16. Chapter Sixteen

Rose

It's late afternoon and I have an idea of something I want to do later. My face heats and I feel myself blushing to the roots of my hair. If Rip notices, perhaps he'll think it's because I got too much sun today rather than that I'm thinking filthy, dirty things that I want to do with him.

I remind myself that's a crazy part of my upbringing. Sex isn't dirty. Not with someone you like. And how could I not have affection for Rip? He's the best man I've ever met—bar none. And it doesn't hurt that he's so sexy, and handsome, and has the most amazing muscles rippling on his stomach.

Which is why I need to find a fun way to pass the time while I work up my nerve to do the most brazen thing I've ever considered.

"As soon as we clean up, I thought we could get things dirty again by baking something. Anything you're hankering for after a century of sleep?"

I said that lightly, but it still boggles my mind that he's slept since 1911.

"Oh, a black and white."

He said that with yearning, as though a black and white—whatever that is—was an old lover. If he likes it that much, I'm definitely down to make it.

I grab my phone, happy to see it's a great day for cell service, and research how to make the cookie. The recipe is one of those irritatingly long ones that tells you the entire history of every ingredient before you get to the recipe itself. The whole time I'm scrolling to the bottom of the irritating recipe, I'm hoping I'll get to the directions before the cell service gives out.

"It looks like the black and white is still the quintessential New York baked good, aside from cheesecake, although I"ve never heard of it. Let"s give it a try."

After I measure the dry ingredients into the bowl, Rip grabs a container of sour cream out of the fridge.

"Sour cream? Really?"

Rip just grins and adds half the carton to the bowl.

"You"ll see," he says with a wink.

He begins beating the mixture by hand, but I shake my head, waggle my finger, and say, "You"re never going to believe what somebody invented for this."

After grabbing the avocado green mixer from the back of a shelf, I can"t believe my luck when I find the beaters in a drawer. I make an exaggerated fist pump when the thing whirs to life.

"Knock yourself out." I hand it to him with a smile.

"Wonders never cease," he says as he mixes the ingredients with his newfangled toy.

By the time the ingredients are thoroughly blended, my mouth is already watering. Rip scoops the dough into mounds onto two baking sheets and puts them in the oven.

While the black and whites bake, I watch Rip move around the kitchen with a certain grace and ease. I could stare at him for hours, although that"s what"s on the menu for later tonight—if I have any say in the matter.

Finally, the timer dings and I pull the cookies out of the oven. They smell amazing and I can hardly wait to try them.

When Rip grabs the spatula and begins to pry the cookies off the sheet, I playfully slap his hand.

"Didn"t your mother teach you to let them cool before you take them off the cookie sheet? Otherwise, they smoosh."

"See? This is why we"re great together. You"re the yin to my yang… or is it the other way around?"

He immediately looks sheepish, as if he overstepped.

"Potato, potahto, who cares, mister?" I hate that he sometimes acts as though he's offended me. Maybe genteel women spent half their lives acting offended a hundred years ago. To smooth the waters, I give his hand a playful slap with the plastic spatula and scold, "You"re going to wait until they"re cool."

This gives me an idea.

"You have such an amazing voice, Rip. Let"s sing a few songs while we wait. It will be an extension of today"s lesson in popular culture."

I launch into "Eye of the Tiger," and he joins in, although his version is "Eye of the Spider." "Hey Jude," becomes "Hey Dude," and "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go"becomes "Wake Me Up Before You Cocoa." He even grabs the container of cocoa that's still on the counter and dances with it like it's a comedy routine.

I have a feeling after his first accidental mistake, his mix-ups became more outrageous on purpose just to make me laugh. We're having so much fun, we almost forget about the cookies.

Eventually, our laughing ends and we sing the chorus to "My Wild Irish Rose," with me singing alto and Rip singing tenor. Our voices entwine, creating harmony that's beautiful even when it's slightly off-key.

We make quick work of the frosting portion of the adventure, still singing and occasionally bumping hips in time with the music.

When I look at our finished products, I feel a pang of discomfort. Instead of looking like the ones on the Internet and having perfect lines where the black and white frosting meets in the middle, they're jumbled and messy.

My mom's voice is scolding me in the back of my mind until I glance at Rip, who's smiling indulgently at me.

"Who said they had to look perfect?" I announce forcefully. "And why did I scold you for wanting to taste them while they were warm?"

