Page 28 of Headed for Home

As if listening, Drake’s attention returns to the stove. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Just making yourself at home, huh?”

“It felt right,” he croons. “The goal was to serve you in bed. Here will have to do. Plans are meant to be rearranged, right?”

“Um… I guess?” That’s not how the phrase typically goes, but it does remind me that he didn’t leave.

The swoop in my belly is uncalled for. Drake should be long gone by now. That’s what I expected. But I can’t ignore the giddy flutters that take flight seeing him in my space like he belongs.

He turns off the burner and plates an oversized omelet. The smell of melted cheese and fried onions has my stomach growling. But then I get a peek at his apron.

Written across the front in bold letters is the wordVagitarian. There’s a definition scribbled underneath but he turns away before I can read the whole thing. Something about frequently dining between her thighs. I’m still trying to digest what he’s wearing while he pours a cup of coffee. The words are a blur as he strides back to me.

Without spilling a drop, Drake hoists me onto the island and kisses me from the stupor. “Good morning, beauty.”

“Morning,” I mumble absently. I accept the steaming mug while my thoughts swirl. “Where did you get that?”

“This old thing?” He tugs at the strap around his neck. “I found it in your pantry.”

“What?” I sputter. “No way.”

“Must’ve been a forgotten gift,” he muses.

“There’s not a chance you found that in my house.” Unless it belonged to my grandma, which would add another twist entirely.

The sparkle in Drake’s gaze brightens. “Ah, you caught me. The apron is mine.”

I’m laughing hard enough to shed tears. “And you conveniently had it in your truck?”

“Optimism is its own reward.” He steps into the space between my parted legs.

Somehow, I missed the tented fabric until he bumps against me. “Oh, wow. Is there a pony hiding under there or does my kitchen excite you?”

His lips brush over mine. “Ignore that. He’s always preening for you.”

Once again, sandalwood teases my nostrils. “I can’t have sausage for breakfast?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Drake warns.

I hook my knees to his sides, hauling him closer. “As if you didn’t see this coming.”

“The food will get cold.” But his voice already wavers.

“We can do two things at once.” I sip at my coffee before setting it aside. “For the sake of time management.”

Drake’s palms roam up my thighs, lifting the hem of my shirt. The coarse scrape of his calluses chafe my skin in a zing. “I’ll cook for you more often if this is the response I get.”

“It’s been a very long time since someone made me a meal in my own home. I’ll admit that it’s very… disarming.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm, and we shouldn’t waste your efforts.” The omelet is waiting for recognition and I spear a piece with the fork. “Can I feed you?”

“Ladies first.” He snags the food to reverse our roles while simultaneously whipping the apron barrier out from between us. “And I’ll pleasure more than your taste buds.”

My lips part automatically to accept the extended bite. Savory flavors burst on my tongue. “Ohhhh, that’s delicious.”

His gaze heats when I moan. “Surprised?”

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