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this one.
    On opening the door he was flooded with an unusual wave of relief as he heard Taryn humming in the kitchen.
    “Don’t look,” she called out with childish glee. “I’m trying something new.”
    “Well, it certainly smells good.”
    “I hope you didn’t eat yet.”
    “Of course not. It’s only six-thirty.”
    “I went to the wine store you brought me to,” she said as she emerged from the kitchen and met him in the living area. She offered him a glass of red wine. “I thought you might like this one; Chateau du Pape. .”
    He took a sip, rolled it around in his mouth a moment then swallowed. “A very good choice. And what will you be serving with it?” He looked her over, taking in her casual and relaxed attire that suited her to perfection.
    At the institute, students were asked to wear a white chef’s jacket to every class; an overcoat that hid any attribution a young woman might have. It pleasured him to now see Taryn in snug yoga pants and a teal tank top that hugged her breasts in a full, well-rounded manner. Her long blond hair was pulled off her face in a neat ponytail. Without a trace of make-up, her face was the picture of clean, fresh beauty. She was breathtaking, a natural beauty, who didn’t seem to know how gorgeous she was.
    “I had an idea for a hot and spicy take on a rack of lamb,” she called over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.
    “Are my classes already inspiring you?” He absent-mindedly rolled the wine around in the glass while his eyes remained steadfastly on her exiting buttocks…perfectly round, soft, and tight. He felt his jeans tightening in front as he imagined running his hands over them, grabbing them and holding them while he rammed hard into her.
    “Actually it’s Henri who gave me the idea… you know, the guy I paired up with.”
    Errol frowned and set the glass of wine on the table. With an unhappy pout pursing his lips, he cracked his knuckles.
    “You know, he first gives the impression of being some country bumpkin who doesn’t know squat about haute cuisine , or any cuisine for that matter, but, when you take a minute to talk to him, he really knows what he’s talking about.”
    “That’s nice,” Errol muttered.
    “Dinner should be ready in fifteen minutes.”
    “I’ll hop into the shower then.”
    “Perfect.”
    Under the hot running water, Errol tried to scrub off the uneasy sense of insecurity that engulfed him.
    He closed his eyes and imagined her, nude, her firm breasts glowing under thick, creamy lather. Droplets trickled down to her navel and onward between her thighs. A thin line of fine blond hair indicated the heated passage he longed to lose himself in.
    There was something fiery about her; something hidden behind the innocent, wide eyes. He’d seen it in her frown when he’d released her that first night; the wanting; the desire. Her delicious lips had remained parted in hunger long after he’d left her side.
    As he lathered his torso, his hand brushed against the hard-on that cried out for release. Tempted to take a firm grip, to envision Taryn’s body against his as he pumped out his need to touch her again, he reached for the faucet and cooled the water.
    When his body had thoroughly chilled, he shut the water and patted himself dry. As he returned to his room to dress, he debated whether to dress like the professional he was or to entice Taryn with something more alluring; snug but casual sweatpants that hung low on his hips.
    Enticement won.
    He looked at his nude torso and imagined her lips on his skin, her tongue licking every ridge of his stomach and while heading down to take him into her mouth. His penis hardened thinking how she would first suck shyly and then hard, vigorously, running her teeth over his sensitive tip. “God, I want you bad,” he groaned as he pulled a tight white t-shirt over his head. “I’ve waited long enough.”
    “Perfect timing,” Taryn exclaimed as he entered the dining