And this, me staring at my fake boyfriend like a pathetic lunatic while he was sleeping, was why.

I rolled quietly out of bed, pulling on sweatpants and a shirt, then I snuck through to the kitchen to get some tea and make him some coffee.

I still felt like a jerk that I’d forced him to seek aftercare the night before because I wasn’t paying enough attention to recognize that he’d needed it. I’d been so focused on pushing him away for my own self-preservation that I’d missed his cues.

Just as I finished making his coffee, he appeared in the kitchen looking adorably disheveled and sleepy, wearing only his boxer briefs.

Goddess help me.

He looked entirely too comfortable in my kitchen in his underwear. Did he have to practice looking that relaxed or did he just automatically look like a Calvin Klein ad?

“I’m surprised you even own sweatpants,” he said by way of greeting. “It’s like I’m seeing you out of your armor.”

I handed the warm mug to him, butterflies erupting in my stomach when he gave me a crooked smile.

His expression shifted after he took a careful sip.

“How do you know how I like my coffee?” He looked more wary than pleased.

“I told you I pay attention to my clients’ preferences…” I teased, but his smile dropped.

“But I’ve never had coffee around you.”

“You’re right.” I sighed dramatically. “I’ve been stalking you for years. I’m secretly a superfan and I reverse engineered this whole agreement just to trap you. Drat, now you’re on to my dastardly plan.”

He actually paused for a second, making me realize just how insane his fame really was, but then he relaxed and rolled his eyes.

I nudged him with my hip. “I guessed. With that sweet tooth of yours, it seemed like a safe assumption that you take your sugar with a splash of coffee.”

“Thank you,” He leaned down to kiss me, the richness of the coffee lingering on his lips.

“I aim to please.”

We wandered back through to the bedroom so I could brush my teeth now that he was awake, and I pulled a new toothbrush out of a cabinet so he could do the same. It felt alarmingly domestic.

“What do you have going on today?” I asked as he started to retrieve his clothes.

“Meeting with my trainer to have him torture me for a few hours. I think you two would get along.” He grinned. “Then I have some phone calls and a script to look at, then I’m going to meet Chad at his office. What about you?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting with some TV people, but it’s been foisted upon me and I think I’m going to cancel. Ophelia was at an event with them and they were apparently talking about me, and she overheard, so she pitched me as Lady Elena: Sex Psychic. Now they want to talk about doing a reality show.”