I looked up at him to see him looking down at me.

And did it make me a freak I could stand there, claimed by him, gazing up into those steely blues for the rest of my life?

“He came to the studio with me today.”

Axl’s dark brows shot up. “You worked in the studio?”

I shook my head. “First, I rehearsed. One of my routines tonight has some tricky lighting, so I had to go through it with the lighting guys.”

Axl shifted us around and started walking us, attached, to the kitchen, saying, “And?”

“Then, well…I’m feeling the bug. Got something in my head. I had to go to the studio to check materials. And I found what I knew I’d find. I needed to make an order. So no, I didn’t work. But I’m going to get back to it once my order comes in.”

“Mm,” he hummed, detaching from me in the kitchen and pulling a stool from the wall that had a chrome base and footrest and black leather seat with back.

The only stool of its kind in the kitchen, but it was kickass.

He adjusted it to a place by a counter where it looked like he was making a salad and then shifted me so I knew he wanted me to climb up, which I did.

Once I was there, he moved to a cupboard, opened it, and I saw upside-down hanging wineglasses.

He commandeered one—awesome, wide-bowled and tall. He came back to the counter where the salad prep was happening, and I saw there was another wineglass there, filled with red. Not to mention the bottle.

He nabbed the bottle, poured and handed the glass to me.

“So what else did you do today?” he asked, picking up a knife and going back to cutting cucumber.

Okay.

Um.

Okay.

Was all that just…awesome?

“Hattie?” he called.

“Remind me, if I get a chance, and I’m home before you’re home, to be equally awesome with you.”

His expression changed, and apparently he liked what I said so much, he felt it needed to be communicated beyond that change.

So he put the knife down, came right to me in a way I had to open my knees so he could get between them. Once there, he took my jaw in both hands, and yeah.

That time we went at it.

When we broke off the makeout session, I was minimally panting, Axl was all I could see, and I was in no doubt he liked what I’d said.

“So, good day?” he asked.

A giggle erupted from me and I answered, “Yeah. And it keeps getting better.”

His eyes glittered with icy-blue goodness before he slid his hands away and went back to cucumbers.

I took a sip of my (excellent) wine and inquired, “How was your day? Or can I ask that?”