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He laughs. "And I haven’t even gotten through the rest of the orgasms."
"Don’t remind me." Clearly, I don’t stand a chance. By the time he’s done with me, I’ll have no resistance left in my body. I’ll be a pile of mush—gooeyness without the ability to think straight. I’ll have become his sex slave, not to mention a slave to his cooking.
"You’re thinking so hard, you’re giving me a headache." He takes my glass of champagne and hands it to me. "Have your drink and enjoy. I promise, you’re not going to regret agreeing to stay here with me."
I know for a fact he’s right, and that pisses me off even more. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good with him. It wasn’t supposed to feel like I’m going to miss him when we leave. And he cooked for me. Jesus, he cooked for me. A warmth sweeps through me. It’s almost as pleasurable a feeling as the orgasms he’s given me. Almost.
I lift my glass and finally take a sip. The bubbles burst on my tongue. Flavors ofpeach and cherry, citrus and almond, cream and buttery toast. The notes merge, and the confluence of it all sinks into my palate. My head spins, and a burst of happiness sizzles through my veins.
"This is exquisite."
"No more than you, baby."
I chuckle. "You sweet-talker, you."
"Glad you’re feeling better."
"I’m actually really hungry." Maybe I was hangry, orhorngry? That could explain the tears. Yep, I’m sure that’s all it was.
He peers into my face, then nods before he rises to his feet and takes his seat again. He carves out a piece of the turkey and places it on my plate. At the same time, I carefully slice a piece of the pie and place it on his.
He tops up our champagne, then grins. "Shall we eat?"
29
Hunter
"That was really, really good." She leans back with a sigh.
Her eyes are glazed over with what I recognize as the classic signs of food coma. A warm sensation floods my chest. My heart feels like it’s expanding until it fills my ribcage. Satisfaction—that’s what it is. A feeling of contentment so different from anything I’ve experienced before, it takes me a little time to understand the root of it. I may not have hunted down the food for my woman, but I cooked it and made sure she enjoyed it. It’s the single most significant thing I’ve accomplished, except for when I made her come. It’s more rewarding than winning the election in my constituency, more enjoyable than anything I’ve done for myself in the past. And all I did was make sure she was well fed. What is it about this woman that makes me want to take care of her every need?
"You did say that you trained to be a chef, but this was exceptional." She tilts her head back.
"I’m pleased you liked it." I polish off the rest of the food on my plate, then reach for the champagne bottle. I top her off, then myself.
"Are you trying to get me drunk, Minister?" She peers at me from under her eyelashes.
"Am I succeeding?"
"And I thought I was the lawyer." She chuckles.
"Oh, you know us politicians. We have to be part entertainer, part statesman, part every other profession that needs to be people-facing. And in my case, it’s woven through with the need to do good for the country."
"Where does it come from? This need to do good for the country?"
"That’s a good question." I look into the depths of my flute. "When I first decided to stand for elections in my constituency, I did so because it was expected of me. My father held down the seat, and my grandfather before that, so it was expected of me. I’d been preparing for it my entire life, yet when I got elected, no one was more surprised than me."
"I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t been elected to the parliament," she murmurs.
"Two compliments in the space of two minutes, I do believe you may be thawing, Councilor," I drawl.
She raises a shoulder. "I may not always see eye to eye with you, but I’ll be the first to admit that of all the politicians on the scene today, you stand out as being the most well-intentioned."
"Why, thank you, Fire."
She flushes, and goddamn, that’s adorable. She might come across as a hard-headed career woman, but I can see the woman she really is—soft-hearted, generous, loyal. I know her better than she realizes.
"I’m not saying anything the critics haven’t pointed out already." She scoffs.
