Free Taste It by Sommer Marsden Page A

forth and back and forth. We called in a tie breaker and still it was a difficult decision …’
    She squeezed Cole’s hand so hard she heard him chuckle. He seemed so … calm. That freak!
    ‘And still the battle raged on,’ Kat Stephens said, clearly loving the suspenseful moment and relishing their discomfort. ‘Simple alligator meat elevated to something sophisticated in a lovely creamy sauce or down home perfection with fried ’gator and all the fixins?’
    ‘We never thought we’d finish deliberation,’ Kat went on, milking the moment for all it was worth.
    Jill had a brief but vivid fantasy of tackling the woman and pulling her hair.
    ‘But finally, we did. And the judges finally agreed that we had only one option.’
    She squeezed Cole’s hand harder still and held her breath and thought she’d hallucinated when Kat said, ‘There is the first ever tie of Best Chef. Congratulations, Chefs. You are both the best chef.’
    The confetti fell and when Cole grabbed her up in the thickly muscled cage of his arms, she never thought she’d stop shaking. Her whole body trembled with it. They’d both won. Together. They’d both proven what needed to be proven and they’d both succeeded. 
    He kissed her and that was the cherry on the sundae. Perfect day. Perfect outcome. Perfect man.

Epilogue

    ‘WE DID IT,’ HE said, running a towel over his short dark hair. 
    ‘We did.’ Jill put her clothes in a single dresser. They’d immediately checked out of the suites provided by Best Chef and travelled across town to a swanky suite that was pretty and luxurious and very high up on a top floor. Jill felt like they were tucked away in a secret tower and nothing else mattered but them. 
    There was still stuff in DC to do for the show. Appearances and cooking demos and morning shows awaited them but the night was theirs.
    Cole came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms. He walked her one stutter step at a time to the sizeable kitchenette. There was a congratulatory basket on the counter from the judging committee of Best Chef.
    ‘Order in or make our own dinner?’ he asked, pressing his lips to her neck. Kissing her gently on the thin skin above her thrumming pulse. 
    ‘I say order in. I don’t think I want to cook for a week,’ she said. 
    He palmed her breasts through the lush white robe provided by the hotel. When that wasn’t enough, he pushed his fingers below the lapels and stroked her warm, bare skin. It made her breath hurry out of her and her nipples peak into hard rosy points.
    ‘I saw a nice Porterhouse and crab cake combo on the menu. We could order wine and some fresh veg and maybe a chocolate cake with raspberries and whipped cream.’ He was creating food lust with his verbal food foreplay.
    She hummed low in her throat. 
    ‘Sounds great.’
    ‘But first, we have something to take care of in here.’
    ‘We do? What?’
    Cole opened one of the kitchenette drawers and pulled out a wire whisk. The kitchen was all white. Wood and tile and nice clean counters. A small dinette set sat in one corner consisting of two red leather and chrome chairs and a Formica topped chrome table. ‘You were bad,’ he said very softly.
    Her skin pebbled with goose bumps and her heart twisted a little. But her pussy, oh her pussy, responded with glee at the soft and menacing words.
    ‘I was?’ Jill barely managed to force the words out.
    ‘You were. You almost threw that competition. Didn’t you?’ His blue eyes behind his black framed glasses bored into her as he turned her to face him. Cole’s jaw was set and he didn’t look angry but he did look … intense.
    ‘Maybe a little.’
    He pushed the lapels apart further and took her breasts in his hand. The cool metal of the whisk kissed her skin because he held it loosely in one hand. When he bent to suckle one nipple and then nibble the other, she gasped. Her hips shot forward on their own, seeking him out. Wanting him.
    ‘That was bad.’
    ‘It