The kitchen was sweltering, even with the ovens off. The bar staff had all gone and only the two of them remained.

He watched as she stood over the sink of steaming water. Her hair clung in wet tendrils, drops sliding down her elegant neck to be absorbed by the cotton of her vest top.

Hardening, he imagined her front view, moisture gathering in her deep cleavage, damp fabric persuading her nipples to tighten despite the warmth.

In a few steps, he was behind her, firm against her willing body. Sliding his eager tongue over her damp collarbone, he whispered, “You haven’t eaten. Do you fancy an extra sausage?”