Page 49 of Dad Next Door

“Me too. My nana used to make the most incredible spiced apple pie with pecans and brown sugar. No one in my family can replicate it, even with her recipe.”

“That sounds good.”

“So good.” He picked up one of the fruit skewers and bit off a piece of pineapple.

My eyes were drawn to his throat as he chewed, then swallowed. Something deep in my gut tightened.

“Is it true that pineapple makes cum taste better?” he asked.

I snapped my gaze up to his face, which was filled with earnest curiosity.

“Is that not a thing?” he asked. “I thought it was a thing.”

“It’s a thing.” I picked up the other skewer. “But I think it’s more of an urban legend than a scientific fact.”

“So you didn’t eat pineapple before a shoot?”

“Nope. Cucumbers were my thing.”

“Cucumbers?”

Using my fork, I pulled a strawberry off the end of a fruit skewer. I held it up to Tristan. He looked at the berry, then cautiously parted his lips so I could feed it to him.

“The water content helps with load size and gives you a better money shot. I munched on a lot of cucumbers leading up to shoot days and when I was on set.”

“I know that’s not supposed to be funny.” He snickered. “But all I can see is a naked you sitting crisscross-applesauce on a bed, as happy as can be while crunching down on a giant English cucumber.”

“Make that a regular-sized cucumber, and that’s not entirely inaccurate.” This time, I used my fingers to pull a piece of melon free from the skewer. I held it up to him.

Tristan leaned in and took the fruit. The soft brush of his lips against my skin sent a crackle of awareness through me.

Dazedly, I brought my thumb to my mouth and sucked off a bit of juice that had been left behind.

Tristan’s breathing hitched, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from falling to his mouth as he licked his lips.

“Can I?” Tristan flicked his eyes to the skewer still clutched in my hand.

I nodded.

Time did something funny as Tristan pulled another strawberry off the skewer and held it out to me. Everything seemed slightly out of sync, like the world slowed while time sped up.

I leaned forward and took it, purposely letting my lips drag over his fingers.

He made a strangled sound, his ears as red as I’d ever seen them.

Tristan was good at putting on what he called his customer service mask, but his ears always gave away his true feelings. For some reason, I found that incredibly endearing.

Lost in whatever feedback loop we’d gotten trapped in, we finished off the fruit and chocolate and put the plate aside, still half full of cake pieces.

“Do you need a drink, or would you like to dance?” I asked, still not completely with it.

The line between acting and reality was a blurred mess, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

What I did know was that sitting still was only going to make it worse. I needed to move and do something so I could focus on getting back into character.

He looked out at the crowded dance floor, a wistful expression on his face.

“Tris?”