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I slipped out, my robe swishing around me as I sneaked down the stairs. The lights were off, so I knew Asher had finally gone down for something to eat sometime between Lily’s bedtime and mine.
I went right for the freezer. “Where are you?” I whispered as I dug deeper into the bottom freezer drawer of the fridge. I knew I’d stashed a half gallon of peanut butter fudge.
“Looking for this, perhaps?”
I screeched and whirled around. My heart skipped as I shoved the drawer closed. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
The quick flash of white in the moonlight told me he was more amused than contrite.
“Why are you eating ice cream in the dark?”
“Could ask you the same.”
“Well, do you have another spoon?”
“No, but you can share mine.”
I crossed my arms to disguise my very braless state. I could get my own spoon, of course, but something told me to go sit with him at the little bench seating in the corner of the kitchen. The slats from the shutters left him in shadow, but there was enough light to tell me he was sitting there without a shirt.
Go back upstairs, Hannah.
Ignoring that voice was always bad for my panties. Hell, it was the reason I was in this whole situation. Yet I found myself crossing the room to sit across from him at the little table where we occasionally shared a meal. Only this felt far more intimate.
Still, I didn’t turn on the light. I liked the dark. Liked the softness between us.
Maybe we needed the cover of night to actually be civil toward one another.
“I see you were feeling a little heated tonight too?”
He glanced down at his chest. “I’ve been stuck in a suit for days. I didn’t even want to wear a damn T-shirt tonight.”
“Can’t say I mind.” I glanced down at my chipped nails. The last vestiges of my girls’ night were already fading since I did so much with my hands during the day.
God, my palms were itching to reach across the table to see if his chest was as warm as I remembered.
“Good to know you like at least part of me.”
“Feeling sorry for yourself again?”
He scraped a spoonful out ice cream out of the carton. “Never let me get away with anything, do you?”
“Well, you know you’re attractive. All hot men know they are.”
He looked up from the carton. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, so you don’t know you’re rocking a six-pack or eight-pack or whatever is going on over there?”
“Would you like a better look?”
“No. I remember.”
He didn’t say anything, but that smile was back.
“Are you going to share?”
His lips twitched, but then he held out the spoon. I’m not sure what possessed me to lean in and accept it, but he watched me very carefully slide the creamy perfection off the spoon. I may have licked my lips a little more than necessary. Maybe.
The groan that left him made me smile back. It felt good to regain a more even footing with him.
