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I lean up onto my elbow, and hope fills me as I smile over at him in the darkness. His dark hair, big eyelashes, and kissable pouty lips. Out of all the men I’ve ever met in my life, Henley James is the one I compare everyone else to.
He’s the set point.
The last few weeks have been a nightmare—for both of us, I now know.
But he’s here with me, revealing his vulnerability and declaring his love.
It’s weird. In reality, we hardly know each other, but our attraction is so deep that it’s cellular. It’s as if my body was always his, as if he was always meant to be mine. He has this special ingredient. Every whispered word, every touch means so much more than it should.
I let out a big yawn and know I need to get some sleep. I roll onto my side, facing away from him, and his hand comes out and pulls me back to be snug against his body, still asleep. He kisses my shoulder blade, and I feel his manhood against my behind, the warmth from his skin.
I smile into my pillow. I think maybe . . . it’s going to be okay.
Chapter 23
I wake to a familiar scent permeating my bedroom, and I frown. What is that?
Pancakes.
Huh? My eyes snap open. What’s happening right now? Has someone broken in to make me food?
I’ve never even woken up with Henley before, let alone had him cook me breakfast. I jump out of bed, throw on my robe, and go in search of my man.
I find him in the kitchen, standing over the frying pan, a tea towel slung over his shoulder as he concentrates. I lean against the doorjamb for a moment and watch him. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and pajama bottoms, and as he flips the pancakes I can see the muscles in his shoulders contract underneath his shirt.
So fucking hot.
He glances up, sees me, and gives me a slow sexy smile. “Good morning, my sweet Juliet.”
His sweet Juliet . . . has there ever been a more swoony good morning in the history of life?
I don’t think so.
I smile goofily. “Good morning, Henley.”
He walks over and puts the spatula down to my sex and flips air.
“What are you doing?” I laugh as I swat him away.
“Flipping my breakfast. What does it look like?”
“You want it done both sides?”
“Only the best are flipped both sides.” He smiles against my lips as he kisses me.
“What are you doing here, Mr. James?” We kiss again as his hands slide up underneath my robe.
“Putting in the effort.” He winks.
“Oh, breakfast is your effort?”
He bends me over backward. “Once you taste these pancakes . . . you’re never going to let me go.” He bites my neck, and I laugh and try to escape him.
Who said I was ever going to let you go?
“Behave.” He stands me up. “My pancakes are burning.” He goes back to flipping them over.
“I’ve got an idea,” I say as I watch him.
