Happily Ever After Collection - Melanie Moreland Page 0,9
skin close to her face. She grinned up at me, and her tongue came out and licked its way across my palm, swirling and teasing as she gathered up the sweet goodness. I hissed as she moved onto my fingers, my other hand closing over the top of her leg as she worked her tongue on my skin.
“Julia,” I warned softly.
She drew back. “Rich, dark, and molten, Byron. Not like any chocolate I’ve tasted before.”
I groaned, even as I smiled at her description. I saw her hand move, and then her finger lifted, dripping with the dark, sweet liquid. Slowly, she rubbed it on her lips as she leaned forward, her voice low and pleading. “The rule, Byron. Remember the rule. We share…everything. You have to taste this.” She paused. “It’s amazing. The chef who made it is amazing.”
I leaned forward and tenderly stroked her lips with my tongue, enjoying the bittersweet of the chocolate mixed with the velvet of her lips. Her low moan spurred me on, and I covered her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply.
She was right.
It was amazing.
Her, her mouth, her rule, her adorable ways.
The taste of her.
They were all amazing.
And now…they were part of my life.
Chapter 4
Julia
A month later
“All right, do you have everything you need for tomorrow?” Gerard smiled gently at me.
I furrowed my brow in thought. “I hope so. I want to make this special—and surprise Byron.”
“Follow the instructions, watch your timing, and everything will be fine. He’ll be thrilled you went to all this trouble for him.” He paused, winking at me. “Of course, his best birthday gift will be spending the weekend with you.”
On cue, my cheeks grew warm, the color flooding right down my neck. “I’m not sure how much of a gift that is.”
He chuckled. “Julia, I have been his maître d’, business partner, and friend since he opened his first restaurant. I have never known him to take a weekend off—ever. You’re good for him—you help him remember there is life outside the walls of his kitchen.”
I glanced around the spotless kitchen I was standing in. Gerard had been sweet enough to try to teach me how to make Byron a dinner as a surprise for his birthday. It would be the first meal I had ever attempted to cook. I was delighted and thrilled to find out when not cooking and creating, Byron kept his meals fairly simple. Pasta, chicken, and salad were his favorites. Byron explained to me with all the tasting and rich foods he ate all the time, when not in “chef-mode,” he liked simple fare more.
Except dessert.
His favorite was an amaretto crème brûlée, served with fresh fruit he spiced and sweetened and the thinnest wafer biscuits I had ever seen.
His own recipes, of course.
Gerard was endlessly patient with his lessons, even accommodating my weird hours, using his own kitchen and trying not to alert Byron that anything out of the ordinary was happening.
I thought I had everything under control.
Dinner would include a simple marinara with fresh pasta, although not homemade—Byron would have to make allowances for that minor technicality.
Salad, I could handle, and even though Gerard rolled his hazel eyes, I insisted on garlic bread. There were some habits not even Byron could break.
Dessert worried me the most, but while Gerard offered to make it himself, I insisted on doing it. I wanted to make all of it for Byron. I knew he preferred it made and served the same day, so it was important to me to follow his pattern.
He constantly cooked for me—lunches, dinners, and on occasion, breakfast. He hated the thought of me hungry or eating anything he hadn’t made for me. Every time I walked into the restaurant, I was swept into the kitchen or his office, and once he kissed me thoroughly to say hello, he would instantly inquire if I was hungry. It only took one look of total disappointment when I answered no for me to understand that was how he showed his love for me. After that, the answer was always yes. Seeing the delight on his face when I praised whatever dish he would slide in front of me, I knew I would never say no again.
To anything he asked me.
God, I loved him. We hadn’t said the words to each other yet, but we both felt the emotion. I wanted to tell him this weekend, and that was why I wanted to make him a meal.