Savor You (Fusion #5)(45)

She narrows her eyes and slips my tiny bite of pie in her own mouth, chewing slowly as if she’s considering what to do.

God, she’s funny.

“You know you want to share.”

“Or, you know, I don’t want to share.” She shrugs and takes another bite, making me laugh.

“Fine. Keep the pie. I had no idea you were so selfish.”

She grins and offers me a big bite, which I take and immediately nod in agreement. “Okay. I get it. I wouldn’t want to share either.”

“I’ll share with you. Because you’re nice, and handsome, and you bought it for me.”

“Your kindness is acknowledged and appreciated.”

Three bites later, the pie is gone, the plate set aside, and we’re scooting down in bed. I pull her against me, the way I’ve become accustomed to in the past few weeks since being with her again. Her head is on my chest, her arm and leg both draped around me.

“Are you comfy?” she asks softly.

“Oh yeah.”

“Do we want to do the sex tonight?”

I smirk. “The sex? No. I don’t think I could muster up the energy right now.”

“Thank God,” she says and kisses my shoulder. “I’m so tired. But if you want to, I can probably turn over and give you access.”

“You’re so romantic.”

She snorts and I push her onto her back and bury my face in her neck, breathing her in. “I always want you, Mia. Even when I’m bone tired from dancing the night away with you, I crave you. It wouldn’t take much for me to slip inside you and lazily make love to you until we’re both gasping for breath.

“But we’re tired. Tonight was a fun adventure. One I’d very much like to repeat in the not-too-distant future. Not every night needs to end with mind-blowing sex. I’m content to hold you. To be with you. To just feel you against me.”

“You are romantic,” she says quietly while running her fingers through my hair. “I like it. I’ve never been one for romance, but when it comes from you, I like it very much.”

I smile and kiss her softly, and return us to the way we were. “Go to sleep, Mia.”

She clears her throat and kisses my shoulder again. “Okay. Sleep well, love.”

She falls into a deep sleep, breathing evenly, and now my eyes are wide open. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue, something to say as she falls asleep. She’s exhausted. Would she have used that word if she were wide awake?

I don’t think so.

Yet, hearing it from her lips has ignited a fire in me that I didn’t know existed. I do love Mia. Fiercely. I want to claim her, to be with her for as long as I live. My life just isn’t the same when she isn’t in it.

And I’m ready to give her the words.

To make her feel the way I feel right now. I know that she didn’t say I love you and that she was already half asleep when she said it.

I don’t care.

I need to tell her.





Chapter Thirteen





Mia


“How’s the new guy?” Camden asks as I change lanes on the freeway west of Portland. We’re on our way to my favorite orchard to pick apples.

“Pete’s great,” I reply with a nod.

“What do you like best about him?”

I love that Camden asks me thought-provoking questions. He doesn’t just leave the conversation at Pete’s great. He wants more.

Which tells me he pays attention and he gives a shit.

Basically, he’s a unicorn.

“Okay, here’s my list of things I like about Pete.” I clear my throat. “He’s super competent. Not only does he have a culinary degree, but he’s worked in high-profile kitchens most of his career, so he’s great under pressure.”

“Very important,” Camden says with a nod.

“Yes. Also, he patiently learned my recipes, and doesn’t try to take liberties with them. He knows that the food sells well just the way it is and he respects that, while also suggesting new menu items to incorporate as time goes on.

“It took me months to develop the aphrodisiac menu, Camden. It wasn’t easy. So, having someone else on hand who has ideas is refreshing.”

“I can see that.”

“He’s tough on the other kitchen staff, but not unreasonable. I also know that he’s not trying to elbow me out of my own kitchen. He’s enjoying his job. And because I trust him to run the kitchen without me, I can take several days off each week to work on new recipes, or interview new vendors.”

“Or spend time with your boyfriend.”

I glance over to see him smiling at me, and I squeeze his hand. “Yes. Like today when he’s going with me to pick apples.”

“They do sell apples at most grocery stores,” he says. “If not every grocery store.”

“It’s not the same as picked from the tree.” I take my exit off the freeway. This orchard is about an hour from downtown Portland. It’s not just an apple orchard. They also grow cherries and pears, and pumpkins for autumn.

“I can smell fall in the air.”

He barks out a laugh. “That comedian was right. Women love fall.”

“What’s wrong with fall? I like pumpkins and apples and snuggling up under a blanket by a fire.”