Chapter 23 #2
Tate lifted a round cake with fluffy white frosting covering all sides. On the top was a mix of sliced strawberries and what looked like little bites of cheesecake.
Biting back a laugh, I looked up at him. “Strawberry cheesecake?”
“Yup.”
“Was that flavor hard for you to buy?”
He grinned. “A little bit.”
“I thought it was too sweet for you.”
“Way too sweet,” he said, wrinkling his nose in a way that had me melting onto the floor. His eyes shifted up to mine. “But I’m getting kind of used to it.”
I held his gaze too long. Tingles erupted down my spine, and I had to look away. Tate got two forks and a deck of cards from the kitchen, handing me a fork while he sat down and began shuffling.
“Plate?” I asked, my mouth already salivating.
He tilted back in his chair, eyeing me with a gleam I knew well. “Not so fast. We’re going to play for it.”
“Play for it?”
“When you win, you get a bite.”
“You don’t want any cake?” I asked, giving him a teasing smile.
“Oh, I’ll get cake.” He smiled.
“What’s the catch?”
“The loser has to feed the other person.”
I stilled as visions of Tate spoon-feeding me cake left me feeling slightly breathless. Unless, of course… that never happened.
“How good are you at speed?” I asked, suddenly curious about his card shark abilities. I’d only played Luke.
He began dealing the cards. “You worried you’ll be feeding me cake all night?”
My stomach lurched. Or I could be feeding him. I hadn’t thought about that one. I wasn’t sure which would be worse on me. Probably whatever version means I don’t get to eat the cake.
“Are you sure you want to watch me eat cake all night?”
He laughed, picking up five cards for his hand and organizing the cards we’d both be utilizing on the table. “I can think of worse things.” He motioned toward the stack of cards sitting in front of me. “Quit stalling, Walker.”
My hand paused over my cards.
I looked to see him watching me, his gaze steady and searching, like he was gauging my reaction.
“You just called me Walker,” I said.
“Did I?” His brow furrowed, but there was humor in his gaze.
“Pretty bold move for a temporary husband,” I said, my breath caught in my chest.
“Just thought I’d try it out.”
It was the low rumble of his voice that had goosebumps breaking out onto my skin. Thankfully, he took pity on me and, with some amusement, nodded toward my cards.
“You ready?”
It took some time before I could lose myself in the game.
My thoughts were completely scattered. Across the table from me, Tate seemed as focused as ever.
Speed wasn’t a game for slow players. You had to be quick to lay down your cards.
Tate’s ability to focus under pressure was a shining star right now.
When he had only two cards left to get rid of before he won the game, I resorted to other measures.
“For someone who hates delicious cake flavors, you’re sure trying hard to win.”
He shook his head. “Nah. I haven’t been trying hard at all.”
I laughed, stepping on his toe beneath the table. He dodged my advances and trapped both of my feet beneath his, warming my bare toes and sending waves of heat up my spine.
And then he kept them there for the next play.
So, basically, he was ruthless. When we started up again, his last two cards were played before I could blink.
“I won,” he said proudly, handing me a fork. “I might have to amend my flavor bashing. This could be the best cake I’ve ever had.”
I forked out a big piece of the middle, the white vanilla cake infused with cream cheese frosting and strawberries, and I looked at him, somewhat cheerily.
He saw it in my eyes before I could put my plan into action.
“And if that cake goes anywhere but in my mouth, you have to clean it up.” A smile lit his face as I gathered his meaning.
A laugh bubbled out of me as I leaned closer, lifting the cake toward his lips, trying hard not to overthink my actions, but his eyes were on mine, and it was making my movements shaky.
Or maybe it was him.
“If you move and try to make me miss, you have to clean up yourself,” I warned, making him laugh before I shoved the bite into his mouth.
We went on like this for a while. I lost the first couple of games but then hit a winning streak with four in a row.
“Alright, one more game. It’s getting too sweet,” Tate said, leaning back in his chair. “I should have bought a chocolate one too.”
“‘Cause more sugar is always the answer.”
He grinned. “Glad we agree.”
“Winner takes all?” I asked.
“Winner takes all,” he confirmed.
The cards were dealt. The smack talk was smacking.
And I, Liv Rawlins Walk—Liv Rawlins—won.
“So how many wins was that for me?” I asked, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. “Seven? Eight?”
He was smiling as he loaded up the fork before turning toward me. We’d gotten the rhythm of this down by now. I opened up my mouth as he maneuvered closer. But just before the fork met my lips, it moved to the left, leaving a streak of frosting across my cheek.
I gasped, moving my hand to my cheek.
“Oops,” Tate said.
He didn’t look sorry. And I told him so.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said.
He pushed back from the table and rounded it, his movements unhurried, almost as if time had slowed. When he stopped in front of me, he held out his hand.
I swallowed. Every instinct told me accepting it was a terrible idea.
I slipped my hand into his anyway.
He drew me to my feet, never breaking eye contact. Then, with agonizing slowness, he closed the distance between us until I was pressed against him. My breath caught as tension hummed in the narrow space separating us, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could feel it.
Somewhere in the background, his phone buzzed on the table.
We paid it no mind.
Standing at the edge of the table, wrapped completely in his arms with my palms resting against his chest, his lips brushed the corner of my mouth.
A quiet gasp escaped me. Another kiss. Then another.
Slowly, he traced the shape of my lips with his until he fully captured them.
His kiss was everywhere and all at once. My breath caught as his thumbs brushed lightly along my ribcage. The warmth of him, the strength of his arms around me, the way he held me like I was something worth protecting—it all blurred together until the world around us disappeared.
Suddenly, Tate pulled back with hooded eyes, his troubled gaze roaming my face. He’d opened his mouth to speak when the startling sound of shattering glass to our left tore through our quiet moment like a scream in the night.