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Dixon is lounging on a seat, appearing deep in thought as he looks out into the vast openness. The sky has a light pink hue, but the darkness still governs the heavens.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” he replies, not turning around.
A half bottle of wine and a glass sits on the small circular table, so I reach for the goblet and take a seat next to Dixon. As I peer over the solid stone balcony, I gasp. The crest of dawn is on the horizon, spreading a sheet of warm radiance over the picture-perfect landscape.
“It’s so beautiful,” I say, unable to hide my awe.
“It is.” When he slowly turns to look at me, his sultry gaze scans down my body. “However, I’ve just seen something more beautiful.”
“T-Thank you.” I’m always so nervous when he looks at me this way. I can barely breathe. His lopsided smirk reveals he knows it, too.
“Are you tired?”
“A little,” I confess. “I might call it a night or morning soon. How about you?”
He gazes out over the balcony. “I think I might stay up and watch the sunrise. It’s not too far off.” His calming, gentle tone has me stifling an unexpected yawn behind my hand. “Go to bed. I won’t be too far behind.”
Looking down at my untouched wine, I know if I take one sip of the fruity nectar, I’ll be out for the count in seconds. “Okay.” I stand and stretch, taking one last look at the spectacular countryside before me.
Dixon glances up and rewards me with a soft smile. “Good night,angelo.”
Just like it does every time he uses that pet name for me, my entire body melts and I have to smother my moan. He doesn’t realize how much it means to me because this term of endearment erases out any others, others that I never wanted.
With that thought in mind, I place my glass on the table and surprise Dixon as I lower myself into his lap. He opens his arms, and I nestle low, turning my head to look at the sight in front of us. “I think I’d like to watch the sunrise, too.” He tightens his arms around me but doesn’t say a word. We’re both silent, neither of us needing to speak.
As my eyes slip shut, I can’t help but think that this right here, right now, is everything I could ever wish for and more.
I wake to the smell of coffee.
My foggy brain plays catch-up, and as I feel the satin sheets underneath my fingertips, I realize I’m cocooned in our glorious bed. I don’t remember getting here, and that’s because I was sound asleep when Dixon put me in here. I recall seeing about five seconds of the sun mounting over the hills, but then I’m pretty sure I blacked out and was out like a light.
Looking at the bedside clock beside me, I see that it’s almost 1 p.m. As I stretch out my lax muscles, I decide to go in search of that delightful smell. I slip on my robe and attempt to tame my snarled hair, but I give up when another smell, one of a sugary, syrupy sweetness kind, wafts up the stairs. I practically leap down them and run into the kitchen, not bothering to hide my excitement.
However, I stop dead in my tracks when I’m confronted with Dixon’s muscled bare back as he flips pancakes on the stovetop. His blue jeans sit low on his narrow waist, revealing two perfect butt dimples above his firm ass. As he turns to the side to reach for a plate, the sunlight streaming in from the window highlights his tattoo. He really is a sight for sore eyes.
“Good morning,” he says, not bothering to turn around.
I jolt, his husky voice snapping me from my very depraved thoughts. My heavy breathing must have given me away. Clearing my throat, I walk over to the kitchen counter and take a seat. “Morning.”
He throws me a wink over his shoulder. “I hope you’re hungry because I’ve made enough food to feed a small starving nation.”
Giggling, I sit up tall to look over his shoulder. He’s right. The enormous stack of pancakes sitting on the counter beside him resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “One can never have too many pancakes,” I say, wanting to show my appreciation.
He laughs and serves us a small feast while I look at every topping, filling, and condiment sitting in front of me. Reaching for the syrup and berries, I lick my lips when Dixon places mybreakfast in front of me. I tuck my hair behind my ears as I lean forward and take a big sniff. It smells…interesting.
“I hope it tastes okay.” I look up to see him watching me nervously.
“It’ll taste amazing,” I confirm, pouring a decent helping of syrup over my mountain of food.
Dixon pours us a cup of coffee while I scatter some mixed berries onto my plate. Reaching for my silverware, I cut into the gluey, uncooked dough and try not to giggle when it sticks to my fork. As I take a bite, I try not to blanch because Dixon is gauging my response closely.
“It’s bad, right?” he says, placing the cup of coffee in front of me.
“No, it’s great,” I lie around a mouthful of food. I eye the coffee, very tempted to pour it over my meal to balance out the sweetness. When I take another bite, I fear my teeth might disintegrate in my mouth. “Yum.”
“Okay, stop.” Dixon grins and swipes my plate out from under me.
