Raspberry is next, given its deep purple color. I take a bite and wince from the tartness of it. When she does the same, we share a laugh that feels like it’s been building up for a while. She says, “Not my favorite, but I do like it.”
“I’m thinking you could say the same about me.”
“You’re not far off, hotshot.” Sliding the next pint forward, she adds, “Lemon. Oddly, it’s not tart at all. It’s really good.”
With the gelato on my spoon, I hold it in front of me. “You’re growing on me.”
Her laughter echoes over the island, the sound weaseling its way into that once beatless organ. “I’d hope so.” Waggling that ringed finger, she adds, “Since we’re married and all.”
“And all is my favorite part.” I finally take the lemon dessert into my mouth to savor it. After it melts, I say, “I was starting to think this might have been an arranged marriage. I seem to be the opposite you have an affinity for.”
Swirling her spoon around with chocolate on the end, she says, “So you claim, but I’m realizing we’re not as opposite as even I once thought.” Coming around to my side of the island, she slides onto a barstool next to me. “Tell me, hotshot?—”
“Again with the hotshot?”
“If the shoe fits . . .” She licks the back of the spoon,making my mind go straight to the tightening in my pants. I shift, not making a show of it, but with a knowing smile situated on her face and her eyes brighter with the trouble she’s getting me into, I think she’s onto me.God, I wish she was on me.
By how she licks the spoon again, slower this time, she likes that I see her, that I’m turned on by her. Some of those thoughts I had earlier—imagining her tits bouncing as she rides me with abandon, gripping onto the swell of her hips when I fuck her from behind, having her spread naked across my desk while we fuck with all of New York City outside the windows—return. She’s got an incredible hourglass figure that I can’t wait to plow into.
It's a game of cat and mouse, but sex is still a factor when there’s mutual attraction.
“Earth to Warner.” She waves her hand in front of me. When my eyes focus on her face again, she says, “And you had the nerve to complain about me disappearing on you. It’s always projection. In other news, back to the gelato. Now that you’ve tried them?—”
“I haven’t tried the lavender basil.”
“I love the two herbs individually. I don’t think they need to be mixed, so I‘ll spare you the trouble of suffering through it.” Taking the spoon out of my hand, she walks back into the kitchen, dumping them into the steel sink and letting them clang around the bottom. I’m busy cringing when she asks, “You were done, right?”
Not sure when I was going to be allowed to reply, but the time has passed to make a difference in the outcome. “All done.” After she returns each lid to its pint, she stacks them up and turns to load them back into the freezer. “What should we do now?”
I have ideas that would probably get me slapped if I voiced them. “Movie?”
She kicks the steel door closed with her bare foot, causing me to take a deep breath before I lose my shit. “Sure. What do you want to watch?”
“What aboutMr. and Mrs. Smith?”
With her hands planted on her hips, she crinkles her face in disapproval. “You want to watch a movie about spies trying to kill each other?”
I move to the sitting area and open a box on the console beneath the big-screen TV hanging on the wall. “Don’t forget they’re married.”
“Oh, I didn’t.” Delaney’s already curling her legs under her. As soon as I sit and dim the lights with one of the remotes, she slides across the middle cushion to lean against me. She’s laying it on a bit thick. Call me a fool, but I’m into it. “What aboutEntrapmentwith Catherine Zeta-Jones?”
“Never heard of it.”
“What? How is that possible? You were alive when it came out.”
My stare latches onto thin air before turning to her with a cocked brow. “Are you not so subtly saying that you weren’t alive when it was released since I’m the old man in the room?” I find the movie and start it. It’s dated, but I’m open to seeing if it’s any good.
“It released years before I was born.” She rests her head on my shoulder, watching the movie studio logo cross the screen. I think she’s avoiding eye contact, but what would an old geezer like me know? “My dad loves heist movies.”
“Sohetaught you the con,” I mumble to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I set the remote on the coffee table and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “It’s starting.”
Forty-five minutes in, I’m fully invested, but Little Miss Priss fell asleep twenty minutes after it started. Her soft snore doesn’t bother me, but it does have me considering moving her to the bedroom. Probably not wise to carry her with a broken arm, though. “Delaney?” I don’t know why I just kissed her head. It was there, and it happened before I thought twice about it. I gently rock her shoulders. “Delaney?”
Tired eyes that are barely open look at me. “Yeah?” Panic creeps into her voice. “What is it?”
