Chapter 37

FELIX

I arrived at the restaurant, pleased to see that it looked shiny and new, even from the outside. I knocked on the door, feeling pleased that the maids from the castle had been able to help out.

When Mila opened the door, the breath got knocked out of me.

She wore a slinky, silky dress that clung to her body, hitting just below the knees. The cream color set off the freckles in her skin and made her eyes pop. Her hair was twisted into a sophisticated chignon, showing off her sharp collar bones and elegant neck.

Forget dinner. I was ready to have Mila for dessert.

She smiled at me, unaware of the string of utterly filthy thoughts that were filling my head.

“I thought we could eat here tonight,” she said, taking me by the hand. “I set up something special for us.”

I was thrilled to see that the interior of the restaurant was sparkling clean. The walls were painted a sweet baby pink, and the floor was a pretty white tile that accentuated the airiness of the space. It felt open, yet homey. I couldn’t think of a better way to represent Mila and her cooking than this exact space.

Mila showed me to where our dinner was set up in the center of the dining area.

If last night’s dinner was elegant and romantic, tonight’s was intimate and cozy. Mila had set up a picnic blanket on the floor, surrounded by pillows and blankets that had clearly come from the apartment.

“Since you are my key investor,” she said, escorting me to the picnic blanket, “I was hoping that you would be amenable to a tasting menu. After all, your feedback is very important to this process.”

I kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait to try everything,” I told her.

Dinner was incredible–Mila had put together samplers of everything she was thinking for her menu. There were some familiar dishes of hers that I’d tried before, along with some fantastic new options–her baked bacon chicken mac and cheese topped with herb-roasted breadcrumbs was an incredible addition,

Along with each dish, Mila offered up an explanation for its place on the menu–highlighting the American and Fresonian influences on the flavors. It was incredible how much research and thought she put into everything. It was obvious how much she cared about her work.

I was finishing up a slice of peanut butter and chocolate cookie crumble cheesecake when Mila leaned her head into my shoulder.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I said.

“How do you always know when I’m in trouble?” she questioned, raising her eyes to meet mine. There was doubt in her gaze–doubt that felt like a dagger in my chest. I wanted nothing more than to tell her about the curse, but I also knew that there was no way I could ever truly be honest with her yet.

I could feel her nervousness, but honestly, it could have been my own.

“What do you mean?” I said. It was a terrible response, but the only thing I could come up with.

“You just always seem to sense when I’m in trouble, even when we’re not together,” Mila said. “I just find it interesting.”

Her tone was light, but questioning. She wanted answers–answers I was terrified of providing.

“I just pay attention,” I said finally. “Like today, I assumed you would probably send me pictures and updates of the cleaning process. When there weren’t any, I realized there must have been an issue, so I asked Isla to go check it out.”

Every word to her, every lie, was a sucker punch to the gut. I hated lying to her. The deeper we got into this relationship, the harder it got to be dishonest with her.

But I couldn’t tell her the truth until we were married.

Mila seemed satisfied with my response. She placed her hand against my cheek.

“Well, I really appreciate your attention to detail,” she said gently. “It means a lot to me.”

“Anything for you,” I swore, kissing her palm. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine. It was the treat I had been waiting for all evening. I wound my arms around her waist, pulling her into my lap.

Mila’s breath hitched as I put my lips against her throat. The sound was heavenly.

She pulled back slightly, tracing the features of my face with her fingertips.

“I want you,” she said, her voice as silky as her dress.

I would’ve thrown her down onto the blanket and claimed her right there, but…

I raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever had sex in a kitchen?” I asked, my voice husky.

Mila’s eyes widened as she shook her head no.

“But I’ve always wanted to,” she admitted in a whisper.

That was all I needed to hear. I swept her into my arms and carried her into the kitchen space.

Good thing the countertops had been cleaned today, because we were about to do very dirty things on them.

I placed Mila down on one of the countertops, her legs hooking around my waist. We continued to kiss frantically, scrambling to close every gap between us. One of her hands slid down and cupped me through my pants. I hardened instantly at her touch.

I tugged Mila’s dress up until it bunched around her waist. The fabric was slippery, sliding off her shoulders, revealing bare skin beneath. She gasped as I tugged her neckline down even further, revealing the pale skin of her breast.

Mila’s legs tightened around me as I swirled my tongue around her nipple.

“Felix,” she moaned. My name on her lips was all the encouragement I needed. I unbuckled my pants in record time, sliding into her merely seconds later.

Somehow, sex with Mila got better every time. It took everything in me not to explode as soon as I felt her tight, wet warmth around me. She clawed at my hair, tugging my mouth back up to meet hers.

We quickly fell into a rhythm, with me clutching Mila tightly to keep her on the counter. I was a bit rougher, a bit wilder, than I had been with her before–and I could tell from her fingernails digging into my back that she was leaving marks all over my body.

Good. She could mark her territory. Let everyone know that this woman was mine and mine alone.

My fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head backward to expose the sensitive skin on her throat. I bent down and licked a bead of sweat that had formed there, which caused Mila to thrash wildly.

Her breaths started coming quicker, her eyes screwing shut as she writhed against me. She was close. I could feel her muscles tightening around me, as well as the pool of pleasure building inside her core.

The really amazing thing about sex with Mila was that I could feel her own physical sensations just as much as I could feel mine. It made every touch, every thrust, feel ten times more intimate. It was honestly a bit of a miracle that I had been able to hold on this long.

Mila ran her hands over my chest and arms, her fingertips leaving behind a string of goosebumps.

“Behind,” she gasped, and who was I to deny her?

I pulled out of her so that I could twist her around. She grinned at me, a wild, wicked grin, as I bent her over the kitchen countertops and took her from behind.

This view–with her dress gathered high enough that I could see the arch of her back leading down to her bare ass–was perfect.

Mila gripped the counter, hard, as she struggled to stay upright. I knew she was almost there, and I sped up my pace.

Mila cried out as she came, and I was right behind her, spilling into her with a final thrust. I exhaled heavily, draping my body over hers on the countertop, vaguely aware of her reaching a hand up to stroke my hair.

“You’re incredible,” I murmured into her hair. I loved this, laying with her, buried in her, smelling her hair.

“I could say the same to you,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in a kitchen.”

I laughed, and she twisted her face around to kiss me.