Her voice was ragged and rough, and I fucking adored it.
“Morning, baby girl. Sore?” I asked.
I knew she was biting her lip as she nodded.
I chuckled, “K. I’ll eat you to help.”
And then I moved.
She giggled.
***
After we cleaned up, I pressed a kiss on the top of her head and said, “Gotta shave, baby.”
She winked, “K. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
I watched that ass in my boxers and an oversized sweater on her frame as she walked out of the bathroom.
But not before I caught her stopping at one of the bouquets, leaning down, inhaling the flowers, and touching the petals with a soft smile on her face.
And no, I didn’t miss it when she brushed a tear away from her cheek.
It took me about ten minutes to shave.
Then I left the bathroom.
At the sight of her standing in the kitchen in front of the stove cooking for us, I had to lean against the archway at the mouth of the hall to stop myself from stalking to her, twisting her, bending her over the island, and making love to her.
Soon.
“What are you making me, baby?” I asked.
She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled, “Belgian Waffles.”
I winked, “Sounds good, baby.”
After she made us breakfast, I asked, “Plans?”
She shook her head, “Clear schedule. You?”
I winked. “Got something at the club later, but I’m free for a while.”
She nodded, then she plated the food.
Damn, but she could cook.
I frowned as I ate my last bite and wanted more.
She giggled, then forked another helping of the waffles onto my plate.
I grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, then I got back to eating.
And yes... we argued over who was going to do the dishes.
Nine times out of ten she was going to win, but not this time. “Remember what I said, baby?”
She growled.
