“So I see.” He laid her phone on the island and leaned in to brush a kiss over her lips. Since they were still parted with shock, he slipped his tongue inside for a quick taste before pulling back. “Let’s try this again. Morning, beautiful.”

“Morning,” she sighed, a sheepish smile curving her mouth. “Sorry.”

The quick taste hadn’t been enough, so he leaned in for another. “Are you always this jumpy in the morning?”

“Not usually,” she breathed, rising on her toes to press her lips more firmly to his. “Mmm. You’re sweaty.”

“And you’re wearing my shirt.” He lifted a hand to toy with the button holding it together over her breasts. “Did I say you could wear my shirt?”

“No.” She shivered against him. “Want it back?”

He started to say yes—they could go over last night after sex—then a low, rumbling gurgle filled the air.

He pulled back to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “Was that your stomach?”

Her cheeks didn’t turn pink, but if ‘blush’ was an expression, she was wearing it. “I’m hungry.”

“I guess so,” he replied, and resigned to having blue balls at least through breakfast, dropped one last kiss on her mouth. “What’re you making?”

“I was planning on pancakes,” she said when he stepped back. “But I can make do with a bowl of cereal.”

Amused at her hopeful tone, and at the way her gaze lingered on his bare, sweaty torso, he moved back to the other side of the island and chose a stool. “Eager little victim, aren’t you?”

She aimed a pointed glance at the front of his shorts, which were clinging to his eager dick like plastic wrap. “If I’m eager, what are you?”

“In charge,” he said. “Fuel now, fuck later.”

“Fine.” She pulled out a skillet and set it on the burner with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” he replied, bemused that she’d managed to get the question out before he did. “You?”

“I slept great.” She smiled at him—well, at his chest, she was still staring—and began to gather the ingredients scattered across the counter. “Your bed is really comfortable.”

“It’s not too firm for you?” He liked a hard mattress, and a lot of his bed partners found it great for fucking, not so great for sleeping. The bed in the guest room was much softer, with a plush pillow top, so he’d expected her to have some trouble with his firmer one.

She shook her head, tucking spices back into the cabinet. “When I went to buy my bed, I told the salesperson to give me the hardest mattress they had. They kept trying to talk me out of it.”