She’d put on the dress shirt he’d worn the night before. The wrinkled hem hung to mid-thigh, the curve of her ass pressing against the soft cotton as she stretched forward to pour water into the coffee pot. There was a covered bowl on the back of the counter, and ingredients scattered over the island, so he assumed she was making breakfast. He hadn’t added meal prep or any other domestic chores to her list of daily tasks, because she had a job outside of being his submissive and because he was a grown man who knew how to take care of himself. But he might make a rule that if she was going to cook, she had to do it in one of his shirts.

He’d woken up tangled in her hair, his nose buried in the back of her neck, and the urge to fuck her then and there had been almost impossible to ignore. He knew that somnophilia was something she enjoyed—being taken advantage of while she was asleep, and therefore vulnerable, was a particular turn-on for her. It flipped his switches as well, and he would definitely be availing himself of her while she was sleeping in the future.

But last night’s scene had been a heavy one—though physically lighter than many of the fantasies they’d discussed—and while she’d seemed fine, he wanted to give both of them time to settle before jumping into another scene. So he’d forced himself out of bed, and got his blood moving with a quick workout instead of a quick fuck.

But now her back was turned, and the borrowed shirt was climbing up the backs of her thighs while she fiddled with the coffee maker. His cock, having subsided during his workout, rose insistently in his shorts.

He ignored it, and the urge to come up behind her and push her to the floor, and crossed the kitchen. She’d braided her hair, baring her neck, so he bent to press his lips to her soft skin. “Morning, beautiful,” he said just before his lips made contact.

Then he jerked back, quick reflexes saving him from a broken nose when her head snapped back. Her shrill scream was still ringing in the air when he caught her cell phone just before it landed in the sink.

She spun around, her eyes wide and wild. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, no coffee for you,” he decided, and held out her phone. “You dropped this.”

She ignored it, one hand braced on the counter behind her, the other pressed to her chest. Her eyes were like saucers, her pulse pounding in her throat. “You scared the crap out of me.”