Page 95 of Revelry
“Gertie,” was all I could think to say, and his lips pursed. “I won’t be much longer.”
He inclined his head, staring at me like he was enjoying watching me unravel in front of his eyes. “Take your time, please.”
I nodded once and turned back to the counter. I probably needed to get rid of this batch of ice cream now that we’d both put our hands in it and smeared it on each other’s bodies, licking it off. I put it to one side and started again. My thoughts were scattered and I was unable to think about what to do with him standing there.
Eventually, he left the room and I could breathe easy. I got to work, blending the caramel sauce and salt to the heavy cream mixture and stirring it. When I turned to look for a container to put it in, I realized Tate had come back. He was showered and dressed in a black sweater and black jeans, a dark, hot entity in the room, eyes boring into me as he watched me work.
When he didn’t say anything, I continued doing what I was doing and moved onto another batch. I made a lemon and lime sorbet, mint chocolate chip, rum and raisin ice cream, and also a vanilla ice cream but added lots of coloring to it and candy pieces so the kids would go crazy for it.
I also made strawberry ice cream, making it extra pink with big chunks of strawberries and placed that in Tate’s freezer, away from the others because that one was just for him. And the entire time, Tate watched me. Was he checking to make sure I cleaned up?
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave a mess,” I assured him, suddenly worried that’s what was making him stay, not that he actually just enjoyed being around me.
“I’m not worried, sugar. For the first time, I’m not worried about anything making a mess.”
His words gave me pause and I flicked my stare over to him, leaning against the kitchen counter. His brow was furrowed like he was confused by his words but he didn’t appear anxious, so that was something.
“You love this, don’t you?” he asked.
His words made me squirm. I did. I loved making ice cream, combining flavors and creating something new. I even loved it when I put two flavors together that didn’t work at all. I loved getting it wrong because it helped me learn. And I loved watching people’s faces twist with joy as they ate what I made.
But there was a shame tied to making ice cream. Gary’s scorn flooded my mind. I had wanted to try and make a career out of this, and he made me feel stupid for that, made me feel like I couldn’t do it.
I turned away. “I do.”
His heat warmed my back as he stood behind me. “You can taste it.”
I spun and peered up at him. “I’m sorry?”
He gave me a half-smile that was too adorable for words. “You can taste in your ice cream how much you love it. How passionate and dedicated you are. It isn’t bland and boring like other ice cream; it has that something extra. It’s addictive.” Hespoke gently, his words quieting at the end like he shouldn’t be saying them.
He was being too sweet, and it was twisting my stomach into knots. I needed a distraction and luckily, I spotted one. I peered around him, out of the kitchen and across the hallway into the living room. Which was bare.
“Where’s all your Christmas decorations?” I shoved past him and into the living room, glancing around. There was nothing.
He came up behind me, rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was sheepish and about to admit something.
“I don’t really bother.” He shrugged. “Nothing to celebrate.”
I fixed my stare on him, the tight set of his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss and now I knew the history of his family, I could respect that and not push him, yet.
“Maybe this year, there will be?” I offered.
He nodded. “Maybe.”
We regarded each other, just like we’d done before, only now it was different. We’d been naked together, he’d seen my O face and I’d seen his.
It was even sexier than his normal face, FYI.
And certainly not something I would forget anytime soon. But there was an extra layer there now. I didn’t want to call it intimacy, but I didn’t know what else to call it. TheI-word was scary.
His eyes narrowed on me. “Don’t be getting any ideas about decorating the house while I’m out one day. Now I know you have a key, I might need to change the locks.”
I grinned. Because as well as thinking about his orgasm face, Ihadbeen thinking about decorating for him, I already had a plan hatching. He knew my mischievous side too well.
“You wouldn’t do that, you like me being here too much,” I replied, holding my breath because if he said he didn’t thenhe would shatter me, and if he said he did, he would also shatter me. Because I was getting attached and only bad things happened when I became attached to someone.
Instead, he just snorted before he shook his head and went back into the kitchen. I trailed after him.
