Page 49 of Lying to the Boss

I run my hand gently up and down his arm until my eyes start to get heavy and I fall asleep.

My alarm goes off at the usual time. Despite going to sleep later than normal, I feel rested. The night comes back to me in little snippets as I enjoy a few more moments of the morning.

The peace wears off quickly when I turn over to see Tage—and he isn’t there.

Frowning, I sit up and look around the room. The bathroom door is open, the light off. He could be in there, but it’s unlikely.

Did he leave?

I throw the blankets off and go in search of him. I know where he is the moment I step into the hallway and hear clanking coming from downstairs.

Relief settles over me, and I use the bathroom before making my way downstairs and into the kitchen where Tage is standing over the stove, cooking something in a pan in nothing but the black briefs I put him to bed in.

“I don’t think there’s a better way to wake up,” I say.

He smiles at me over his shoulder. “I could think of something.”

“Yet you chose this.”

His cheeks turn a little pink, and he turns back to the stove.

I’m assuming he meant a blow job, which would have been nice, but this is a different kind of nice. And honestly, I prefer it over the blow job.

“What are you making?” I ask.

“Scrambled eggs. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” I kiss his cheek. “I don’t eat just yet, though. Will you be offended if I stick to my routine?”

He looks up at me with his brow pinched. “Offended? No. But your eggs will be cold.”

“I’ll reheat them,” I say, kissing his cheek again.

“So, you don’t have a hot maid that does this for you?” he asks.

“I’m fully capable of cooking and am actually pretty good at it.”

I start on my smoothie, asking if he wants one, to which he declines with a face that looks like he ate something sour. What’s wrong with kale in a smoothie?

“What does this routine of yours look like?” he questions when the blender is off.

“Smoothie. Work out. Shower. Breakfast.”

“Seems simple enough,” he says as he splits the eggs onto two plates. I take one and put it in the microwave. When I turn back, he’s standing there, scooping eggs into his mouth. “Can I watch?” he adds.

“The shower or the workout?”

He grins. “Both.”

I kiss the tip of his nose. “You can do whatever you want.”

I go upstairs and change quickly. He takes the last few bites of his eggs, puts the plate and fork in the sink, then follows me around the corner to my in-home gym. It’s very simple, with only the machines I need to stay in shape. I’m not trying to bulk up; I just want to be healthy. I’m not getting any younger.

Tage looks around in awe as we enter, like he’s never seen a gym before.

“I don’t think I’ve been in a gym since high school,” he comments. “All of this stuff looks so high-tech.”

Well, that explains his interest in everything. It’s not that he’s never been in a gym, it’s just that he hasn’t seen all this new equipment.