My palms are sweating, I'm feeling queasy, and I can't keep still. "Are you guys sure I look, okay?" I ask, looking down at my outfit of a of a leopard print skirt with a rhinestone belt, a black ruched crop top, black booties.

"Yes, girl. Just relax." Sasha say exiting her bedroom. I fidget with my curls, putting them behind my ears and then fluffing my hair out again. I tug at the end of my top, feeling a little self-conscious about showing my body a little more provocatively. Wearing clothes that show off skin and that are revealing aren't my cup of tea, but I might as we try it, baby steps.

"That man will have heart palpitations from seeing you." Cassie says, from the couch. Amaal who's stuffing her face with popcorn gives me a thumbs up in encouragement. There's a knock at the door and my heart sinks into my stomach and my heart jumps into throat. Shit. I'm even more nervous than I was before. "You gonna open the door or?" I blink at Sasha, unable to move, fear keeping me in place, "okay then." Sasha gets up from the bar stool and opens the front door.

Devontae steps in, greeting Sasha and he halts when he sees me. I rise onto my feet, stepping closer to him. His Adam's apple bob as he swallows, looking at me from head to toe. I tuck my hair behind ear, his intense stare makes me avoid looking at him in the eyes.

"Hi." He breathes out.

"Hi." I say softly.

I turn to look at my girls and Sasha, Cassie, and Amaal stare at the both of us with proud smiles on their faces. "I guess you guys should get going, hmm?"

Devontae snaps out of it, nodding, "Yeah, uh we should. These are for you." He holds out a bouquet of white roses, I look at them in awe. This is my first time ever receiving flowers. Ever. "Thank you, they're beautiful."

"Beautiful, indeed." He says but I know he's not referring to the flowers because he's looking at me. Sasha retrieves the flowers from my hands, "I'll put these in a vase for you."

Devontae holds out his arm for me to take and I slide my arm through it, settling my hand on his bicep. He opens the door for me, Sasha and the girls following us. "Make sure to bring her back home by midnight." Cassie smirks. Amaal rolls her eyes, "don't listen to her, D. Stay out as late as you want."

"Use protection please, I don't wanna be an aunt just yet." Sasha says. "Sasha!" Devontae simply laughs at my outburst. "Goodnight, ladies."

"You look amazing." He says as we head to the elevator. "Thank you. You clean up nicely as well. Wait a second." I say, registering his attire of his all black attire of black dress pants, a long sleeve dress shirt and a blazer. I fix the buttons of his shirt, that were done up incorrectly and leave couple unbuttoned at the top. I pat his chest once I'm done, and he scoop my hand in his placing a kiss on the outside on my palm.

I know my face looks as red as a tomato now. "So where are we going?" He interlocks our hands, his large palm covering mine, as we walk to the car, "you'll see."

...

It's a late Saturday evening, patrons are going on about their business. Devontae opens my car door and holds out his palm and I take it; my heels click against the pavement, and I slide out. He closes the door behind me, taking my hand, however he stops as we take a couple of steps to a restaurant across the street. He tugs on my skirt, pulling down from where its risen. He drops his mouth close to my ear, "I love this skirt on you but only I have the right to look at this ass." He grips my left cheek firmly with his hand, and I resist the urge to moan. "Can we at least eat first?" I strangle out and he laugh placing a kiss on my temple. Devontae opens the door for me, holding his hand out for me to take, "hope you ready to cook your own dinner then."

Huh? The restaurant is empty. Not a single person in sight. The entire place's lighting is dimmed low, the colour scheme of burgundy and mahogany. There's a huge crystal chandelier, the crystals looking like sparkling diamonds under the light. The circular table have green plant decor, with a single candle that are lit, with wine glasses and menu neatly placed on the cream white tablecloths.

Must be expensive as hell. "Uh huh, don't even think about it, there's no price for happiness."

"There is when it means booking an entire restaurant." He sighs, "can you just let me spoil you, please? Please? I'm doing this cause I want to."

"Really?" I ask.

"Yeah." Devontae says genuinely, tightening his grip on my hand as we head to the back of the restaurant to the kitchen. As we head to the back, I look around at the space, seeing the multiple pictures on the wall of people who had been there previously. Each picture ranging with couples, families, and friends, all who have a smile on their faces. I make out the small handwriting on each of them with the date and their names. I can't help but smile at the sentiment of it all. Devontae drags me to the kitchen.

"So, you really booked the whole place huh?"

"Yes, and I don't wanna hear give me shit about it, I wanted us to be alone that way if I say some inappropriate shit, it's for your ears only." He removes his blazer and hangs it where the apron was, rolling up the sleeves up his arms. He puts on a green apron, that was hanging in the corner. He grabs one and hands it to me and I put it on, tying it around my waist.

The equipment is already set out as well as the ingredients. I tie my hair up into a bun, leaving a couple of fly ways around my face. From the ingredients lined up on the table, I can already tell we're making pizzas, they range from pepperoni, tomatoes, cheese, mozzarella, bacon, pineapple, diced chicken, different sauces and many more toppings. I see no readymade pizza or dough so I'm guessing we must make it from scratch. Devontae comes from behind me, tapping my ass twice, so he can make his way around me.

