My eyelids are suddenly heavy as Nate slips under the sheet next to me. He pulls me towards him until I’m snuggled as close as humanly possible at his side. His skin is so warm and his body so hard, yet it’s the most comfortable place I’ve ever been. I feel secure and protected within his embrace.
Nate runs his hand across my forehead, moving my bangs, as he lures me into sleep. The feel of his breath against my skin and the comfort of his arms wrapped tightly around me is the last thing I feel before drifting off into a deep, restful sleep.
*****
The smell of bacon and coffee wakes me from the best night of sleep I’ve ever had. Muscles I didn’t even know existed are screaming their protest as I stretch against the cool sheets. The other side of the mattress where Nate slept mere hours ago is vacant, but the smells coming from the kitchen tell me he isn’t too far away.
My mind fills with memories of Nate waking me up in the very early morning. He was gentle as he worshiped my body, bringing me to orgasm no less than twice that time, too. My body is singing as I climb out of bed and reach for a shirt. Nate’s shirt from last night is thrown on the end of the bed along with all of the clothes we were both wearing yesterday, so I slide the big shirt over my head and walk into the hall to the bathroom. The shirt still smells deliciously like Nate. It’s all musky and rich with just a hint of sweat. I can’t help but run my nose along the cotton material as I inhale deeply yet again.
After using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I head out to the kitchen to see what kind of deliciousness Nate has cooked up. My stomach growls loudly as I turn the corner and stop dead in my tracks. The sight before me is so damn sexy that I can’t even laugh at how comical it is.
Nate stands at my stove, frying bacon, and wearing nothing but my white apron. And I mean nothing but my apron. The ties are wrapped around his lean waist and tied around his amazing lower back. Muscles move and strain as he works the tongs, flipping the bacon.
Nate’s back is a-freaking-mazing! There is no other word to describe it. I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. I had no clue that definition and muscles like that existed. The tribal designed tattoo spread across his shoulder blades is dark with hard lines and looks so astounding stretched across his taut muscles.
But the muscles of his ass are what hold my attention right now. I wish I had a quarter because I’m pretty sure I could bounce it off his rear and get some serious air. Below his butt are the most well-defined, muscled thighs and calves I’ve ever seen. They scream power as he stands there in front of my stove.
I will never be able to wear that apron again. The mental image I will carry with me for the rest of my life of Nate wearing it this morning is something I will never, ever forget. It’ll be one of the happiest memories I will cherish as I continue to move from place to place, searching for the life I know is out there. One that makes me feel safe and sound. One that is so very close to how I feel with Nate.
He moves towards the skillet, grabs the spatula, and flips what appears to be French toast. I have died and gone to heaven. I don’t know when it happened, but there is no way this is actually happening in real life.
“Hey,” he says with a huge grin and sparkling eyes, breaking me from the trance of my private thoughts.
“Huh?” I ask, wondering how long he’s been talking to me and I’ve been staring at his bare ass.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks with another hint of laughter.
“I never thought my apron would look so good,” I reply with pinked cheeks.
“Well, bacon grease isn’t something you want splattering in this region,” he says waving a hand at his white apron covered package. A package that is thickening and saluting me before my lust-filled eyes.
“Breakfast first, beautiful,” Nate says with a smirk, drawing my gaze back up to his handsome face.
“Are you sure?” I ask, walking towards him and stopping right in front of him. I run my hands up his bare chest and along his well defined shoulders.
Nate clears his throat before replying, “Yes. You need food.” He leans forward and kisses me square on the lips. “And energy for what’s going to happen as soon as I take my shirt back,” he says with a wink.
I haven’t had anyone cook for me in nine months. Not since Gretchen, the housekeeper and cook. Technically, she was mine because I lived in the house, but nothing ever felt like it truly belonged to me. And I definitely didn’t get to make any decisions on anything.
Nate lays the platter of hot French toast on the table. I quickly grab two plates, forks, and coffee mugs from the cabinets and set them on the small table. The bacon is placed on the table, and I can’t help but sneak a piece from the heaping pile. Nate fills the two cups with hot coffee, and we both sit. I splash a little milk in my cup, more to help cool it off faster than anything else. We both dive in like we haven’t seen food in days. Nate can do some serious damage to half a dozen pieces of French toast and a mountain of bacon. I guess it takes a lot of fuel to keep that body going.