Page 46 of Mr. Green (Mr. #2)

Lana

H e’s surprising me? Me, of all people. I know now to never say no to one of his surprises. I’m not stupid.

Ryan’s idea of a surprise was him getting a blow job. He never thought of me. Grant has thought of me more than Ryan ever did in our whole relationship. I can’t believe I’ve been so hung up on him.

I’m a little embarrassed about how bad my driving was. I rarely leave our little town and driving in the city is full of cars and people. Thankfully, Grant took over. It’s more than likely he was scared for his life, but whatever. He was a perfect gentleman about it.

He pulls up to my building and parks. We walk up to my door and Queenie greets us. We walk into the apartment, which is filled with the smell of potatoes, rosemary, and chicken. My mom always cooked, and the smell is taking me back to moments at home. It’s nice to be able to share it with someone.

“I hope you’re hungry!” I state. I made this meal thinking of Grant the entire time. He told me he likes the idea of a homecooked meal filling the home up with smells. It’s the first time I’m excited for someone to taste what I’ve cooked in a while.

“It smells phenomenal in here! Did you cook?” he asks, looking around like a chicken will pop out and hug him.

“Yes, for you. You want to have a plate now?”

“Fuck yeah. You’ll have to pack after we eat.”

I start grinning. He’s excited for something I made him. It’s what I’ve always loved about cooking—the excitement of bringing something good to someone. It’s highly fulfilling.

I grab one of my colorful plates and scoop up some food onto the dish.

It’s a new recipe, and I’ve had it cooking all day, so I know it’s going to be filled with flavor and tenderness.

I put potatoes in there as well and we have a small garden salad.

I look down at the plate filled with every color of the rainbow.

Another thing about cooking I love is finding colors to use to bring the dish to life.

I also have little tarts for dessert and I know they’re fucking good.

Maybe he’ll fall in love with me after he eats.

I hand the plate over to him, trying to keep my smile at bay. He’s poured us each a glass of red wine and waits until I grab my plate to sit down.

“Thank you, Lana. This looks delectable, as do you.”

I nod. “Dig in.”

I throw on some light classical music and light two candles on the table to achieve a whole experience. There’s a series of “mmms” and “wows” throughout dinner. Once he completely clears his plate, I get up to grab those tarts.

“Ready for dessert?” I ask, giving him a seductive look.

“Yes,” he grumbles in a voice two octaves lower than his normal one. He stares at me, as if he’s looking through my clothes. I might as well not have anything on at this point.

I bring the tart over on one plate and sit on the table right in front of him. He moves my legs so they’re surrounding him. I lean down and feed it to him. He takes half of it and closes his eyes while digging his hands into my hips.

I take a small bite of the tart for myself. That’s his cue to attack. He pulls me down so I’m on his lap and kisses my neck and then my mouth, trying to sneak a taste of the tart from elsewhere. I let him explore my mouth. Then he pulls away, leaning his forehead against mine.

“It kills me to say this, but we need to get going. I wish we had more time. I’m going to have to wait for more dessert until later. You need to go pack, baby.”

My heart is beating so fast. I was thinking things would escalate. I have more under this dress I wanted him to see. I guess I’ll have to wait.

I get up to go to my room to pack, and he tries to hang onto me until the last possible second.

“I may need to take a cold shower while you pack,” he calls out.

I start laughing, feeling desired by someone I can’t get enough of. I hope he’s falling in love as much as I am.