Page 37 of Bartholomew
“So, what makes up a second dinner?” I asked, attempting to waylay the conversation.
“That is where the fun comes in, dear DeeDee,” he chuckled.
“Ew, no. Not DeeDee.” He chuckled at my scrunched-up face.
“Not a fan of that nickname, huh? We should find another then. Perhaps Lilah?” he suggested. I shrugged in response, letting him lead me to the kitchen.
“Some of my friends call my Lilah. They have since we were children, but…” I trailed off, realizing that what I wanted to say was a touch embarrassing.
“But what?” he pressed, pulling me close to him when we entered the kitchen. He walked me backwards two steps until my back pressed up against the edge of the countertop. His hands on my hips, and the way he loomed over me, had my core clenching again, wanting to kiss him.
“What is it, lovely girl?” he cooed, leaning down to kiss my cheek. And then my neck. I gasped and arched into his touch. “Come on. Tell me,” he coaxed.
“But I like when you call me other things more,” I admitted, lost in the feel of his lips pressed against my neck.
“Like what?” he murmured, the sound of his voice almost vibrating over my highly sensitized skin.
“Like sweetheart. And lovely girl. And all those things,” I whimpered, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. I didn’t want those kisses to stop.
“Oh, does dear Delilah have a thing for pet names?” he teased. I could hear the smirk in his voice. Then I felt it as he pressed a kiss just below my ear.
“Why does even that sound good?” I groaned in embarrassment. He pulled back and searched my face, his eyes on mine.
“What?” he questioned.
“Just you saying pet names gets a reaction out of me,” I barely whispered.
“Now, there’s a question,” he said with a hint of a smirk. “Does my dear Delilah like that I talked about pet names? Or did the fact I had said pet do something to her?”
Something coiled deep within me. Not simply arousal, but something electric. My mouth dropped open and, while I felt the blush cover my cheeks, I didn’t care. Why did that sound so good?
“Let me be clear, darling. I do not hate the idea of calling you pet. Not one bit. But perhaps we should explore other names as well.” The promise in his eyes pulled me in deeper into the tangled web of arousal we seemed to spin. “But that will be a conversation for tomorrow, I think. Time to cook.”
The spell was far from broken, but I had to admit, I was relieved to take things down a notch. At least for now. What was this man doing to me?
“So, what does one cook for a second dinner?” I sighed heavily, still feeling tingly in places I wasn’t quite ready to process.
“That would be fondue, my dear,” he said with a glint of something devious in his eyes.
“What on Earth is fondue?” I giggled.
“What is — What is fondue?! Are you kidding me? Only the greatest trend to come from the seventies! Er — well, maybe not the greatest trend. But the greatest food trend, for sure!” That boyish energy of his was back in full force. It charmed me, far more than I wanted to admit.
“Okay, but that doesn’t tell me what it is,” I chuckled, unable to keep myself from smiling at his excitement as he rifled through the refrigerator.
“Here, take these and cut them up into little bite-sized pieces,” he instructed, handing me several containers of fruit. Before I could question anything, he had set out a cutting board and a knife and was off pilfering through the pantry. “Yes, these will do nicely,” he added, coming out carrying a few sweet treats.
“Marshmallows and brownies?” I questioned, not understanding at all how this fondue nonsense worked.
“Yup. So, here’s what we do. We are going to warm up a delicious concoction of chocolate and Nutella. Then we will dip these bites of fruit and such into the mixture and eat it.” The way he lit up when talking about food was endearing, but all I could hear was my mother’s voice in the back of my brain telling me the million reasons I did not need to eat such foods.
“That sounds lovely, Ollie, but I need nothing so decadent,” I protested, feeling the walls build back up around me. A second dinner? What was I thinking?
“Hey, hey, stay with me here,” Ollie urged quietly, turning to me, and immediately coming to my side. His hand cupped my face so that my eyes stayed locked on his. “Are you telling me you are truly not hungry? Because your stomach growled in the living room just moments ago and you barely ate your first dinner. If you are hungry, please know this. You deserve decadence, sweetheart.”
His words tugged at something in my heart that I had buried long ago.
“It’s difficult,” I sighed, closing my eyes even as he held my face in the palm of his hand.
