Page 6 of Matched with the Small Town Chef
My nails dig into his shoulders as my body arches to take him deeper. Each powerful thrust pushes me closer to the edge, the wooden bench creaking beneath us with the force of our movements. One hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise while the other tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat to his mouth.
The workbench creaks beneath us, herbs releasing their scent as we disturb them. Rosemary, basil, something citrusy – a heady backdrop to the more primal scents of rain, sex, and sweat.
He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly I'm climbing rapidly toward a peak I hadn't expected to reach so quickly. He must feel it in the way I tighten around him, because his movements grow more focused, deliberate. His eyes hold mine, refusing to let me look away as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity.
The tension coils tighter, reaches breaking point. When it snaps, pleasure crashes through me in waves that steal my breath and vision. My cry mingles with another crack of thunder as my body convulses around him.
He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he drives deep one final time, body shuddering against mine. For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us struggling to catch our breath.
Reality returns slowly. The storm continues around us, but with less fury now, moving past, leaving us in its wake. I become aware of the hardness of the bench beneath me, the cooling sweat on my skin, the absurdity of what we've just done.
He seems to reach the same realization, carefully separating from me and disposing of the condom in a covered bin. We dress in charged silence, stealing glances at each other like teenagers after a first encounter.
"I'm Hunter, by the way." He rebuttons his shirt, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Probably should have mentioned that earlier."
"Audrey." My laughter holds a note of hysteria. "Nice to... meet you."
His gaze drops to my mouth for a beat. Then he steps in close—close enough that his voice can drop into something low and intimate. Just for me.
“Should’ve told you sooner. But then again…” He leans in, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “I was enjoying fucking you too much.”
My breath stutters. Heat slams into me, all over again.
Before I can recover, he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, the grin still tugging at his lips—but now there’s something darker behind it. Honest.
“Jesus, Audrey…” His voice drops, thick with the echo of what just passed between us. “That was so fucking hot.” His gaze flicks to my mouth again, jaw flexing. “You are too fucking hot.”
I should say something witty. Clever. Professional.
But I’m still burning. Still bare beneath my clothes.
“Yeah, well…” I lift my chin, voice unsteady but trying for bravado. “You were pretty spectacular yourself.”
"Good to know." His grin sharpens, and my pulse skips. “I’m not against round two.” He laughs—low and satisfied—like I just confirmed something he already knew.
Round two? Holy granola, I’m not sure if I’ll survive round two.
His phone buzzes, the screen lighting up: KITCHEN – Incoming Call.
The spell wavers—but doesn’t break.
Hunter glances at it, expression shifting to something more guarded. "Hmm, round two will need to wait. I’m sorry, but I need to take this. The storm probably has things in chaos back at the main building."
"You work at the lodge?" My curiosity piques.
"Something like that." He accepts the call, turning slightly away. "How bad is it?"
The rest of his conversation fades into background noise as I try to compose myself, smoothing down my clothing and running fingers through my tangled hair.
I straighten my clothes, running fingers through tangled hair. The lights flicker once, twice, then hum back to life, exposing the evidence of our encounter – disturbed plants, scattered candles, my flushed face.
"I have to go." Hunter ends his call, already moving toward the door. "Power's back, and I need to do chaos control. Half the staff are stuck in town."
"Of course." Relief floods through me that he hasn't made the connection between random tourist and potential reviewer.
"I hope I’ll see you around the lodge?" He pauses at the door, conflict evident in his expression.
"That would be nice."
