Page 82 of Kisses and Paperclips

Didn’t trust what might show on my face.

But eventually… I did.

There she was.

Wearing my shirt. No makeup. Hair a little messy. Legs bare. Eyes soft.

That well-fucked, still-sleepy look suits her in the morning.

Hair a little tousled, but somehow even sexier.

Her smooth, deep brown skin caught the light spilling through my kitchen windows like it was made for her.

She wore my shirt like it was made for her, drowning her up top, showing off everything else.

Especially those legs. I’ll never forget the sight of her.

Looking like a memory I haven’t even lived long enough to miss.

“You know, it’s impolite to stare,” she said, sliding into the seat across from me, her voice still thick with sleep and something sweeter.

“Admiring beauty isn’t staring,” I said, letting my eyes linger anyway. “It’s appreciation.”

“That’s what a stalker would say.”

She scanned the table, and I watched her reaction hit…subtle, but there.

I’d pulled out my grandmother’s old china, the good kind with the gold trim and delicate floral pattern she only used on Sunday dinners.

The table looked like something out of a hotel suite.

She raised an eyebrow, half-amused. I just shrugged.

“My grandmother used to say, ‘The way you present something tells people how much you value it.’”

I nodded toward the spread.

“Eat.” I said, lifting a glass dome off one of the serving dishes. “Have some protein.”

She shot me a look. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Then, without missing a beat, she picked up the tongs and grabbed a sausage.

I smiled.

“I was always going to,” she muttered, quickly loading her plate. “Still don’t like being told, though.”

She glanced at the table, like she couldn’t decide if it was breakfast or some kind of trap.

Sausage, grits, pancakes, eggs, juice—too much, maybe.

But not for her.

She sat in front of me, looking at the table like she didn’t know if it was breakfast or a trap, with sausage, grits, pancakes, eggs, and juice laid out perfectly for her.

“Where did all this come from?” She asked as she grabbed a couple of sausages and eggs.

“I made it.” Now she was the one staring. I brought my mug to my lips and took a sip.

---