She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Cocky.”
“Only when I’ve earned it.”
I grab a pair of boxers, jeans, and a plain tee, catching the way her eyes settle on me before she quickly looks back at her phone, totally pretending not to sneak a peek. I shake my head with a chuckle and head back into the bathroom, changing quickly and trying not to think too hard about the girl in my bed wearing my shirt and absolutely nothing else underneath it.
Gentleman, remember? Gentleman.
I rake a hand through my hair and step back into the room, fully dressed and trying like hell to look composed. “Feel free to use the shower and help yourself to whatever you need in the bathroom.” I gesture toward the en suite, my tone casual, though my mind is already running wild with all the things I could do with her in there. “I’ll get the food started. Come down whenever you’re ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fuck.
Two little words, and they nearly level me. Her voice is all sugar laced with mischief, and it lands like a sucker punch to every muscle in my body—especially the one currently doing all the thinking. My brain flatlines. Blood rushes south so fast I see stars.
I cock a brow, trying to play it cool, like I’m not seconds away from begging her to say it again. “You calling me sir now?”
She shrugs, all false wide-eyed innocence. That shirt of mine hangs dangerously off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin I could spend the rest of my life kissing. “I’m just following orders. You’re the one in charge, right?”
Christ.
My frayed self-control is hanging by a thread, and she’sstanding there with the scissors, one finger on the blade, smiling like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I shift, trying to ease the pressure in my jeans, and bite back a groan. “You keep saying things like that, and breakfast’s gonna be very delayed.”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Sunshine,” I mutter, voice rougher than I mean for it to be. “Get that perky arse ready and come downstairs.”
I turn before I do anything extremely ungentlemanly, like toss her back in the bed and make her say it again.
Preferably while not wearing anything at all.
“Fine,” she calls after me. “But only because I’m feeling generous!”
I make my way downstairs, scanning the kitchen for what I’ve got to work with. By the time she makes her way down, what started as a simple bacon and eggs situation has somehow morphed into a full-on brunch feast. I might’ve gotten a little carried away, but whatever. It looks damn good.
When she walks in, she lets out a little gasp. “Oh my gosh, this looks amazing! I figured you’d offer some burnt toast or something.”
I clutch my chest dramatically. “You’ve cut me deep, lass. My culinary skills are a work of art, and here you are, insulting them like that. I might never recover.”
She bursts out laughing. “Oh, come on. I’m just giving you a hard time. Seriously, this looks like it belongs in a fancy café, not a kitchen that could probably double as a war zone.”
The counter is covered in plates of golden French toast stacked high, dusted with powdered sugar. There’s thick-cut bacon, scrambled eggs with chives and cheddar, and fresh berries tossed in a bowl.
“All made in twenty minutes,” I say. “Impressed yet?”
She just blinks at me. “Are you secretly auditioning to be someone’s husband?”
I grin. “Careful now. You keep this up, and I’ll start charging you for brunch. It’s gourmet, after all.”
“I’ll take my chances.” She pops a berry into her mouth, eyes fluttering shut when she lets out a moan. And I am not okay.
I grip the edge of the counter.
God help me.
“Well, you’ve been warned.” I step back, giving her a slow, teasing bow. “I’ll be accepting payment in the form of compliments…or, if you’re feeling generous, maybe something a little more creative.”