I grab one, step closer, and lift it to his lips. "Tell me what you think," I say, fully expecting him to finally taste the darn thing.

He shakes his head. "Nope. Together."

The cookies are meant to be huge. The recipe said they should be a full four and a half inches in diameter. It's easy for us to lean toward each other with me gripping one side of the cookie and him gripping the other. Both of us take a bite out of the middle, getting the perfect combo of chocolate and vanilla at the same time.

The frosting is still gooey, and when we step back, both of us have some on our lips.

The fun moment morphs into something different, something more, something serious.

At the same moment, we realize what's happening and pull away, both staring wide-eyed. My heart is thumping and my lips pop open in the slightest gasp as desire skitters through me, setting my senses on fire.

"Rose," Rip breathes, and I can see the intensity in his eyes.

Before I can even process what's happening, he takes a step closer and crashes his lips onto mine. His arms wrap around me and tug me close.

Everything else fades away, like I'm in a vacuum with only him, his kiss, his touch, his piercing gaze.

We break away for a moment, gasping for air, but soon our lips are clashing again, this time with even more passion and heat. He's chocolate and vanilla and pure elemental heat. How can his lips be soft and insistent at the same time?

He nibbles and plucks with his lips as his arm surrounds my waist and tucks me closer. His other hand is sliding through my hair as he murmurs, "So soft. Rose, like spun silk."

When he releases a breath, it's shaky and filled with passion.

It's as though I've never been kissed before, like Rip is teaching me a whole new language of physical desire. And I'm a willing student.

I keep my eyes open for a moment, taking his inventory: electric blue eyes shining so hot it's as though he has a fever and a perfect nose even though it looks as though it was broken once. His lips part, perhaps to shower me with more praise, but he thinks better of it and leans closer to consume me with hot, desperate kisses.

His tongue sweeps into my mouth with a groan even as his hips grind against me. Does he even know he's doing it? I don't care as long as he never stops.

His hands roam my back, pulling me even closer until our bodies are flush. My fingers explore the hard, muscular lines of his back through his shirt. It only makes me want him more.

Suddenly, he pulls away, a look of confusion and fear in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rose, I didn't mean to…"

But before he can finish his sentence, I lean forward and press my lips onto his once again, silencing his apologies.

My body feels as though it's on fire as Rip's tongue delves into my mouth, his fingers trailing up and down my back.

As he pulls back, I can see the longing in his eyes, the raw emotion we both feel.

"I've been waiting for you, Rose," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "It's been so long, so many years…"

I nod, feeling the same way. It's as if we've always known each other, like we were meant to be together. As though we were waiting for the stars and planets and the heavens to align so we could have the perfection of this moment.

The taste of the black and white cookies is forgotten. The kitchen is a blur of passion and desire. As we break apart, I'm both breathless and desperate for more. Placing my hands on Rip's chest, I feel his heartbeat pounding beneath my fingers.

How did this happen? How in the span of so few days did I develop such a powerful attraction? No. That's the wrong question. How did I develop such deep affection?

They're all stupid questions. The time for questions is over. I don't wonder about my emotions anymore. They're facts, carved in stone. I care deeply for this man who waited a century to find me.

"I feel it too," I murmur, my lips so close they're almost touching his. "It's as if we've always known each other."

He nods, his eyes filled with emotion as he takes me into his arms once more. We kiss passionately, our bodies entwined, and I feel as though I'm finally living the life I was meant to live.

As we continue kissing, Rip's hands trail down my back, over my hips, and then down to my thighs. He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the couch.

He sets me down gently, his hands never leaving my body as he continues the kiss which was never broken. I moan softly, my fingers tangling in his long, caramel-colored hair as our passion ignites once more.

My body has never felt like this, like it"s on fire and needs to be quenched. I"m frightened and out of my depth and absolutely positively don"t want to stop.

Heat is flowing through my veins and pooling between my thighs. My nipples are hard, throbbing points, desperate for attention.

Finally, he pulls away, his gaze locking with mine.

"This is fast," he says.

"I know."

"The plan was to give you time."

I nod. "I may have been sheltered, but I know a thing or two. I don"t think I"m ready for everything, but I"m ready for more."

Up to now, I thought I"d seen him in all his moods and knew his best angle in the best light, but the knowing smile he gives me blows all of that away. There"s no other description than devastatingly handsome to describe the sexy way his glance eats me up.

"Perfect. I know just what the doctor ordered, pretty Rose."