Chapter 52: Death Threat

Naomi shrugged immediately. "Fine." She slid her plate toward him and pulled his toward herself.

Dorian stared at the new plate in front of him. This had not helped. If anything, he now felt less certain.

Naomi picked up her fork and began cutting into the steak as though nothing unusual had happened.

Dorian watched her. He looked at the food again. "You spat in the food, didn’t you?"

"Why would I do that? I am a professional chef."

Dorian considered the logic.

Fair.

There were probably professional standards against spitting into your husband’s dinner, even when said husband had deliberately denied you an orgasm less than an hour earlier.

He relaxed slightly and picked up his fork again. He stabbed one of the roasted potatoes and lifted it.

Naomi took a sip of wine. "I have professional ways to torture people with food."

Dorian froze. The potato remained suspended in front of him. He slowly lowered the fork. "What did you do?"

"maybe you should stop annoying the person responsible for your meals."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Yes, you did," Naomi said sweetly.

"So why are you messing with my head?"

"I am doing no such thing. I’m just making conversation." She shrugged and calmly reached for her wine.

Dorian pushed his stool back and stood. Her eyes immediately dropped to the movement. There was something about the way he straightened, six feet plus of irritated Dorian Heathcliffe moving toward her still had a way of making a woman reconsider her commitment to the joke. He planted both hands against the island and looked at her.

"You tell me what you did to the food right now."

Naomi’s lips twitched. "Nothing."

"Naomi."

"I didn’t do anything."

Dorian started around the island. That was when Naomi very carefully slid off her stool. She took one step backward. He followed. "God fucking dammit, Naomi!" He lunged for her.

Naomi squealed and darted sideways before his hands could close around her. He missed her by inches. She burst out laughing.

He reached down, picked up one of the roasted potatoes from his plate and held it between his fingers. He started toward her again.

Naomi immediately moved.

"Come here."

"No."

"Come here and eat this."

"You eat it."

Dorian made another grab for her. She slipped around the corner of the island just before he reached her. "Naomi Bennett, you come here and have a taste of this right fucking now!"

She folded her arms. "You have yours, I have mine. Why would I?"

The second he moved, she bolted. She almost made it but he caught her around the waist before she could clear the end of the island.

Naomi shrieked with laughter as he pulled her back. "No! Dorian! I didn’t do anything!"

"Excellent. Then this should be perfectly safe."

She twisted in his arms, trying to escape while laughing so hard she had absolutely no strength behind it.

Dorian turned her and pinned her against the island with his body, blocking every possible escape route.

Naomi pushed against his chest. "You psycho!"

Dorian brought the potato toward her mouth. She clamped her lips shut. His brows rose. "Open."

She shook her head furiously.

"Naomi."

She kept her mouth closed. He squeezed her cheeks lightly until her lips parted from laughter, then pushed the potato between her teeth. She immediately tried to spit it back out.

"Oh, no you don’t." He covered her mouth with his palm.

Her eyes widened with outrage while laughter continued shaking her entire body. The potato slipped properly into her mouth.

"Chew! Come on!"

"Hmmmmmm..." Her muffled protest vibrated against his hand.

"Chew or I will shove all of the damned food down your throat." He waited until she finally started chewing before removing his palm.

"I didn’t do anything. I was just messing with you."

"You! You..." Dorian pointed at her. "I swear to God!"

Naomi finished chewing the potato. "See how it feels when someone messes with you?"

"That’s hardly the same thing."

"Yeah, right." She smiled and became aware of his body first.

He was still pressed against her, close enough that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest. One of his hands remained beside her on the island while the other rested near her waist, and somewhere during their ridiculous struggle, her hands had ended up against him too.

Her smile faded slowly. The amusement in his eyes changed. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. This time, she made the move. She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down to her.

Dorian barely had time to register the movement before Naomi’s mouth crashed into his. She kissed him like she had something to prove.

Maybe she did. Maybe she simply wanted him badly enough that pretending otherwise had finally become more exhausting than admitting it.

Whatever the reason, Dorian didn’t care. His hand immediately caught her waist as he kissed her back.

Naomi had taken charge, but Dorian met her with enough force to make the whole thing feel like two equally stubborn people colliding. Her back pressed into the island.

His body followed. Neither of them remembered dinner existed. Dorian was already sinking. He knew it.

Some small, irritatingly responsible part of his brain was still waving a hand from somewhere in the distance, reminding him about the contract, the no-sex clause and their very recent agreement to remain friends.

That part of his brain was becoming increasingly easy to ignore. She kissed him deeper. Her hands moved from his collar to the buttons of his shirt.

She worked quickly, fingers fumbling because neither of them seemed interested in slowing down enough to make anything easy.

The last button came free. He knew there was no coming back from this as she shoved the shirt away from his chest.

Dorian shrugged it off completely, letting it fall. Her palms moved over his bare skin. His breath changed at the contact as he reached for her dress.

Naomi lifted her arms. He pulled the dress over her head. Their mouths separated for barely a few seconds. She tossed the fabric aside and reached for him again.

It felt magnetic. Dorian came back to her at the exact same moment. Their mouths met harder this time, urgency replacing restraint.

Everything happened too quickly.

Hands moved.

Bodies pressed together. There was too much tension between them. Too much need. Too much of everything they had spent days pretending wasn’t there.

Vegas had been easy to dismiss because they had been strangers. Drunk strangers, at that. This wasn’t Vegas.

They knew each other now. This should have been harder to excuse. So naturally, they came up with an excuse anyway.

Romance wasn’t involved. This was physical. That was all. Two people who already knew they wanted each other deciding there was no point pretending otherwise.

Strangers who once fucked. Friends that kissed. And now, apparently, friends that fucked again.

Perfectly uncomplicated.

At least that was what they were going to tell themselves. Dorian slipped his fingers inside her underwear to find her wet and wanting.

Naomi broke the kiss first, breathless and impatient enough that Dorian barely had time to register the loss of her mouth before she spoke. "No... no. Just fuck me."