Page 281 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“What happened to teamwork?” She leans forward, eyeing the spatula like she’s about to grab it.
“I know your first instinct was to dip your finger in the frosting.”
“You can’t blame me, it looks delicious.”
I shake my head. “You can’t fool me. I know what you planned to do with that icing.”
She brings her hands under her chin. “Do you, now?”
“We’re not having a honey repeat. I’m trying to save these bathrobes.”
Her lips press together, jutting out in a perfect, exaggerated pout. It’s the kind of pout that makes her look both sulky and cute.
“Imagine trying to clean the chocolate icing out of these white robes.” She reaches for the cake, but I swat her hand away. “Fine. I’ll let you have your frosting fantasy.”
I grunt and let the icing fall onto the top of the cake, thick and slow from the spatula.
“What would be your cleaning strategy for chocolate-smeared robes?” Her finger dives into the bowl of icing.
I press the knife into the frosting, smoothing it to the edges, having a hard time finding the words while knowing that finger is going back in the warmth of her mouth.
“I’d rinse it with cold water to keep it from setting,” she says, her tongue licking the tip of her finger, eyes paying no attention to me. “Then maybe dab it with some dish soap or baking soda if it’s really bad.” Her tongue runs up her finger.
Bloody fucking hell.
My fingers clench the handle.
“Or do you think white vinegar would work better?” Her finger disappears in her mouth, and I forget what the hell I’m supposed to be doing.
Is it hotter because she isn’t paying attention to me and is so utterly engrossed in the icing?
When her eyes land on me, all the teasing is gone, and she stares like she doesn’t realize she just made the simple act of eating icing more erotic than anything I’ve ever seen—and I have a long list to compare to.
“What?” The innocence on her face nearly undoes me.
“All good ideas,” I shoot out, before I dip her fingers in the icing and lick it off. “But you’re making it more complicated than it needs to be.” I drag the knife across the top of the cake. “Start with a cold water rinse, and then treat the stain with a properstain remover and let it sit for about ten minutes. After that, wash it gently on a warm, delicate cycle and air dry. No heat until you’re sure the stain’s gone.” The words rush out of me.
When she says nothing, I glance at her.
She stares at me.
“That was hotter than I expected. If I were wearing underwear, they would be soaked.”
I choke.
She laughs.
And before she can say anything else, I grab the silk table runner I found in a cupboard and circle the table toward her.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes flick to the green material sliding through my fingers.
“Close your eyes.”
Her smile widens. She shifts in her seat to face me, closing her eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”
I chuckle.
“Get these robes dirty.”
