost lost you.”

Bree’s words from days after Sawyer’s heart attack plagued her on the best of days. The reality of her mortality was disconcerting. If she died, Bree didn’t even have siblings alive to help her through life. She’d be completely and utterly alone. And so here she was, giving Sawyer a way to let some of the unnecessary stress in her life fall away. And then there was McCoy. Her McCoy. Her lover and friend.

Sawyer knew McCoy would stand by and watch her clock in fourteen-hour days if she chose to, but at what cost? The fact was, she couldn’t work as much as she had pre-heart attack. She physically wasn’t capable. In admitting that, Sawyer could also admit that relinquishing her tight hold on the restaurant didn’t seem as terrifying if she had Bree and McCoy in her life.

“Well, even if Cindy was the executive on paper, everyone knows you’re still the boss, Maman .” Bree grinned and gestured up and down at her. “After all, you’ve got all that boss energy Coy loves so much.”

“Bree.” Sawyer fought back a smile and flicked a light dusting of flour at her daughter. “Think Cindy could earn us another Michelin star?”

“Chef, sorry to interrupt,” Mikey’s voice sounded from behind them. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with a huge grin as he held out a bouquet.

Sawyer inwardly groaned . Seriously, this again?

“You’ve got another delivery from—”

“I know who it’s from, Mikey,” Sawyer cut in, stepping forward to snatch the note from the peg in the middle of the red roses. Straightening to her full height, she narrowed her gaze as, once again, every team member in her kitchen paused to take in the situation. “ Esti . Back to work, people!”

As they all wheeled around again, including Cindy, satisfaction settled over Sawyer. She smiled coyly. Yeah, she was still in control.