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“Yeah, I want to just be with you. I don’t want outside drama. I don’t want us to worry about what’s going on with Bianchi. I don’t want to think about the danger you’re in. I want to get to know you outside of the havoc, Rosie.” He pushes the cart by the bed and sits down, the mattress dipping from his weight. He looks at me as if I’m the stars dancing around the moon—completely hypnotized. “Does that sound okay?”
“It sounds perfect. I’d love that, but how will we watch TV? You don’t have one in here.”
He snorts, reaching for a remote on his nightstand and he presses a button. A humming sound comes from in front of us. From the ceiling, a large screen lowers until it nearly touches the floor. It takes up the entire wall.
“Woah,” I say in awe, staring at the largest screen I’ve ever seen in a house. It’s like being in your own personal movie theater. “I didn’t know they made screens this big unless it was for the theater.”
“They don’t. I had to order this custom. It isn’t something you can find in stores.” He pours a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar how I like before handing me the cup.
I inhale the aroma and already my mind awakens and the heaviness of wanting to go back to the sleep vanishes. Sipping it, I hum. “Wow, this is delicious.”
“French press. It doesn’t get better than that.”
“What other goodies do you have over there?” I mumble, the smell of food making my stomach grumble.
If I’m not mistaken, a faint pink hue fevers his cheeks. “I might have gotten a little of everything. We have your breakfast foods. Waffles, bacon, strawberries, whipped cream, eggs. Then French toast because who doesn’t love French toast?” he points to ever platter. “And then bagels, but then I thought maybe she’d want lunch, so down below I have a few hoagies, salad, burgers, and then at the very bottom snacks like popcorn and candy for the movies.”
“You thought of everything,” I say, setting my coffee down.
“I meant it when I said I don’t want to leave this bed today. Matias is in charge, and I told them to pretend I don’t exist. We are in our own world today.”
I hold the blanket against my chest, trying to think about the last time someone did something so nice for me. My brother stealing the gem could count. He was thinking about our family, but in a more intimate gesture, no one has done anything like this for me.
“So, what would the Mrs. like?” he asks as he makes his own coffee.
The title makes me nibble on my bottom lip. “French toast with whipped cream and strawberries sound good. Oh, and bacon. I love bacon. Do we have syrup? And then after, I might have a bagel.”
He raises his brows, then chuckles. He stabs the toast with a fork and puts it on a fresh plate. “I guess we’ve worked up an appetite, haven’t we?” his voice darkens, and he drops a dollop of whipped cream in the middle, then adds a few slices of strawberries. His eyes slide from the plate to meet mine and he sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth to lick the whipped cream off.
How is such a simple, innocent gesture so sinful?
“We did,” I agree, memories from last night and this morning flip through my mind.
All of his filthy words, everything he ever said, how he sounded when he came, my entire body responds to him. I’m heated and ready for him again.
“You can’t fool me. I know what you’re thinking about.” He grabs a small silver container that looks like a mini teapot.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I huff.
“Oh? I suppose I’m the only one thinking about how we ravaged one another last night? Tell me when,” he warns lightly, pouring the syrup on my French toast.
He keeps pouring, the liquid pooling so much that he begins to look at me with concern.
“Okay. You can stop,” I say, my mouth watering when I see all that delicious syrup.
“Tesoro,” he tsks. “This isn’t healthy. We’re going to have to cut down on the sweets.”
I take the plate from him and stab the side of my fork. “You try that, and I might just kill you.” I shove a big chunk of French toast in my mouth and the syrup is so heavy, it dribbles down my chin. I keep my mouth shut and my cheeks full as I smile at him.
“You’re an absolute wreck.” He swipes his thumb over my chin, gathering the syrup. “My wreck, nevertheless.” He sucks his thumb into his mouth, and I have to focus on my food before I end up tossing it to the side to have my way with him.
He makes himself a bagel, waffle, and adds eggs to his plate. “What do you want to watch while we eat?”
“Let’s watch scary movies all day.”
“Scary movies? I’d think you’d want something lighter considering everything going on right now.”
“That’s different. I want to watch classics with you.” I finish off one piece of toast and dive into the other, but not before munching down on a piece of bacon.
