Carter had thought that maybe Iwouldabandon him.
“And miss out on all the fun?” I asked, passing him a cup of coffee. “Two sugars.”
“You remembered,” he marveled as he accepted the cup, wrapping both hands around it.
“It’s not a whole lot to remember.” I shrugged, presenting the box with two perfect, golden-brown, breakfast-sized tarts complete with adorable pastry maple leaves in the center. “Tarte au sucre,” I said, thrilled with myself for getting my tongue around the Rs.
“For breakfast?” Carter asked, raising an eyebrow. All the same, his eyes lit up at the sight of the tarts, nostrils flaring the tiniest bit as he inhaled the tempting scent of butter and maple syrup, the two primary ingredients as far as I could tell.
“I’d pretend this is a sneaky treat while we’re on vacation, but I’m a big believer in pastries for breakfast. They’ve got all the major food groups.”
Carter looked up at me, skeptical.
“Fat and sugar,” I said, grinning broadly. “Probably some protein from the eggs and cream. Perfectly nutritionally complete.”
Carter wet his lips, hesitated, looked down at the tarts again, presented in their cute little box, and took one like a kid who was only allowed one cookie a week and whose mother stood over him while he brushed his teeth after.
… come to think, that might’ve been exactly what his childhood was like.
“These smell incredible,” he said, holding the tart up to eye level and licking his lips again.
I wanted to watch him eat this tart more than I wanted air right now. The mattress creaked as I sat down next to him, pastry box between us, tucking my own coffee between my knees.
Blood pounded in my ears as Carter’s tongue darted out again, pink and perfect, lifting a few crystals of sugar off the crust before disappearing behind his lips. The softest little satisfied exhale made my insides squirm, and I couldn’t look away as his mouth opened, pretty lips parting to take a bite, eyes closing as the sweet filling hit his tongue, a soft hum vibrating in his throat.
Not only was I staring, I was a little short of breath.
I looked away in a hurry, focusing on my own tart, shoving a full quarter of it in my mouth to stop myself saying anything stupid.
Like asking if I could lick his fingers clean for him.
“This is incredible,” Carter said between bites. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I managed to grit out past the lump in my throat, proud of myself for not sounding like I was dying of unfulfilled lust.
I watched him take another bite, still transfixed, and then forced myself to look away again, alternating between sips of coffee and bites of tart like the single most erotic thing I’d ever seen wasn’t happening ten inches away from me.
“So uh. What’s on the schedule for today?”
Carter chuckled, licking crumbs and sugar off his perfect lips, flushed and glossy from the sugar and butter.
I hoped he liked those tarts, because I was tempted to bring him one every morning now.
“Do you know there’s an actualschedule?” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand now that he was finished. “I have a printed copy.”
“Sounds like one of your mom’s ideas,” I said.
“Wow, how could you possibly have guessed that?” Carter turned to me, smiling wryly. But it was awarmsmile, the kind that made his eyes sparkle.
I should’ve asked him about them last night, although what would I ask?How come your eyes are so pretty and can I stare into them for, like, an hour?
“Actually, while I was out a talking crow swooped down and told me a prophecy,” I joked.
Carter laughed,reallaughter, and I wanted to bottle that sound and keep it for when I needed a pick-me-up. Forget drugs, forget meditation, forget long walks in the woods.
I just wanted to listen to Carter laugh.
Spending more time with him, one-on-one no less, was making me realize that fifteen-year-old Aiden had incredible taste in men.
