Forbidden Desires

Forbidden Desires

We all have secret desires that we hide. Fantasies we imagine in the dark. Cravings we want to indulge in. And oh! How sweet they are when they’re forbidden …

What would you do if your unknown desires were awakened by two waiters in a restaurant? In public? Would you give in?

Read what happens to the main character, Becca, from Wild Flower when she’s ditched at Flambé and left in the oh-so-capable hands of waiters Archer and Finn …

Excerpt from Wild Flower

Archer’s POV

“This is called The Devil’s Garden,” Finn explains, his eyes tracing over Becca’s botanical tattoos and realizing how perfect the dessert is for this particular patron. “I hope you’re feeling indulgent, Becca.”

He lifts the bell jar carefully, like a magician doing a trick, and Becca’s eyes are glued on what he is revealing.

The smoke hangs for a moment in the shape of the dome, before feathering outward. Beneath it is a sculpted rose, created in chocolate by our boss. The smoke lingers on the flower like a Halloween fog, softly dissipating as the broad petals come into view. At the base, surrounding the bloom is a bed of chocolate decadence: cocoa powder, truffles, fudge, a chocolate syrup for dipping the ripe poached cherries at the center of the flower. The naughty part of my brain wants to dip Becca’s fingers into that bath of dark and suck off the delicious syrup, making her feel how talented my tongue can be.

“That’s too beautiful to eat,” Becca whispers in awe. I knew this would be the dessert for a girl who loves flowers.

“It’s the beautiful things that taste the best,” Finn says smoothly, leaning in and plucking one of the outer petals from the rose. He dips it in the cocoa glaze, then offers it to Becca’s luscious mouth. “May I?”

Becca eyes the fragile curl of chocolate, then the golden man offering to feed her.

She’s hesitant, that pinch of uncertainty knotting in her chest. Is it too risqué to let one of Flambé’s waiters feed her?

“Indulge,” I whisper, tracing my fingers up her inner arm, caressing the soft skin as my fingertips dance toward her elbow.

She shivers again, eyes flicking briefly to me.

“Give in to the experience,” I coax, and her eyes darken.

She turns her attention to Finn and opens her mouth, inviting the communion of the chocolate petal. Becca’s lips momentarily clasp around Finn’s fingers as he slides the petal into the cavern of her mouth. She moans and closes her eyes as the sweetness hits her tongue and a wicked kick of chili powder dusts her palate.

That moan makes me thicken mercilessly, and I’m jealous of Finn’s fingers brushing against her lips, grazing their plumpness as she tastes the chocolate. A second moan exhales across Finn’s knuckles, ruddy and feverish, and I’m too far away. Sitting on the opposite side of the table is not going to work, especially with Finn’s finger caressing her lip.

I let go of Becca’s wrist and slide along the inside of the U-shaped seat, the velvet friction of the booth heating me. Becca sighs, aware of my proximity, but fiendishly keeping her eyes closed.

Slowly, I pull the curtain of her hair off her shoulders, exposing her neck. Her skin is a canvass on this side as well, the strapless corset showing off her shoulders and a new posy of ink. I don’t know what these flower tattoos are, but they bud and threaten to open at the end of their stems.

Her breath heaves as I inspect her tattoos, the yellow flower across her chest rising and falling as she swallows the chocolate, her lips idling against Finn’s fingers.

“Becca,” I whisper, edging my mouth across the shell of her ear, “may I touch you?”