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"I could live in here." I sigh.
"I figure if the world ever starts to end, I could hunker down in here for a few months at least."
"You had better wait for me to get here before you lock the doors."
"Of course." He smiles. "Now, I'm thinking of making some French toast, a vegetable omelet, and smoked maple syrup turkey sausages. Does that sound good to you?"
"That sounds like heaven to me."
He walks out of the pantry, and I hear him getting things together while I stay in here, looking around. There's a little, or a lot, of everything in here. Pasta, beans, grains, candy, snacks, broths. We really could survive for a while in here. We? I shake my head. Let me get the hell out of here before my mind starts convincing me that we're gonna make this some kind of love bunker.
I sit at the island and get my phone out as Jackson cracks some eggs at the stove. After texting Lexa to ask what time she's going back up to the hospital, I go through random apps, pressing them, but not actually paying them any mind because how the hell can I when I have Jackson in front of me? How the hell can someone cooking be this damn sexy? The way he whisks the eggs, flips the French toast… every single thing he does makes me want to undress and lay on this island in the hopes that he’ll eat me for breakfast instead.
"I can feel you watching me," he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Is that a problem for you?" I tease.
"Not one bit. Not when it's you."
He looks at me over his shoulder, licking those perfect lips before focusing on the food again. He's so comfortable cooking, so at ease in the kitchen. It's clear to see that this is truly what he loves.
"Are you ready to have your mind blown?" he asks as he turns around.
He puts a plate in front of me and I look it over. As I expected, it looks amazing.
"Aren't you going to eat with me?" I question.
"I want to watch you take the first bite."
But apparently, I don't reach for my fork fast enough because he does it for me. He uses the side of the fork to cut off a piece of the French toast, then the omelet, and finally the sausage, until a bit of each is on the fork he's bringing toward my mouth. I open for him and don't miss the lust that flares in his eyes as I close my lips around the fork. Then I lose sight of his eyes as my own close with the taste on my tongue.
"Oh. My. God." I sigh each word.
When I open my eyes, it's to see him beaming. He finally gets his own plate and begins eating across from me. We talk about small things in between bites, and God, this feels a bit too normal. A bit too much like a morning I want to repeat again and again. Definitely tastes like a meal I want to be sitting right here eating with him again. But, I can't. I cannot. I can't have it, nor can I let myself want it.
"That was literally the best breakfast I have ever eaten," I say after I take my final bite.
"Thank you. Anytime you want it, you just let me know."
I ignore those words. I have to.
"How long do you think we've been awake for now?" I ask.
He chuckles. "At least twenty-four hours. Suddenly, I don't feel as tired as I did when we were leaving the hospital, though."
"Ah, yes. Exhausted, I believe you said. Except for when you want to cook and..."
My voice trails off as his smirk grows. I really walked right into that one.
"Go ahead. Ask me," he prods.
Don't. Don't.But clearly, my body is speaking for me today. "What else are you never too exhausted for?"
He leans across the island, bringing his face closer to mine. "To fuck. I am never,evertoo exhausted for that."
"Never?" I breathe.
"Never. Which is why you should run, little slut."
