Page 148 of The Temporary Bride

“Happy to serve,” I murmur against the wetness of her pussy. “I’ll wake you up like this every day for the rest of our lives if you want.”

I bring her right to the edge of an orgasm and keep her there until she’s properly awake and gripping my hair with both hands. Then I let her come. She lets out a keening cry as her back arches, her thighs pressing against my head.

But I don’t stop.

By the time I’m satisfied, she’s come three times and is lying limp on the mattress, gasping like she’s just run a marathon.

I kiss my way back up her body and find her mouth, and she makes a sound when she tastes herself on my tongue. Her hands come up to my face.

“Beep, beep, beep,” I intone against her lips, mimicking an alarm clock.

She laughs, my favorite sound in the entire world. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you yet.”

I nip her lip. “You were thinking it.”

She laughs again. I pull her up and off the bed and steer her toward the bathroom, and she leans into me as I get the shower running, testing the temperature with my hand until it’s right. We step in together, and she tips her head back into the water. I watch the water run through her hair and think about how I get to have this every morning, and how I almost threw it all away.

I wash her hair for her, working my fingers through it, and when she makes a sound that’s not entirely different from the sounds she made ten minutes ago in bed, my cock starts to harden again immediately.

She chuckles, reaches back to wrap her hand around my shaft, and I groan and press her forward against the tile.

I fuck her slowly in the shower, her hands flat against the wall, the water running hot over both of us. We’ve got nowhere to be for a while yet, and I can’t think of a better way to spend the morning. When she comes, her cries bounce off the hard tile, and I follow her a few seconds later, my forehead dropping to the back of her neck.

We stay like that for a heartbeat, the water running over us, before I reach past her and turn it off. I pull out and help her clean up, then we dry off, get dressed, and head downstairs together.

As we reach the ground floor, I pull her close for a quick, lingering kiss before getting started on breakfast. I fucking love feeding her—there’s something about it that feels almost as good as any grand gesture. She seems to enjoy even my most mediocre attempts at cooking, which is a small miracle in itself.

In the kitchen, I put on an apron, something I rarely wear but find oddly comforting as I dive into the task. I’ve got a few simple dishes planned, including scrambled eggs and avocado toast. Nothing extravagant, but I’m determined to make it just right. I want every detail to be perfect, even if it’s just breakfast.

While I start to prep, Chloe sits at the counter, sipping tea from an oversized mug. Her legs are tucked beneath her, and she looks relaxed, her eyes bright. I steal glances at her while I work.

I crack eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a bit of milk and seasoning. While the toast is in the toaster, I slice and mash the avocado with a bit of lemon juice and seasoning.

Chloe watches me with an amused smile, her mug cupped in her hands. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the apron before.”

I glance over with a grin. “Ah. It’s my secret weapon.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she says with a wink.

When breakfast is finished, I present it to her with a flourish. As I set the plates in front of her, the simple food looks surprisingly elegant. The eggs are perfectly cooked, and the avocado toast is arranged with a sprinkle of red pepper flakes and a dash of sea salt.

“Voila,” I announce with a playful bow. “Your breakfast, as promised.”

Chloe hums in appreciation, then reaches up to kiss me on the cheek before digging in. She takes her first bite, savoring the flavors. After a moment, she looks up with a satisfied smile. “It’s really good.”

“It’s all because of the apron,” I tell her, grabbing my own plate and piling on eggs.

We sit together at the counter, enjoying our breakfast. The conversation stalls for a moment as we both savor the food. There’s a comfortable silence between us.

Chloe takes another sip of her tea, her gaze soft and relaxed. I reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, and she gives me a smile in return.

As I’m taking my last bites, Chloe sits back, her own plate empty. She finishes her tea in a single swallow.

“What’s the rush?” I ask. “You look like you’re about to run out the door.”