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Leo is making the pancakes in nothing but sweats, muscles and tattoos fully on display. He’s smiling ear to ear and singing softly off key. The show of domesticity takes me by surprise. I lean against the doorframe and watch him, just enjoying the sight.
This feels comfortable, and for the first time in forever, I feel happy. All it took was almost dying in a river.
He turns and catches me watching him, and his grin only grows. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
Leo places a plate of pancakes on the bar. “Breakfast?”
“It smells amazing.”
He snags me around the waist as I walk by, hauling me in for a kiss. “I like the way this looks on you.”
I bite his lip, and it does what I hope—unlocking the heat that’s always between us. I’m pressed against the counter in a second, the sweats he’s wearing doing nothing to hide how hard he is. Then he’s kissing my neck, and I’m dizzy with the scent of him everywhere. “The pancakes are going to get cold,” I manage to say.
“I don’t care.”
It takes all my willpower to push him away. “I care. You cooked me breakfast, I want to eat it while it’s still hot.”
They’re good too. Just like the chicken parmesan that we had last night was good. “I admit that you know your way around the kitchen,” I say.
“Damn right.”
I inhale the pancakes like they’re oxygen. It’s good that there aren’t more because I would eat those too. Leo is just watching me with a small smile on his face. “Do I have something on me?”
He laughs. “No, but I do have something to show you.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Nothing scary.” He rounds the counter to stand in front of me. “But I ran into the city this morning. For pancake stuff, and this.”
Suddenly I realize that there’s a box in one hand, and he’s sinking down onto one knee. “Oh.” My heart pounds in my ears and it feels like all the air in the room has disappeared.
“Diana Simmons, will you fake marry me?”
The ring he reveals is beautiful. A silver ring with swirling designs curling around a shining stone that catches all the light. It can’t be a diamond—no reason for it to be for a fake engagement—but in spite of that this feels incredibly real.
“Yes,” I manage to say, and he slips the ring on my finger. My stomach flips seeing it on my hand, just like when he treated me like his girlfriend yesterday. I like seeing his ring on my hand.
Last night with his parents was nice. I can see how they might not be the easiest people to live with or grow up with, but they were kind and seemed to warm up to me as the night went on. The more goodwill I can buy Leo, the better, and his mother will be happy to see me with a ring.
Leo seems to understand my silence, and when he stands and kisses me, it feels different. There’s a line here—I can feel it. Once we cross it, it’s not going to be easy to come back from, but I don’t care. I’m going to do it anyway. This whole thing with Leo, even pretending, is a taste of what I’ve wanted for so long that I’m desperate.
This feels bigger. Deeper. He lifts me off the stool and I wrap my legs around his hips as he carries me to the bedroom.
The first time we had sex he took it slow, but we forced it. All we wanted was to go faster. Leo’s lips on mine now are the kind of slow that is comfortable and effortless. It’s the kind of easy enjoyment that only happens between two people who have all the time in the world.
He eases my mouth open, tracing my tongue with his before pushing deeper. Everything that I have is wrapped up in this kiss.
We collapse together onto the bed, somehow a bundle of limbs and graceful slow motion all at once. My legs are still wrapped around his hips, lining us up exactly through the few clothes we’re wearing. Through his sweats I can feel him. Ready for me.
Leo grabs my wrists, pinning them to the bed as he devours my lips and then moves his mouth across my jaw and down to my neck. He leaves a trail of tingles and fire behind him, my body waking up like it was in a dream. It feels like I’ll never get enough of him.
“Why does this feel different?” I gasp, arching into him as he releases my hand only to slide his hand under his t-shirt. His t-shirt. Like I’m already his. And I’m wearing absolutely nothing to stop him.
My pussy is soaked, his fingers slipping inside me with ease. He doesn’t answer my question and I can’t push him for one because all I can think about is the light behind my eyes and the pleasure rising from his fingers.
