Good Girl

He cooks too

*Irene*

The smell of breakfast wafts through the air, rich and inviting, pulling me from the depths of sleep. I blink against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, my thoughts still hazy as I try to piece together the events of last night. I’m in Benjamin’s guest room, cocooned in the warmth of the duvet, and for a moment, I forget everything… my fears, the accusations, the weight of the world outside.

As I sit up, the soft fabric slips away, and I catch sight of him in the kitchen, moving with an effortless grace. He’s in pajama pants that hang low on his hips and an old T-shirt that clings to his frame, revealing the outlines of muscles beneath. His hair is tousled, and there’s a slight sheen of sleep still lingering in his eyes. It’s a disheveled look that somehow makes him even more handsome, and I feel an unexpected flutter in my chest.

But it’s not just his looks that catch my attention. As he turns slightly, I notice the intricate tattoo winding up his right arm, a dark tapestry of gothic designs that speaks of stories untold. It’s mesmerizing, and I can’t help but wonder what it all means. The tattoo feels like a window into another world, one filled with secrets and shadows, definitely not one I expected on a cop and I find myself wanting to know more.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Benjamin says, his voice warm and inviting as he glances over his shoulder at me through the open door. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I went with the classics… eggs, bacon and toast.”

I rub the sleep from my eyes, still trying to shake off the remnants of the night. “No, that sounds perfect,” I reply, my voice softer than I intended. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the coolness of the floor grounding me as I take in the small but cozy space. It’s filled with books, art, and a sense of homeliness that feels oddly comforting.

Benjamin turns off the stove and walks over to the table, a plate in hand, his expression a careful mix of concern and kindness. “I was worried when you fell asleep in the car,” he admits, setting the plate down on the bedside table. “When I realized you were out cold, I didn’t want to rummage through your things to find your address. So, I brought you here, I hope it was okay?”

“It’s fine,” I take a seat on the chair he is holding out for me. “Thank you,” I say softly, my gaze steadying on his. “For not taking advantage of the situation.”

His brow furrows slightly, as if my words strike a chord deep within him. “I would never do that,” he replies, his voice low and sincere. “I hope you know that.”

I want to believe him. I want to believe that this man, who just a night ago was cast in shadow and doubt, is the same one standing before me now, radiating warmth. But there’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind, reminding me that trust is a fragile thing. It can be shattered in an instant, and men… no matter how charming or gentle… can sometimes hide darker intentions beneath the surface.

“I just…” I hesitate, searching for the right words. I can’t imagine him hurting a woman to be honest, but looks and first impression can fool you. “It is not personal, but trust is something hard-earned.” My heart races as I say this, the weight of my admission hanging between us.

Benjamin nods, his expression thoughtful. “I understand. I get it. Trust is something that takes time.” He pauses, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something in his eyes… a vulnerability that mirrors my own fears. “But I promise you, I’m not that kind of guy.”

As he stands there, his gaze steady and earnest, I feel drawn to him in a way I can’t quite put into words. There’s an attraction swirling between us, almost electric, and I can’t help but notice how my heart quickens at the thought of him. It’s a pull that feels both thrilling and terrifying, the allure of danger wrapped in his enigmatic presence.

“I hope the breakfast is good,” he says, breaking the spell, and I nod, trying to steady my racing heart. He gestures for me to eat, then ask; “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” I reach for the cup he is holding out, my fingers brushing against his as I take it from him, the contact sending a jolt of warmth through me. “Thank you for this,” I say, glancing up at him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He watches me, his dark eyes searching mine. “It’s nothing really,” he says softly, and in that moment, I can see the man behind the facade… the one who carries burdens and secrets, just like me. The one who seems to understand the weight of fear and the longing for something more.

As I take my first bite, the food is delicious, but it’s his presence that fills me with a warmth I didn’t know I needed. I can feel my defenses slowly beginning to crumble, each bite a step closer to trusting this man who has defied the expectations cast upon him.

But as I glance at the tattoo on his arm, a reminder of the shadows that linger just beneath the surface, I know I must tread carefully. My heart may be drawn to him, but my mind is a fortress, and I cannot let my guard down completely.

“After breakfast I can take you home,” he says again, his voice gentle. “Or wherever else you are needing to go.”

I force a smile, a slight panic wrapping around me like a wet blanket… I can’t give him my adress. “Thank you… but I can take the tube… you have already done more than I could ask for.”

As I watch him my heart is pounding with the realization that despite everything, I want to know this man. I want to unravel the mystery of Benjamin, the man behind the accusations, the man who has shown me a glimpse of light in a world that feels so dark.

“Well at least let me take you to a station that works for you,” he says warmly. “I am heading into the office anyways, so no bother.”

“Okay then,” I say, taking another bite of my toast, letting him take me to a station is safe.