Sunday morning at Ethan's was a warm, golden blur of quiet laughter, tangled sheets, and the cozy scent of breakfast in bed.
Ethan had woken early, slipping from our bed like a dream to prepare breakfast just for us. The night had been…perfect, and the way he was looking at me now as he brought in the tray—like I was the only thing he'd ever wanted—made me feel giddy inside.
He was grinning as he set the tray down, sliding beside me in bed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers lingered, his touch soft but electrifying. "Hungry?" he asked with a teasing smile, reaching for a forkful of strawberries.
I took a bite, smiling up at him. "Famished."
Last night. Just the thought made me blush.
I'd finally gotten my way, slipping into the slinky lingerie I'd bought on the day I was kidnapped and mentally preparing for a night without interruptions.
Ethan's face softened as he fed me another bite, his eyes crinkling as he saw the color rise to my cheeks.
