Georgia's POV
I woke at dawn, the soft light slipping through the curtains, and instantly noticed the space beside me was empty. Nick wasn't in bed. The ache in my body was enough of a reminder of why I felt like I'd been hit by a train.
Last night's memories crashed back—every touch, every kiss, every moment of him claiming me over and over until I couldn't even lift a finger. My body was wrecked, but my heart was soaring.
I expected him to still be dead asleep, drained from everything we did… but no. The bed was cold, and he was already gone.
Slipping into the robe draped on the chair, I padded out of the bedroom, curious. Then I caught it—the scent. Rich, savory, mouthwatering. The kind of smell that lured me like a siren call through the vast space of his penthouse.
And there he was, standing shirtless in nothing but his boxers, standing there with such ease, cooking like a real chef.
