When I woke up, his apartment was full of the smell of something delicious. It was late, though; the clock on his nightstand said it was almost three in the morning. Jake was asleep next to me, wearing nothing, his legs entwined in the sheets. A possessive arm encircled my hips. I got out of the bed and scrambled around in the dark for my clothes. I couldn’t find anything but my t-shirt, so I just wore that as I ventured out of the bedroom.
The kitchen was a mess. There were dishes in the sink and pots were still on the stove. Stains peppered the counter and jars of spices without their lids scattered over the surface. I checked the pots on the stove and found the source of the delicious smell; Jake had made chili, and it was still simmering. I was starving, but I couldn’t possibly eat in
