The Lady's Chocolatier by Sandra Sookoo

Author:Sandra Sookoo
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-04-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

The rain hadn’t let up by dinner.

This time, instead of taking a late tea in the emporium, Evangeline consented to sharing an actual meal with Jasper in his apartment, where he did have a dining room with a table that surprisingly sat eight people. Located on the second floor—the bedroom and small parlor on the third—the level also featured a decent-sized drawing room complete with a piano, as well as a kitchen and a tiny powder room.

How interesting his bachelor quarters were so decadent that he could entertain should he so desire. The kitchen, as she’d discovered once he’d closed the shop and they’d retired to his living area, was ruled by a housekeeper, who visited the bachelor abode three times a week. Today, she left him a meal of roast beef, sautéed peas and carrots, and creamed potatoes.

As she glanced about the dining room and took in the gilt-framed paintings of water-colored landscapes, the crystal chandelier above the gleaming cherrywood dining table and the shining silverware, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d funded all of these lavish touches or if his had family contributed.

She stole a glance at him as he chased a few peas around his plate, trying in vain to encourage them onto his fork. His suggestive words of earlier still echoed in her ears. When he’d spoken them, did he imagine himself as her lover? Did he wish to do such things to her, and use melted chocolate during intimacies? Had he said those things from experience? Good God, had he employed his confections on another? Her eyes widened. Perhaps, but it was also possible the woman he’d told her of before, the lady in France, had taught him those same things.

The more she ruminated, the more a twinge of jealousy speared through her. It should have been her to lay with him in twisted sheets and experience the heated press of their bodies together. But that moment had passed due to her own foolishness.

Yet, a shiver of need shot down her spine. Such an inconvenience, reality. Easily rectified in one’s thoughts, where everything was as it should be. No longer did she see him seated across the table from her. In her mind’s eye, she pretended she stood at the side of his bed while he lounged upon it, stark naked. In her hand, she held a wooden spoon. Decadent, melted chocolate dribbled from the utensil onto his rampant and ready manhood. Her mouth watered, and in her fantasy, she tossed away the spoon while lowering her head, tongue ready to lick the sweetness from his—

“Did you enjoy your meal?” The low tenor of his voice interrupted her daydream.

Hellfire and damnation! Never say that he could read her mind. Did pleasuring a man with one’s mouth constitute a meal? Perhaps in some ways it could. And where in heaven’s name had those thoughts sprung from in the first place? Never in her life had she put her mouth—or any other part of her—upon a man’s shaft.

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