“What? No fish sandwiches?” I said.
“Quite a disappointment, I’m sure.”
“Any coffee?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I can’t function without it.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“Watch yourself.”
He smirked. “Don’t need to, you already were.”
I blushed, but couldn’t keep myself from smiling. He poured a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice and set it before me. As he did, his gaze lingered on me and I flushed, feeling exposed. He had a way of looking at me like he knew what I looked like naked. Like he’d fucked me thoroughly the night before and he was proud of it.
“Can I have pancakes too?” I asked, clearing my throat.
“Needy this morning. What’s wrong with what I made?”
“Nothing,” I shrugged. “I just want pancakes too.”
“I had a feeling you were a bit spoiled growing up,” he said. “I happened to bring it up on the phone with Lucien the other day and he confirmed it. I suppose you’re used to just getting whatever you request for breakfast?”
I narrowed my gaze at him for a moment and then decided not to be offended. I didn’t care if he was right and my parents had spoiled me. At least I’d had loving parents for the first fifteen years of my life. That was more than most children in the outfit got and I was proud of how my parents had raised me.
I tossed my hair back. “Your point?”
He laughed quietly. “Fine, I’ll make you pancakes.”
Satisfied, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs under the counter and watched as he poured mix into a bowl. He was absorbed in what he was doing, the sunlight catching his light brown hair through the window. I was lucky, I supposed—I could have been married off to a man I wasn’t attracted to at all. Yes, I’d been forced into marriage, but I did have a husband who sent tingles through my body and made heat pool between my thighs.
“Blueberries?” he said, pausing with the fridge door open.
“Chocolate chips, please,” I said.
“Hmm, no, I don’t like chocolate,” he said, taking out a pint of blueberries.
I gaped at him, horrified. “What?”
“I don’t like chocolate.” He shrugged. “What’s the matter with that?”
“You’re a monster.”
“Not the first time I’ve been told that.”
“I’ll need a divorce,” I said, drawing myself up.
He raised an eyebrow. “Fuck, no. I’m not letting you go now.”
My stomach tingled and flipped and heat rose up my neck. I drew myself up, eager to change the subject. “Fine, I’ll take blueberries in the pancakes then.”
A few minutes later he laid a plate of fluffy pancakes dotted with blueberries, crispy bacon, and fried eggs in front of me. I’d half expected his breakfast to turn out horribly—he didn’t seem like the sort of man who spent his time learning how to cook. But it looked and smelled amazing.
It was another thing about him that surprised me.
He leaned on the counter, his presence filling the space between us, and watched as I took a forkful of pancake and put it on my tongue. It was good, very good. When I looked up, he was gazing down at me with a faint smirk on his lips, one brow raised.
“Does that satisfy you, princess?”
Something about the way he said that word sent a shiver up my spine and made me squirm in my chair. I took my time chewing and gathered my thoughts even though my heart was pattering against my ribs.