Chapter 32
“Will toast do you? It’ll take me a while to get dinner ready.”
“Toast will be great.”
So I put a couple of rounds of toast through the toaster, spreading each as soon as it popped up with butter and marmalade, feeding my man as we stood at the worktop together. We still held onto each other throughout all of this.
When we finished, I wiped his mouth with a paper towel, kissed him on the lips and said, “I can taste Seville oranges.”
“So can I.”
“When those bandages come off, will you still let me feed you sometimes?”
“Only if you’ll let me feed you, too,” Mark said.
“Deal.”
We kissed some more, the exchanges becoming increasingly passionate.
Eventually—and with reluctance—I withdrew. “Listen, love, I need to get on with dinner. Although I don’t want to let go of you, it’ll be a bit awkward if I don’t.”
“Oh,” Mark sighed dramatically. “I’m being passed over for a twelve-pound turkey.”