Suddenly he leaves the kitchen and heads to the other door, written staff, I narrow my eyes at him in suspicion but shrug my shoulders, not thinking much of it. He reappears and Monica's voice pours from the overhead speakers, as Angel of Mine starts to play. "I'm guessing the song choice was intentional."

He reassumes his previous activity of grating the cheese, "maybe." I snort, "charmed." He laughs and we fall into comfortable silence, working around the kitchen in synchronicity, "so I always wanted to ask are baking powder and baking soda the same thing?"

I arch a brow at him, "baking powder and baking soda can be used for the same purposes, but they aren't the same thing." I open a packet of flour, dumping it into a large clear bowl, he cracks open the eggs and I scoop some butter from the container.

"Obviously you'd know. You're the daughter of a baker."

"And a chef." I wink at him. We mix the flour, eggs, and butter together in a bowl, more like he does because he didn't want me to ruin my nails even after I said I was okay with mixing the dough. "She went to culinary school for that, right?"

I nod, "yeah, with that knowledge she taught me all I know."

"I'm sure she throws down in the chicken." Devontae says, kneading the dough with expertise, he's obviously done this before. I steal a slice of pepperoni, popping it into my mouth. "She sure does, her mac and cheese is bomb. I'll let her know to make some for you then you can really understand what I'm talking about."

"Why don't you take me down there one day so I can give her the official stamp of approval?" He takes the dough out from the bowl and spreads it on the counter, I take a handful of flour and sprinkle it on the countertop, and I rub the rolling pin with flour and roll out the dough. Once its flat enough, I cut it down the middle so that we can have one half each.

"Is this your way of asking me to meet mama? Properly this time around?" I ask, smiling. He shrugs, "whenever you feel comfortable." I spoon some pasta sauce on the dough, and he does the same. When the sweet melody of Brian McKnight's Forever plays from the overhead speakers. Devontae grabs my hand and spins me around, I let out a yelp in surprise, but a smile creeps its way onto my face, "my goodness."

He places his hand in mine while the other goes around my waist, my free hands rests on his shoulder as we dance around the kitchen, "you ever ask yourself if this is real?" I ask and his forehead crinkles in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Us. I've been constantly asking myself whether this is happening if this is real? Like someone could pinch me, I'd realise that this is all just a dream, that it's just a fragment of my imagination." He dips me, stealing a kiss from my lips.

"Well, you better believe it, mama. This is real. As real as it can ever be." I cup his cheeks and kiss him on the mouth, He deepens it, pulling me upright, my hands cup both of his cheeks and his run down my back, the sensations from his fingertips setting my skin ablaze as they travel across the exposed skin of my lower back, before settling on my ass.

He grabs two handfuls of my ass, igniting a moan from me, my hands glide down and back up his muscled arms to his chest before hooking around the back of his neck. He lifts my leg up and I groan against his mouth, then embarrassingly, the sound of my rumbling stomach breaks us apart and I look at him sheepishly. "I guess we should get some food in you first." He grins and I blush even harder.

We separate much to our hesitation and I begin putting toppings on my pizza, I put some pepperoni, pineapple, a generous amount of grated cheddar and gouda and I grease the edges of the dough with some olive oil. Devontae puts shredded chicken, red bell pepper, and mozzarella. We place them in the oven and while we wait, he cracks open a bottle of Rose.

He grabs two glasses and pours the pink liquid in them, handing me a glass. We clink our glasses in a cheer and we take a sip, our eyes never leaving each other, "So what do we do now?"

"We wait."

...

We spent the next twenty minutes, drinking and giggling. When the timer goes off, Devontae takes the pizzas out of the oven. They're piping hot, but they look utterly delectable, and my stomach is crying out for some food right now. When he sets the pizzas down, I use the pizza cutter to cut the pizza into equal triangles, I hand it over to Devontae who cuts through his own. He takes a seat next to me.

I don't even wait before taking a slice of the pizza and taking a bite, instantly burning the roof of my mouth so I huff and puff as I chew it, burning my tongue in the process. "Slow down, baby."

I take a sip of the rose, trying to cool down my burned mouth, "I'm hungry." I say, swallowing a gulp of the alcoholic drink. "So am I but you don't see me scarfing down my food when it just came out of the oven." He laughs at me, and I pout, he stretches his hand out to me, "c'mere."

When I stubbornly refuse, he grips the loops of my apron and drags me closer to him. He grabs my glass and sets it on the table, his hands run up and down my back and plants his lips on mine. I immediately wrap my arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer, when his hands drift down to my ass and grabs hold, making me moan.

"I think you should leave that for when I'm inside of you." He mumbles against my lips. "You wanna put that into motion?" I whisper against his lips, and I feel his mouth pull into a grin, "you better not run this time."

...

AUTHORS NOTE

Phew, chile. If I could order a Devontae online I would.