for dinner tonight. There are about a hundred forty chickens over here that need cooked and boned.”
Olivier leans over and whispers in my ear. “You didn’t tell me this would be so dirty.”
“I taped instructions to the cabinet beside the stove,” Marla says. “And you can use one of the wheeled carts to move the chickens into the cooking area of the kitchen. Disinfect all surfaces after. There’s cleaner by the sink in the kitchen. Any questions, just find me.”
“Got it,” I say, nodding.
Marla leaves us alone in the walk-in and Olivier leans down and gives me a quick, soft kiss.
“You ever done this before?” he asks.
“Cooking and boning chickens? I can’t say I have.”
“I helped my mom in the kitchen, but never with this part. I guess we’ll both learn something new today.”
We start loading chickens onto a cart, and I feel Olivier’s gaze on me as we work. Like always, it makes me warm all over. I’m wishing he’d push me up against a wall and fuck my brains out right now, even though I know we can’t actually do that.
At least, not here and not now.
I finish wiping down the last counter and drop my towel into the dirty laundry bin, peeking around the corner to see what Olivier is up to. It looks like he’s still talking to Marla and Reese, who are telling him about their budgets and needs.
He glances up and meets my gaze, a smile tugging on his lips as he excuses himself.
“Sorry I didn’t get to help you finish cleaning up,” he says as he approaches me.
“It’s okay. You did most of the chicken grossness, so let’s call it even.”
It turns out that pulling meat from the bones of a chicken is a hot, sometimes slimy job. I was much slower at it than Olivier. For as much as I’ve thought of him as a member of the elite, he’s actually a hard worker, and he’s efficient.
“I may smell like chicken for the next decade or so,” he says, smelling his hands. “I’ve washed my hands several times since we finished, but it’s still there.”
“We contributed chicken to more than three hundred potpies, though.”
“We did.”
There’s a tightness in my stomach as he steps closer to me, putting his hands on my hips. I put an arm around his neck and run my fingers up into his hair, setting my other palm on his chest. I may not know what I want overall, but I know what I want in this moment.
“I have a couple hours until I have to get ready to go babysit,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“I need a shower, but my shower is really big. It’s actually a bit lonely, too.”
I feel him hardening against my lower belly, and suddenly the twenty to thirty minutes it’ll take to get back to my apartment feels like forever.
“Let’s go,” Olivier says, taking my hand and leading the way.
I grab my bag and we say a quick goodbye to everyone we know who’s still at the soup kitchen. Ben is waiting in front of Annie’s Kitchen in a dark SUV, and Olivier and I sneak into the back before he even sees us.
“We’re going to Daphne’s apartment,” Olivier says, taking my hand in his again.
Though we make small talk on the drive there, I know Olivier’s mind is thinking of what’s about to happen, just like I am. As soon as we reach my apartment building, we dash up the stairs and I unlock the door. We hurriedly push inside and I drop my bag on the ground, reaching for Olivier as he slams the door closed and turns the lock.
“I want you so fucking bad,” he says in a low tone. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, his mouth hot and demanding. We pull at each other’s clothes, leaving a trail of shirts, socks, and twisted up pants as we slowly make our way to the bathroom.
“Tell me you brought condoms this time,” I say as Olivier picks me up and sets me on the bathroom counter, tugging my panties off as I lift my hips.
“I did.” He nips at my earlobe and then kisses his way down to my shoulder, taking my bra off and dropping it on the floor.
“These,” he says, cupping my breasts with just enough pressure to make me moan. “I’ve been thinking about these every waking minute, Daph.”
He leans down and takes a nipple between his lips, sucking, nipping and