Dating Gentleman Johnny Marcone comes with its ups and downs. Mostly the downs come from the mafia side of his life, and a lot of the ups came from the fact that he had a kitchen stocked with not just a regular chef, but also a pastry chef, saucier and other minions that produce the greatest things I have ever tasted. Ever.
I would have probably declared my love for the entire culinary army if my mouth didn’t spend most of its time being full.
The corners of John’s pale green eyes crinkled in amusement as I took another large bite of dense, dark chocolate cake from the fork he held out in front of me.
I closed my eyes and hummed happily.
John’s fingers against my mouth made my eyes open again.
“Oh, don‘t stop, I‘m thoroughly enjoying the show,” he purred.
I would have protested being objectified like that, but really, why would I want to get in the way of getting more cake?
I swallowed the last of the bite. “I‘m going to marry your chef, I swear it. We‘re running away together at the first opportunity.”
John laughed, a low, deep sound that warmed my stomach in a way that even the cake couldn‘t manage. He held up another forkful. Thick dark chocolate sauce covered the next bite.
“Okay, maybe I‘ll elope with you instead,” I said, eying the cake hungrily. I eagerly opened my mouth.