Racks where clothes are hung. I locate what seems to be a cupboard for his T-shirts and snag one, shrugging it over my head before leaving.
As soon as I step outside his bedroom, I smell a delicious aroma of what must be breakfast. So that's what he's doing. A small smile on my lips, and feeling less apprehensive, I walk barefooted to the kitchen and stop in the archway, staring at him shell-shocked. Apparently, I'm the only one who has morning after jitters.
He is naked as the day he is born, flipping pancakes. Shock gives way to desire as my eyes roam his body hungrily and it has little to do with the wonderful smell of the pancakes either. I can't believe I am still sore from last night but I want him again. His back is to me and I study his broad back, narrow hips and taut backside.
