Page 134 of Hot As Ice

He’s been gone for only about an hour, yet it feels like forever.

I’m trying to be patient, but I feel so restless. After reading the same damn sentence three times, I get the bright idea to make pasta and the sauce to go with it, even though I have never attempted making pasta sauce in my life. But I need a challenge, a massive distraction, and a book is not cutting it.

I put my book down and head into the kitchen, scrolling my phone for a simple marinara sauce recipe. Hunter’s fridge is always stocked, and anyway, how hard can it be? The sauce is mostly going to be made of tomatoes.

In fact, the recipe calls for canned tomatoes and tomato paste, so I don’t even have to chop up a bunch of fresh tomatoes, or whatever I thought marinara sauce entailed. Hunter has both ingredients in his pantry. Because of course he does. His housekeeper wouldn’t have it any other way.

After blending most of the ingredients in the food processor, I chop up an onion and cook it slowly in oil over medium heat. Then I stir in the blended portion and add half a cup of white wine. Dare I say it, it is blissfully distracting doing all this. And for once, I’ll be the one making dinner. I think Hunter will appreciate it.

It’s fascinating how much he’s softened toward me.

When I think back to our beginning, he was kind of a jerk. Now, he’s a total teddy bear, except when he’s tying me up and busting out the nipple clamps. He’s definitely still rough and dirty during sex, but he never does anything I don’t 100% consent to. I’ve never had to use our safe word, and I probably never will.

I let the sauce simmer, stirring occasionally, and thinking about how far Hunter and I have come. I want to tell him that I love him, but is it too soon? Sometimes there are these quiet moments between us, and the words are right on the tip of my tongue. But I always end up swallowing them.

I think if I say it and he doesn’t say it back to me, I might never recover.

But I’m so butt-crazy in love with him that the words will burst from my lips sooner rather than later. I just know it.

The sauce is ready, so I go back to the pantry to grab some pasta. I’m debating which pasta shape to choose (I love farfalle, but Hunter hates it) when I hear the front door opening. I step out of the pantry just as Hunter says, “What’s that amazing smell?”

“I made marinara sauce!”

Hunter rounds the corner into the kitchen and my heart skips a beat. I rush over and cling to him. He hugs me back, one of his hands in my hair, and we just hold each other like that for a minute. “I missed you,” I mumble against his sweater.

“I’m here.”

I slowly pull away and look up into his perfect face. “How did it go?”

He shrugs, stepping back and walking over to the stove. He sniffs the sauce I made. “Why did you decide to make pasta sauce?”

“I was stressed.”

He looks at me and grins. “You’re the cutest thing in the world.”

“Baby.”

He sighs. “It didn’t go well. But I’m glad I told him. I think my grandfather still can’t accept the truth about my father. He’s enabled my father his entire life. It’s…like a reflex at this point. I don’t know what it will take.”

“What will you do now?”

“I have to figure something else out. But my grandfather’s help would’ve been really useful.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe he’ll come around. Maybe he needs some time to process everything you said.”

Hunter grabs a wooden spoon and stirs the marinara sauce. “Maybe,” he concedes. He tastes some of the sauce off the spoon and groans. “Mmm, this is really good, princess.”

“Really? Should I take over cooking duties?”

He gives me a look. “Cooking for you is my thing.”

I sidle up to his side and put my head on his shoulder. “Well, what am I supposed to do for you?”

“You do plenty.”

“Like what?!”

He chuckles. “You make me come like nobody else has ever made me come. Is that good enough for you?”