As I blinked awake, sunlight streamed through the curtains, and the delicious aroma of something freshly cooked wafted into the bedroom. My eyes landed on Nicolas, standing at the foot of the bed with a tray in his hands. His hair was tousled, his skin glowing under the soft morning light, and the only thing he had on was an apron tied loosely around his waist.
For a moment, I forgot all my frustrations from the night before. He looked sinful, like a work of art standing there with a playful smirk on his face. “Breakfast is served,” he said in a teasing tone, his voice low and rough from sleep.
I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist as I took in the sight of him. The tray was impressive—pancakes stacked high, eggs perfectly scrambled, bacon cooked just right, and a steaming cup of
