Chapter 39 Breakfast in Bed
I wake at 6:00 a.m, habit more than choice, and lie still for a minute, listening to Scarlett breathe beside me.
She's deeply asleep, lying on her side, one arm flung across my chest like she's marking her territory even in dreams.
Taking it off me gently, I slip out of bed, not wanting to wake her.
I move quietly through the penthouse and straight to the kitchen, which is already prepped (I had the grocery service deliver everything last night after she fell asleep.) No chef today. This part I want to do myself.
I don't cook often. Work has always been the priority. But with her here in my space, and now my girlfriend, I want to make time.
I want her to wake up to something real, something I made with my own hands.
Whistling a tune, I start breakfast, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them with cream and chives. Then, I pour it into the pan.
The thick-cut bacon goes next, frying lightly till it's crisp, not burnt.
Sourdough follows in the toaster. And after it comes out in that perfectly golden shade, I butter and drizzle it with honey.
Next, I rinse out the berries and pour them into a glass bowl.
Once the main dish is done, I turn my attention to making her favourite type of coffee—Ethiopian single-origin, ground fresh.
The whole process takes about forty-five minutes, long enough for the sun to start creeping over the skyline, but not so long that the food gets cold.
I plate it all on the breakfast tray and carry it back to the bedroom.
Scarlett's just starting to stir, stretching her lithe body, a soft, sleepy sound leaving her mouth.
Setting the tray on the nightstand, I lean down to kiss her temple.
"Morning," I murmur, brushing away some hair from her face.
She blinks up at me, disoriented for a second, before smiling lazily. "You're up early."
"Had things to do." I sit on the edge of the mattress and pull the tray onto her lap. "Eat."
Her eyes widen when she sees the spread.
"You made this?"
"Don't sound so shocked." I hand her the coffee. "I can cook."
She takes a sip, makes a sound of appreciation, then picks up a berry and pops it into her mouth.
"Mmm. Thank you. This is so romantic." She tilts her head, studying me. "What's the occasion?"
"Nothing." I shrug simply. "I'm dedicating today to taking care of you."
She stares at me for a long moment with pure adoration in her eyes, before leaning forward and kissing me softly.
"Thank you," she whispers against my lips.
I kiss her back once more, lingering before pulling away.
"Eat. Then shower. I've got the rest of the day planned."
"Okay," she says, already reaching for the bacon.
I watch her eat happily, stealing glances at me every few bites.
"Here," she says suddenly, holding up a piece of toast toward my mouth. "Have some."
I shake my head. "No, thank you. I made it for you."
She frowns, looking adorable.
"I'm aware of that, Lawrence. Now eat."
Sighing dramatically, I open my mouth and let her feed me the toast.
"Happy now?" I ask around the bite.
She nods, beaming.
"Very."
After breakfast, Scarlett disappears into the master bathroom. I wait till I hear the shower running before following.
Through the fogged glass of the walk-in shower, I see her silhouette.
Her head is tilted back, her eyes closed, letting the rainfall showerhead pour over her.
She's unaware of me until she turns slightly and sees my reflection in the large frameless mirror opposite the shower.
Startled, a loud gasp leaves her throat, her hands flying up to cover herself on instinct before she realises it's me.
Her cheeks redden immediately. "Lawrence… what are you…"
She reaches for the handle and shuts off the water mid-sentence. "You scared the hell out of me."
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms and letting my eyes roam down her body. "I want to help with your hair," I murmur, distracted.
She blinks, water dripping from her chin.
"What do you mean?"
"Your hair," I repeat, leaving the frame and stepping closer. "I want to wash it for you."
Her mouth parts in surprise for a second, then forms into a slow smile.
"Ohhh." Recognition lights her eyes. "Why didn't you just say so before creeping in here like some stalker?"
I smirk.
"Where's the fun in that?"
She laughs, turning the shower back on. Warm water cascades over her again.
"You'll just have to wait till I finish my bath," she says flirtatiously, turning her back to me. She lifts her face into the spray, letting the water sluice over her closed eyes, down her throat, between her breasts.
I step fully into the bathroom, already reaching for the edge of my vest.
"Aye, ma'am," I say, pulling the fabric over my head and dropping it on the floor.
She glances over her shoulder with a playful, daring look.
"You're not even going to pretend to be a gentleman?"
I unbuckle my belt, let my trousers and boxers follow the vest.
"I never was."
She bites her lip to hide a smile as I step into the shower behind her.
I move closer until my front touches her back. Scarlett leans into me with a soft sigh.
Reaching for the rain and citrus shampoo bottle on the marble ledge, I pour a generous amount into my palm.
"Head back," I order softly.
She obeys, tipping her chin up so her hair falls in a heavy, wet curtain down her back.
I massage her scalp, using my fingers to spread the shampoo slowly, taking my time.
Scarlett melts against me, her eyes closing. "Mmm, that feels good," she moans.
"Yeah?" I whisper.
I keep going, lathering and rinsing and conditioning, taking my time.
When her hair is clean and silky, I turn her gently to face me.
Water streams over us both now.
I cup her face and kiss her slowly, feeling her rise on her toes to meet me.
I enjoy the way her lips part for me, the soft sigh she breathes into my mouth, the way her fingers hold onto the back of my neck.
Scarlett presses close, her soft breasts brushing against my chest, and my body responds instantly, hardening against her stomach.
But I stop kissing her and pull back.
She makes a small, frustrated sound, trying to chase my mouth.
I smile against her lips, then kiss her once more before stepping back.
"Lawrence…" she grumbles softly, her cheeks appearing even more flushed.
"Raise your arms," I order softly. "Let me wash you."
She hesitates for a moment, giving me those bedroom eyes that make my blood simmer, then reluctantly lifts her arms.
The water cascades down her sides.
I laugh under my breath, reaching for a body wash and pouring some into my palm. I start to wash her, moving from her shoulders to her breasts, down her stomach and every other place.
Every inch of her deserves attention today.
When I'm done with her front, I turn her gently so her back is to me again, continuing my gentle wash.
Scarlett turns in my arms, taking the sponge from me before I can protest.
"My turn," she says, her eyes shining with mischief.