He shook his head, chuckling, but leaned closer until his face was just inches from hers. "If you want me in your kitchen every morning, Seraphina, all you have to do is ask nicely."
Her breath caught for a moment. Then she smirked, slid the fork past his lips, and let him taste his own creation. "Then consider this my first request."
Xavier chewed slowly, eyes never leaving hers, and when he swallowed, he said lowly, "Request granted."
The air between them thickened again—not the fiery heat of the morning, but something more intimate, tender. The kitchen was quiet save for the gentle crackle of the fire and the faint clink of the fork against porcelain.
The omelette gleamed golden under the morning light pouring through the windows, untouched halves waiting for them to finish together.
And just as Seraphina set down her fork, Xavier's hand brushed over hers, steady, claiming.
"Eat," Xavier said softly, his hand brushing hers. "Then we'll see what else today brings."
