She laughs breathlessly, the sound shaky but real. “I… I think so.”
Her words make me smile like a fool. I squeeze her ass gently, pressing her tighter against me. “Good. Because I can fuck you again when we wake up.”
Her laugh bubbles up, soft and surprised, and it’s the last sound I hear before her weight settles into me. Her laughter—light, unguarded—is what I take with me as I drift back to sleep, still buried deep inside her, still holding her like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had.
The washing machine beeps, that little obnoxious alarm that means the dryer’s cycle is finished. I grin to myself, rubbing a hand over my face as I pad barefoot across the kitchen linoleum toward the laundry nook.
Her clothes are warm and soft when I pull them out—folding them feels almost too intimate, but I do it anyway. I tuck the folded stack on the counter.
It feels right, having her things here.
The sink catches my eye. There are still a few remaining dishes that we never got to before…
The memory makes me smile as I roll my sleeves and get to work. Soap, hot water, the rhythmic scrape of sponge against porcelain. Domestic. Ordinary.
But my chest feels full doing it because it’s for her, for us, for this unexpected life that cracked open last night when she kissed me.
Once the last glass is drying on the rack, I decide on breakfast. Nothing too fancy—scrambled eggs, bacon, some toast. I grab a skillet, letting the bacon sizzle, the salty smell filling the apartment.
Eggs whisked with cream, poured into a pan that hisses when they hit the heat. I hum under my breath, the kind of morning rhythm I fall into when I’ve been up since dawn and I don’t mind it.
That’s when I hear her. Bare feet padding across the floor, the creak of my hallway floorboard.
“Boone?” Her voice is rough from sleep, husky, like velvet rubbed raw.
I glance up—and holy fuck.
She’s in my shirt. The black one I tossed over a chair last night. It hangs off one shoulder, skimming the tops of her thighs. Her hair is a mess, strands curling and falling into her face, her cheeks still flushed from sleep.
And damn, if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, then I’ve been living blind all these years.
She smirks when she sees my expression, then stretches. “I thought you promised me more sex when I woke up.”
The spatula nearly slips out of my hand. I laugh, shaking my head, crossing the space to kiss her before I can think better of it. Her lips taste like sleep, like last night, like Sadie.
“Sit down, greedy girl,” I murmur against her mouth, nipping her lower lip before pulling back. “Eat first. Then we’ll discuss negotiations.”
She rolls her eyes but does as I say, sliding onto one of the stools at my counter. “You did all this while I was sleeping? I feel bad.”
“You shouldn’t,” I say simply, plating up the eggs and bacon, sliding them in front of her. “You’re my guest. And…” I lean down, brushing a kiss against the side of her neck, unable to resist. “I liked doing it.”
Her breath hitches, but she hides it behind a sip of water. I grin, knowing I caught her off guard.
I settle on the stool beside her, pulling her onto my lap before she can protest. She squeaks, but then settles against me, warm and soft, her thighs brushing mine.
I fork up some eggs, offering her the first bite. She blushes, but she takes it.
“This is nice,” she admits softly. “Really nice.”
“Yeah.” My voice is low, because I’m thinking the same thing. More than nice. Fucking perfect.
We eat like that, her stealing bites off my plate, me sneaking kisses along her jaw between mouthfuls. Every now and then, I catch her studying me.
When the plates are scraped clean and pushed aside, I hold her tighter. “Last night,” I start, cautious.
She stiffens.
“Hey,” I murmur, rubbing slow circles on her hip until she relaxes. “I just… I want to make sure you’re okay. With everything. With me.”
