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“Sorry to wake you,” he said. “But I’m starving.”
“I find I am too.”
“I wanted to make some breakfast but figured if I was going to cook something I should see what you liked or wanted.”
Her heart was fluttering. “You’re going to make me breakfast?”
“I need to eat too,” he said.
They were supposed to be keeping this light and friendly, and though this conversation was, there was part of this situation that was rather domestic to her too.
“I’m not really fussy so whatever you are making I’ll have too. Coffee is a must,” she said.
“I wasn’t sure if you drank it,” he said. “I’ve never seen you walking around with a cup in your hand like so many do. How do you like it?”
“Cream if you’ve got it, if not, maybe milk and some sugar?”
“I’ve got cream,” he said.
“We drink our coffee the same?” she asked, finding that funny. She pictured him the type to drink it black and dark.
“Is that a problem that I like some cream in my coffee?” he said, grinning at her.
“No. Just that we don’t know those things about each other but yet found out a bunch of things last night.”
“We did,” he said. “I put your bag on the chair for you. Hope that was okay.”
She glanced over and saw her purse and bag on the chair in his room. Last night after her second orgasm, though she was exhausted, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome and said she should probably leave.
He’d told her he didn’t see the need unless she wanted to. It was the next day anyway and if she left then, he could get another taste of her once he got a nap in.
She’d thought it was funny and admitted that she planned and had a bag in her car but didn’t want to assume. It was sweet he went out and got it for her.
“That’s fine,” she said.
He stood there leaning on the doorframe as if he was almost challenging her to get out of bed naked. She wasn’t sure why she was so self-conscious of this and decided to throw the covers back and strut to the chair and then take a shower.
The minute she was standing, he grinned at her. “I’ll go get your coffee and start breakfast while you shower if you want.”
“Thanks,” she said. He moved out of the doorway before she had her bag in her hand and she went into the bathroom to clean up as quickly as she could.
The bathroom was just as stunning as the rest of his house she was seeing in the light of day now.
She turned the shower on and then went to the bathroom. The water was nice and hot by the time she stepped in. No reason to wash her hair. She’d tied it up before she got in anyway.
She grabbed his soap, something strong and fresh and not at all like her soft citrus-smelling one she used. It’d get the job done though.
She hurried up and got out once she was rinsed off and grabbed a towel that he’d had close by on a rack. She should have hunted one out of the closet but wouldn’t walk on the floor and drip water everywhere now.
When she was in the kitchen she smelled bacon and cinnamon. “Yum,” she said. “Are you making me French toast?”
He poured her a cup of coffee from a pot. She noticed that it made single cups too but since he refilled his own cup, she didn’t care.
The creamer was out of the fridge and in his hand. Nothing fancy or sweet like vanilla or something different. Just plain old cream and she was totally fine with that too.
“I am making French toast. Happy New Year, by the way.”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “But we did say it to each other last night too.”
