Emily breathed in the peanut aroma. “Peanut butter?” she questioned, her forehead wrinkled. “Hmm, I know we like to use whipped cream, but I don’t recall peanut butter, Blake. Are you confusing me with another woman?”
Gavin smirked, bringing his free hand up to the nape of her neck. He drew her face within inches of his. “Never. But you’re close, Miss Cooper, soon to be Mrs. Blake. I’d eat anything off your body that you know. You have my permission to consider yourself my own personal peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
Emily smiled. “What’s it from?”
“Damn you, woman,” Gavin laughed. “Maybe this will help.” He chucked the shell in her hair.
Emily reared back. “Did you just throw something into my hair?”
“Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?” Wishing Emily could see his monstrous smirk, Gavin leisurely rested his hands behind him on the rug. “My game. My rules. Deal with it.”
“You’ve lost it,” Emily pointed out with a giggle. After finding the spot the where peanut shell was buried, Emily plucked it from her hair and blindly shot it in the direction she hoped his face was in. It went rocketing over Gavin’s head and landed on the stone hearth of the fireplace. “The baseball game.” Emily beamed. Seeking his shoulders, she grabbed hold and yanked him back against her chest. “Though the game sucked because your Yankees beat my Birds, it’s a memory I’ll never forget.”
“They whipped their asses,” Gavin reminded her, pulling yet another memory from the bag. Emily sighed and shook her head. Smiling, Gavin figured this next memory would rouse her sense of touch, and he was pretty damn sure she’d know what it was the second she felt it. Reaching for her hand, he placed a bottle cap in her palm and watched her face immediately lit up.
“My favorite,” Emily whispered, kissing the cap. She leaned in to kiss whatever part of him her lips could find. Hitting just above his jaw, she smiled. “Bottle caps for life?”
“Always,” Gavin replied, guiding her lips to his. He kissed her tenderly, soaking in the fact his girl found such a small gesture so grand.
“Can I take the blindfold off now?” Emily nearly begged.
“Be patient, little one,” Gavin replied, retrieving the final two memories from the bag. Taste would be the next sense he’d spark. Gavin wondered if Emily would remember the conversation that sparked it all. “Open your mouth,” Gavin whispered, watching soberly as she parted her glorious, full lips. After peeling away the lid from a small container of creamer and tearing open a packet of sugar, Gavin poured both delicious contents onto her pink tongue. Before Gavin could take a breath, Emily somehow found his mouth. Their lips moved desperately over one another’s in a cream and sugar flavored kiss. Their tongues danced as one.
“I know what this is,” Emily purred.
“Do you?” He kissed her deeper as he maneuvered them up off the floor. Swooping her into his arms like a groom carrying his bride, he continued his delicious onslaught against her lips.
“I do, Mr. Cream and Sugar. Now I demand this blindfold comes off.” Her voice was husky, riddled with need, want, and desire as a result of the sweet torture he’d put her through.
Gavin did as she asked, slowly pulling away the blindfold. He watched her blink open her beautiful green eyes, the surprise in them immediately sending prickles of satisfaction over his skin. Her glorious gasp throttled his ears. “Welcome to our future.”
Feet dangling over Gavin’s forearms, Emily couldn’t decide which way to look as she took in her surroundings. Wood floors, polished to a shine, spanned the spacious living room. Its size made Gavin’s penthouse seem like a college dorm. Her gaze landed on the marble staircase, which split at the landing, situated in the middle of the foyer. Ceilings marked by exquisite crown molding soared over panoramic windows that showcased an in-ground pool in the backyard. Arched entryways dappled every direction.
Gavin carried her into a kitchen harvesting endless amounts of cream-colored granite. Stainless steel appliances fit for a master chef stood out among sleek cherry cabinets. Though unfurnished, the grandeur of the home spilled from one room into the next as Gavin whisked Emily in and out of a library, billiard room, and an office. It hit her, and Emily’s heart swelled. Gavin’s infamous twenty questions game, always including some odd bit of information concerning either a color, texture, or a design, was what made up their home. Their future. Pieces of her answers were scattered everywhere.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “I love every single sneaky, conniving inch of you.” She kissed him harder, deeper, needing to show him how thankful she was for him, for all he’d given her. “Take me back into the living room so I can make love to my shmexy fiancé.”