Filthy Secret

At the mention of their renowned chef cousin, Frankie’s voice grew relieved. “If it’s that one with the pancetta and sun-dried tomatoes and olives, I can personally vouch for the fact that it’s guaranteed to get a man into bed.”

Jo laughed. “Well, at least it’s been field tested.”

“Go,” Frankie said. “Have fun tonight. And use condoms! No throwing caution that far to the wind.”

Oh, for the love of… “I’m not stupid,” Jo said, rolling her eyes. Fine. So she’d picked up condoms today, too. A girl could never be too prepared. “Also, I’m never telling you anything again. Ever.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Good luck with that.” After one last laugh, Frankie disconnected the call, leaving Jo to baby-step through the video instructions her cousin had sent her to get this dinner together. She managed without botching things too horribly, and by the time things were well underway, she didn’t have time to worry about what might happen tonight, because Sawyer was buzzing up from downstairs.

“Hey,” he said a minute later as he arrived at the door to her apartment, Jo’s heart kicking out a steady stream of yes-yes-yes at the sight of him in a black leather jacket and pair of perfectly battered jeans.

“Oh, you smell good,” she blurted as he leaned in to kiss her cheek, his ensuing laugh rumbling past her ear.

“I ran home to shower after my day shift. But I don’t smell nearly as good as this apartment.” His eyes darted to the kitchen with curiosity. “Have you been holding out on me, Rossi? Because I can always use talent in my kitchen.”

Jo snorted, and so much for being seductive. “Hardly. But, luckily for you, I can follow step-by-step recipe instructions like a boss.”

They moved into the kitchen, which was the size of a postcard, and Sawyer held up a bottle of wine. “I took a flyer and figured merlot would

work,” he said, gesturing to the glass-doored cabinet where a few wine glasses stood.

A prickle went through her that he’d remembered her order from last week, and she smiled. “Thanks.”

Sawyer shrugged out of his jacket, revealing a snug, long-sleeved gray T-shirt that worshipped his muscles. Placing the bottle on the counter, he pushed up his sleeves and grabbed the corkscrew Jo passed over, his forearms flexing and releasing in even pulls as he opened the wine, and the neglected spot between her legs ached with every move.

She bit her bottom lip, hard. “So!” she chirped, and oh, God, was it possible to actually expire from horniness? “Dinner is pretty much ready, so…”

“Great.” Sawyer waited for her to dish up two portions of the pasta- which actually did smell pretty divine, if she did say so herself-then brought the two glasses of wine he’d poured to the small, two-person breakfast table tucked beneath the window. The nerves that had taken up residence in her belly eased as he took a bite of the pasta and his eyes drifted shut with a smile.

“You have been holding out on me,” he said. “This is delicious.”

Jo laughed, taking a bite, then another, before saying, “It really could’ve gone either way.”

“Well, I’m glad it went this way.” They ate for a few more minutes, then he asked, “So, how was today? Did you get a lot done with your audition prep?”

Annnd just like that, Jo’s appetite pulled a Houdini. “I’ve got most of the lines down,” she said, trailing her fork through the pasta on her plate.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Sawyer asked.

“Yes,” she meant to say, then drop the subject like a flaming-hot potato. But what came out was, “It would be, but I’m struggling with the script even though I’ve got it nearly memorized.”

Sawyer tilted his head. “Is there something specific tripping you up?”

“I’m not sure.” But rather than go the cautious route and clam up over her feelings, Jo found herself letting them pour right out.

“I dug into the lines really hard this week, getting a handle on the characters and how they’re meant to be portrayed.” She’d done the exact same thing for the Way Back When audition, studying not just her role, but those of the other leads as well, to better portray her own character’s feelings. “The role I’m auditioning for is really nuanced. Every time I read the script I uncover a different way the character might be portrayed. She’s just so complex. I don’t”-Jo paused, but, God, she was so tired of holding back-“I don’t know if I can do this.”

For a minute, Sawyer said nothing, the silence expanding into the space between them. Then he pinned her with a stare so intense, her heart began to pound.

“You’ve been taking risks with me all week, right?” he asked, and Jo had to nod. The ice skating trip hadn’t been their only adventure. They’d gone Go Kart racing, played laser tag, and-in a move that had probably pushed Sawyer’s comfort zone to its limits, too-taken one of those wine and paint classes. Jo had thought she’d be miserable so far out of her comfort zone.

She’d never raced a Go Kart in her life, and holy crap, she was terrible with a paint brush. But she’d ended up having too much fun to care that she might be bad at whatever it was they were doing.

“Yes,” Jo said.

One side of Sawyer’s mouth kicked up. “And none of those have ended in disaster, right?”

“No, but there’s a little more on the line with this audition.”

He considered this, finally nodding. “So, maybe it would help if you did something bigger than Go Kart racing, then.”

“You think I should take a bigger risk?” she asked, her voice dropping to a murmur.

Sawyer didn’t stop holding her gaze, but he didn’t move, either, as he said, “I think life is short. If you want something, even something that scares you a little, then maybe you should go all in and take it.”

Jo knew he meant the role. After all, he’d been encouraging her from the start, taking her just far enough out of her comfort zone to give her the confidence she needed. But right now, she wasn’t thinking about the role, or about anything other than the intensity in Sawyer’s dark-brown eyes.

Go all in and take it.

Without realizing she would, Jo pushed to her feet and stepped toward him. He stood, too, and her pulse quickened in her ears. But as bold as seducing Sawyer might be, it didn’t feel risky or scary or dangerous.

It just felt right.

“I’m sorry,” Jo whispered, pressing one hand over the flat plane of his chest.

His brows creased, just slightly. “For what?”

“For the fact that your dinner is going to get cold before you can finish it. But I don’t want to wait any more. I want you.”

Sawyer’s heart thumped faster beneath her hand, his stare shuttering as he dropped it to her mouth. “Show me, Jo. Take what you want.” His lips ghosted over hers, barely a touch, but God, she felt it everywhere. “All of it.”

She lifted her mouth to his in a rush. He met her halfway, his lips soft even as the kiss was anything but, and a moan broke free from the back of Jo’s throat.

“Christ, that is hot,” Sawyer said against her mouth, as if he wasn’t quite willing to part from her entirely to speak. The words made her brave, and she arched against him to deepen the kiss. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she held him steady, exploring his mouth with greedy glides of her tongue. She experimented with softer, slower movements, tasting and teasing. Sawyer returned each one, until the want building in Jo’s belly made her break from him on a gasp.

“More. Please,” she said. Her voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to her, so throaty and needful. But Sawyer didn’t hesitate. Sliding one palm against the small of her back and the other over her ass, he pulled her flush. Jo moaned at the unmistakable ridge of his cock between her hips, then moaned again when he thrust against her in a way that-oh, God-left nothing to her imagination.

“More what?” he asked, his voice gravel and sin and every other thing that made Jo want to come right there in her kitchen.

“More you.”