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This need to protect her tonight was overwhelming. I have to keep her safe. It’s one thing for my father’s will to chain us together and another for my sins to do so. My world shouldn’t touch her life, no matter what my father caused me to do.
We’re very quiet as we tiptoe into the kitchen, and I take her to a secret freezer hidden behind a cabinet door in the butler’s pantry.
I browse through our flavor options. “Chef has a personal stash here.”
I grab one of his pre-scooped jars, filled with homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream, and collect two spoons from a drawer.
“Taste it,” I demand.
She takes the spoon out of my hand, dips it into the ice cream, and swallows.
An honest-to-God, full-on moan escapes her mouth this time.
Dammit all to hell.
That moan.
That will haunt me for the rest of the night.
Then she fucking licks her lips. I watch the movement. Track it with hungry eyes.
Great. Just fucking great.
I find myself taking a step closer, a moth to a flame.
She has ice cream on her lip, and I need to taste it.
I know I shouldn’t.
I can’t help it.
Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches forward.
I close the distance.
My body is almost touching hers.
I lean closer, my hand touching her lips.
She stops breathing for a second.
Then I wipe the ice cream.
She exhales, her chest heaving, and she moves a step closer.
I want to kiss her.
My lips hover over hers.
We are so close I can feel her exhale.
“Why are you making a mess in my kitchen?” Chef shouts.
And just like that, the moment is ruined.
I remember who I’m standing with.
I remember why I shouldn’t do this.
