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I reach for an egg when something catches the corner of my eye. My head snaps towards her.

Of all the things she could’ve picked up, she ends up holding the largest knife in the kitchen.

Fantastic.

“No, baby.” I murmur, forcing my voice to stay even as I take a slow step towards her.

Her gaze remains fixed on the blade, distant and unreadable.

“We’re not using that today. Eggs don’t require this much commitment.”

She doesn’t argue, simply letting me close the distance. I wrap my hand around the handle, carefully easing it from her fingers before setting it well out of her reach.

“There we go.”

She gives the smallest nod, her lashes fluttering innocently as she looks at me.

A faint smile finds its way onto my face before I can stop it.

Fucking hell, I want to kiss her again.

She’s a raging storm, she’s a quiet moment, and I crave them both with equal desperation.

I was fucking amused when she kicked me in the nuts— not the action, by the way, the spirit.

I like that she fights me. I like that she argues with me and doesn’t back down from a fight. But I like it the most when she innocently blinks at me, when she smiles at me.

That bloody smile.

She could ask me to do the most heinous things with nothing more than that smile, and I’d do them without hesitation.

They wouldn’t even seem heinous anymore if the reward waiting at the end of it was seeing her smile at me again.

“I’m going to make pancakes.” I say, my voice lingering as my hands move animatedly with every pointless fact I ramble about pancakes. “And no touching anything sharp.” I add, placing particular emphasis on anything. And she nods obediently.

Fuck, she’s adorable.

Me—Sergei, who doesn’t usually bother filling silence— reduced to full-time chronic chatterer because every time I blurt out another useless fact, she listens attentively, like it’s the most important thing she’s heard all day.

So, I keep going. Explaining the basics as I move, cracking the egg, mixing the batter, pouring it onto the pan. I spread Nutella, cover it, flip it, and repeat.

Her eyes stay on me the entire time, wide, curious and dare I say, almost admiring?

She drowns in my voice, and I find myself sinking just as easily into her eyes. Her lashes are long, almost golden, blending into her hair like they belong to the same light.

I keep her occupied, keeping it casual, handing her the pan, asking her to flip the pancake.

She glances at me, a little uncertain, a little curious…then she flips it. Or tries to.

Like the pervert I am, I stand behind her, placing my hands on her waist and pull her closer to me.

She stills only for a second, forcing me to rethink my actions.

I’m an arsehole who’s taking advantage of her and decide to step back, but she leans her head on my chest.

Still an arsehole, but I’m not letting her go.

“I’m here, solnyshko.” I murmur next to her cheek, wanting to lick her so badly, I could eat her all and still be starving.