Free Craving Her Curves by Nora Stone

said.
    “Really? Every woman I meet likes dry wines, so they never like my choices,” he replied, grinning. I laughed.
    “Not every woman,” I said.
    “Nope, not anymore,” he said, bumping his hip against mine. I laughed and moved toward the table.
    “Come on, I’m hungry. What’s next?” I asked. He laughed and set his glass down.
    “Next, the sauce. A friend of mine suggested we put a little sugar in it, to take the bite down a bit,” he said, opening the container. He sprinkled the sauce lightly with the sugar, and then gently stirred it in.
    “Mmm, sugar,” I said softly, picking up another spoon and sprinkling some on my tongue. He turned, his hands stopping mine.
    “Wait. Don’t close your mouth,” he whispered. His face moved slowly closer, his eyes locked on my lips, on the sugar on my tongue. His tongue gently teased the sugar on my tongue before he pressed his lips against mine, mingling the taste of the sugar between us. The spoon fell to the table, forgotten as our fingers linked and we become tangled in each other. Then the oven chimed, letting us know that it was done preheating. Joey laughed against my lips, his arms still tightly wrapped around me.
    “Wow,” I said softly.
    “Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away,” he said, slowly letting me go. I swallowed the nothing in my mouth and nodded.
    “Right. It’s okay. No worries,” I said. Because that was about all I could manage right then, as he’d kissed every ounce of sense out of my head.
    “We should probably get back to dinner,” he said. I just nodded, not trusting my voice to work again for a bit. I wasn’t one hundred percent that my legs wouldn’t just dump me on the floor without warning. I wasn’t going to admit that out loud, though.
    The music for the night was a wonderful jazz album, accompanied by a beautiful night sky and someone who made me laugh. Oh, and flour. By the time we slid the pizzas into the oven, we were almost covered in it, and we didn’t rectify the situation while they were cooking, choosing instead to wrestle on the couch the entire time.
    “How did you get flour in your hair?” Joey asked, refilling both wine glasses before we moved to the table to eat.
    “You’re kidding, right?  You threw flour at me!” I laughed. He gave a mock gasp.
    “I did nothing of the sort,” he said. I laughed and eyed the flour handprints I’d left on his shirt. We needed to do laundry or something.
    “Denial is not just a river in Egypt, Joey,” I said. He stopped and frowned slightly.
    “What?” he asked with a confused look.
    “Denial.... The Nile... River? Get it?” he snorted a laugh and sat down beside me.
    “You know, you’re kind of a dork,” he said. I scoffed.
    “You like this dork, so what does that make you?” I asked. He stopped, thinking as he took a bite of pizza.
    “A dork lover. It’s a dark, unexplored fetish on the underside of sexual fantasies,” he said. I almost choked on my wine.
    “Okay, you can’t be that funny while I’m drinking something. “ I said, laughing. He grinned and winked.
    “Fine, I will attempt to be dull and boring, just for you,” he laughed.
    Dinner was filled with smiles, laughter, and subtle brushes of skin. I ate my two pieces and watched in amazement as he ate the rest and sat back, looking not even half as full as I felt.
    “Do you always eat that much?” I asked as we moved back into the living room and settled on the couch. He smiled and nodded.
    “Remember the trainers and the diets that we all have? I do a lot of running and tackling, so I burn it all off at practices and games. I have to take in enough calories to cover what I work off. Otherwise, I’ll get sick,” he said.
    “Oh. I guess I hadn’t thought about that. So, could you train me? Maybe to tone up a bit?” I asked. He gave me a look filled with disbelief.
    “Why?  You are absolutely perfect,” he said. I laughed in response.
    “Flattering,