The bacon was starting to crisp, the smell intensifying, and I should have been flipping the strips and monitoring the heat, but my eyes followed Harlow. She moved to the other side of the kitchen, reaching up to grab plates from the top shelf. The stretch made the t-shirt ride up again, exposing the curve of herwaist, the edge of her underwear. Her hair was still messy from sleep.
I abandoned the bacon.
Two steps and I was behind her, my hands finding her waist, pulling her back against my chest. She made a surprised sound that turned into a laugh as I buried my face in the curve of her neck.
“Owen…”
“Shh.” I pressed a kiss to the spot just below her ear, and she shivered. “I’m appreciating.”
I moved down the column of her throat, slow and deliberate, my hands sliding up her sides beneath the hem of the shirt. Her skin was warm from sleep, soft against my palms. She tilted her head back against my shoulder, giving me better access.
“You’re going to burn the bacon,” she murmured, but she wasn’t pulling away.
“Worth it.”
“That’s very irresponsible.”
“I’m a very irresponsible person.” Another kiss, this one at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “Have you met me?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Ouch.” I bit gently at her earlobe. “Mean.”
“You love it.”
I did. I really, really did.
“You look beautiful this morning,” I breathed against her skin. “You look beautiful every morning, but especially this one. In my shirt. In my kitchen. Making breakfast with me like…” I cut myself off before I could say something embarrassing like the rest of our lives.
But she must have heard it anyway, because she turned in my arms, her hands coming up to rest on my chest. Her eyes were soft, searching my face.
“Like what?”
“Like this is where you belong.”
A smile spread across her face, and my chest tightened.
She was so beautiful.
I cupped her face in my hands, tilting her chin up, and kissed her.
She melted into me, her fingers curling into the waistband of my boxer briefs, pulling me closer. I walked her backward until her hips hit the counter and lifted her onto the granite. She gasped against my mouth, her legs wrapping around my waist.
“The bacon,” she breathed.
“Fuck the bacon.”
I kissed her harder, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her thigh. The smell of cooking bacon filled the room, probably burning at this point, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything except the way she was pressed against me, the way her nails were scratching lightly down my back, the way…
She pulled away from me.
I blinked, disoriented, watching as all the color drained from her face. Her expression shifted from flushed and wanting to something else, pale, almost green, her eyes going wide.
“Har? What’s…”
She didn’t answer. She just shoved at my chest, hard enough to make me stumble back, and scrambled off the counter. Then she was running, bare feet slapping against the floor as she bolted toward the bathroom.
I stood there for half a second, my brain trying to catch up with what just happened.
