“Speak of it quickly, I grow impatient,” he replied, his voice again low and rough but in a different way and this way I felt between my legs.
“Okay. Then, here it is. I made chocolate chip cookies,” I announced.
His hands stopped roaming and he blinked. “Pardon?”
“Well, they’re more like chocolate chunk since you don’t have chocolate chips here and I had to bash some chocolate to make chunks and some of the shards got in the dough so they’re kind of chocolate, chocolate chip coo—”
I was babbling
Apollo heard it and interrupted me with, “Cease. Explain. Clearly.”
See?
Arrogant.
Also dictatorial.
Unfortunately, still hot.
Whatever.
I sat up away from him and he let me. “Okay. Do you know what cookies are?”
He shook his head.
“Cookies are like little cakes. Except moister, richer, yummier. And the ones I made are the most favorite of most anyone in my world.”
“And you made these today?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
His face changed, his hands slid back up my sides but did that pulling me to him again and his voice was very low and rough when he queried, “For me?”
I held his gaze and whispered. “Yes. For you. And also for you to take to Christophe and Élan.”
His entire frame stilled.
Oh boy.
Okay, see, I had a plan.
Earn their hearts through their stomachs.
They were kids. That would work. Right?
When he said nothing, I said haltingly, “I, well…thought I would give them, um…a bit of my world. The kind of bit kids in my world like. And they might, uh…enjoy that.”
“You’re coming to meet them.” It was a question said in a statement.
“Yes, maybe…” I pulled in a huge breath and finished on a question, “The day after tomorrow?”
“We will dine together,” he decided.
Shit.
Crap.
Shit.