Page 54 of Dessert Flirt Repeat
That thought makes my nipples go hard. I cross my arms over my chest.
He clears his throat and blinks away that dazed look. “Dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?”
That low rumble betrays the reined-in look on his face. Gage was definitely thinking about my nipples. And that thought makes my entire body go hot.
“I’m starving,” I rasp.
Minutes later I’m sitting at the kitchen island while Gage dishes up the food. He sets an impeccably plated dinner in front of me: a trio of medium rare lamb chops with a pile of roasted potatoes on top of a pool of gravy.
“This looks incredible.” I gaze down at the small sprig of mint that sits atop the lamb. When he spins around to me, I smile at him. “Even the smallest detail on the plate is flawless.” I tap the mint with my fork. “You’re so talented, Gage.”
A flustered smile pulls at his lips as his cheeks flush pink. “Thanks.”
A roaring sound rips from my stomach. Gage’s eyes go wide. I shrug. “I guess I’m pretty hungry.”
We both laugh. I can feel the tension from all that nipple talk from minutes ago dissipate.
He sits down next to me with his own perfectly plated dinner.
“Just warning you, I haven’t eaten much today in preparation for your gourmet dinner,” I say, picking up my knife and fork. “I’m going to inhale this. Don’t judge me.”
He chuckles. “We’ll see. That first bite determines everything. You won’t inhale it if it doesn’t taste good.”
I tilt my head at him. “Just smelling this dish has me drooling. There’s zero chance it will taste anything less than amazing.”
I slice a chunk of the perfectly pink lamb, spear it with my fork along with a slice of potato, and drag it through the gravy. When I pop it in my mouth, I moan. It’s an explosion on my tongue. The fat and salt of the lamb, the buttery starch of the potato, the smoothness of the gravy—even the bit of mint is perfect. The sharpness and freshness of the herb are the perfect complement to this rich bite of food.
My eyes roll back, and my head dips. I cover my mouth with my hand as I chew, moaning the entire time.
“Oh. My. Freaking. God. Gage!”
I turn to him and see him smiling as he chews. “It’s good then?”
I shake my head. “Good is not a sufficient word. We need a new word to describe the deliciousness of this meal.”
I rip a hunk of the sourdough bread loaf sitting on a plate between us and dip it in the small plate of olive oil, roasted garlic, and herbs that Gage prepared.
I make an “mmm” noise that echoes through the apartment.
“Okay, that’s the best bread I’ve ever had, hands down.”
“Really?”
I nod at Gage with wide eyes to convey just how good it is. “Yes, really.”
I dive back into the meal like a shark in the middle of a feeding frenzy. The flavors are so perfect, so well balanced, and I can’t get enough of everything.
By the time I finish, Gage is only halfway done with his dinner.
“Whoa.” He chews quickly and dabs at his mouth. “You ate that impressively fast.”
“Never question my speed when I’m hungry.”
He holds up a hand, laughing. “Noted.”
I lean back on the barstool, shaking my head in disbelief. I’m in some post-meal daze that only comes when you’ve had a perfect meal.
I down the rest of the wine in my glass. “That was orgasmic.”
