Page 72 of Loving Leo

“I took some classes in France.”

“Shut up. You are shitting me, right?”

“No, I’m serious.”

He groans and then points to my plate. “Please eat that. The entire thing so I don’t feel like such a pig.”

“You’re a very cute pig,” I say and he kicks lightly at my leg.

“Shut up. I am not.”

We grin at each other and he sighs, relaxing while I eat my food slowly. As I do, he chatters on about his day before getting up and scooping seconds onto his plate.

He finishes that before I can even finish mine and he also finishes the rest of the wine.

“Are you drunk?” I ask when he leans forward on the island and rests his head on the cool granite.

“I just need a nap. I’m in a coma. A wine and food coma. DNR me, unless you want to make out, then you can plant that pucker on my lips.”

I huff a laugh and then stand up, grabbing the dishes.

“No, I can do that. Just need a minute. I’m not dead yet.”

“Let me just throw them in the dishwasher and then we can go relax. We can have dessert later.”

He nods and I get to work. When I’m done, the plates put away and my apron sitting on the counter, I lead Leo out onto the balcony overlooking the city and settle down on a lounger, spreading my thighs and pointing to the space between them.

“A post dinner snuggle, oh god,” he moans and then climbs between my legs, resting his back against my chest. “You’re really spoiling me, Heath.”

“Good, like I said, you deserve it.”

I press a light kiss to the side of his neck and he shivers. My fingers slide under his shirt and touch the warm skin of his stomach as we both just sit in silence, watching the lights flicker before us.

In this moment, I’ve never felt more content.

I don’t want this feeling to ever go away.

THIRTEEN

Leo

I behaved worse than an animal at dinner but can you blame me? Heath can cook! He cooks like a chef. And don’t even get me started on the creme brulee. He’s feeding it to me right now and I am seriously considering marrying him.

I joked about it earlier, but now I think that its a necessity.

“You have a little cream right here,” Heath says and then leans forward and kisses it away. I nearly melt into a puddle. We’re still outside, looking at the romantic lights twinkling before us, cuddled under a blanket because there’s a sudden chill in the air. I never want to leave.

I know that can’t really happen, but a boy can dream right.

Who would have thought that the grumpy man I met the first night would end up being such a squishy marshmallow.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to swoon and I may never wake up.”

“The prince always wakes the princess up with a kiss.”

“Are you calling me a princess?” I tease.

“Maybe.”

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