“Oh my f*****g…mmm.” s**t, this was good. Yes, Elias could cook the pants off a chef, as far as I was concerned. The food melted in my mouth and, dear God in heaven, every bite was practically orgasmic.
Elias smirked. “So, did I exaggerate?”
All I could do was shake my head and keep on eating. The moans and groans and the way I licked my lips were certainly reminiscent of good s*x.
“If I ate like this every day, s*x might become second-rate. Where did you learn to cook with such…passion?”
“I took some classes when I lived in Europe for a year. Slept with one of the chefs. I spent a month in his bed and kitchen learning what really constituted good food. It was hedonism at its best.”
“I see.” Why was I feeling jealous of a man thousands of miles away and no longer in Elias’s life?
Eli
