Careful not to wake her, I slip out of bed and pull on my boxers. The floor creaks under my weight as I make my way to the kitchen, intent on surprising her with breakfast. I rummage through the fridge, finding eggs, milk. Some random vegetables. Tomato. Mushroom. And a bag of shredded cheese.
Omelets it is.
As I whisk, my mind drifts.
Last night was so fucking hot—but it was more than the physical connection. I’ve always been the guy who keeps things casual, never letting anyone get too close. But with Lucy, it’s different.
I pour the egg mixture into the heated pan, watching it sizzle. As I finish setting the table, I hear the soft padding of footsteps behind me. I turn to see Lucy standing in the doorway wearing my T-shirt, eyes still heavy with sleep.
Sexy as fuck.
“Morning,” I say, offering her a warm smile.
She looks at the table, then back at me, a surprised expression on her face. “You made us breakfast?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Figured it was the least I could do after ...”
“After fucking me three times?”
My eyes go as wide as my grin at her use of foul language. “You sore?”
“Yes, obviously.” She laughs. “I limped out of bed.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”
“What can I say? I like orgasms.” Lucy gives me a teasing glare, but her lips twitch like she’s fighting back a smile. “But I also think you should be held accountable for any damage.”
I raise a brow, leaning across the table and brushing her fingers with mine. “Accountable, huh? Should I apologize or double down?”
Her laughter bubbles again, filling the kitchen. “Oh, I think we both know you’d double down.”
“Guilty,” I admit. “But for now, breakfast and recovery.” I tilt my head. “After that? Who knows?”
She narrows her eyes, playful suspicion lacing her tone. “You planning on ruining me again?”
“Only if you ask nicely,” I tease, then take a bite of my omelet like I didn’t drop that line.
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t shy away. “I’ll think about it,” she says, her gaze dropping to her plate before flicking back up to mine. “In the meantime, what’s your day look like?”
I shrug, pretending to think. “No team building, no meetings. I could do whatever I want.” Although I should probably go get somemore logrolling in—the last thing I want to do is embarrass myself in front of the crowd.
Whatever. I’ll worry about that later.
“And what do you want?” She arches a brow, already knowing she’s the focus of that answer.
“You,” I say simply.
I lean back in my chair, watching her take another bite of her food. The way she’s so comfortable, sitting across from me in her blanket, with no makeup, hair still messy, has me wondering why this feels so easy.
Natural.
Like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
She shifts the focus. “So, what’s next for you after this team retreat?”
I finish my toast, brushing off my hands. “We head right back to work. It’s going to be a grind.”
“And after that? What does offseason look like?”
