“Thanks. It feels really good. It’s meaningful.”
“It’s important work you are doing. You’re using your voice and your platform to make a difference to many. This impact will be felt for a long time. That’s all you, Ives. It deserves to be celebrated.”
“How do we celebrate?”
“Want to try my grandma’s pasta recipe?”
“You found all the ingredients?”
“I sure did.” Ivory and I were talking the other night about wanting to try new recipes when I remembered the one my grandma used to make.
“You really think we can do it?”
“Between the two of us, I’m sure we can figure it out.” The recipe is fairly straightforward. The hardest part will be rolling out the dough for the noodles.
“What about rolling out the pasta?”
“Nothing a little elbow grease won’t fix,” I say, flexing my bicep at her. When she rolls her eyes like she always does, I adda wink. “Do you need to do any more work or are you done for the day?”
“I’m done. What about you? How are your projects going?”
“Good, for the most part. I have some calls I need to make but I will do them tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?’
“Positive. Let’s make some pasta.” Gathering all the ingredients to make the dough, we get to work. Ivory does each task while I walk her through the recipe. Being here with her in this moment is the most natural feeling in the world. We touch. We laugh. We talk. We play.
“Preston, get it off.” Her hands are covered in dough and she has flour in her hair and on her face.
“I don’t know…it looks kind of cute on you.”
“It does not,” she huffs out.
“Sure it does.”
I reach out, acting like I’m going to swipe the smudge of flour off her cheek. Instead, I add some to her other cheek and her nose. Ivory gasps. She doesn’t hesitate for long before she flicks the flour on her hands in my face.
Sputtering, I wipe some out of my eye and pull away my finger to look at the offending powder as if to prove to myself that she did that. Ivory looks just as shocked. But her surprise morphs into a blinding smile. It doesn’t last long because I reach for more flour, flicking some on her chin and neck. Ivory squeals and darts to the other side of the counter taking the mixing bowl and her doughy hands with her. I run after her, starting a game of chicken around the center island in the kitchen. Ivory throws more flour at me that I easily dodge.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, Hollywood!” I jab at her causing another flick of flour to fly in my direction. This time I let it hit me. “You seem to forget that you might have the bowl on that side of the island with you, but”—reaching over, I grab what I need—“I have the whole bag over here.”
Ivory pales for a quick second and then an all-out food fightbegins. Flour flies between us until Ivory gives up and instead tries to run away from my assault. I easily catch her as she races around the island. My arm loops around her waist bringing her back against my front and her feet off the floor.
“Let me go!” She cackles so openly and loudly, it burrows deep into my heart.
“Never,” I whisper into her ear. She shivers against me.
Depositing Ivory on the island, her legs open to me allowing me to step into her. Ivory still has a smile on her face. Leaning in, my pelvis hits the countertop. This position brings us eye level and Ivory’s eyes hood slightly when I cage my arms over her spread thighs. Our chests bump with heavy breaths.
I need to tread very carefully here. If she makes a move, I won’t reject her, but I have big plans for when she finally gives me a yes. So I need to walk the line like a circus tightrope. I also can’t resist when she is this close and her body is responding to mine. Ivory’s legs squeeze against my hips keeping me in position. Her eyes jockey between my eyes and my lips. A clear indication she is thinking about kissing me.
“Looks like we at least saved the dough.”
“Good thing. That was hard to make.” Ivory brings her face closer to mine. Our breathing mingles together. Lust settles heavy in the emerald depths of her eyes. A spark flares to life and Ivory snaps back to the present, looking around the kitchen. “Oh wow.” She giggles, holding up her messy hands.
“We’ve made a bit of a mess.” I smirk, my eyes never leaving her face.
She mumbles something that sounds like, “The kitchen isn’t the only mess.” Which makes my cock twitch, glad I’m not the only one affected by our food fight.
