Frost

Damien

The smell of fresh coffee and scrambled eggs fills the penthouse as I sit at the kitchen island. I sip my coffee, my eyes fixed on her as she moves around the kitchen, her hair still slightly mussed from sleep.

She's wearing one of my shirts, the sleeves rolled up, and it's a sight I could get used to—need to get used to.

Last night wasn't just about sex. It wasn't about claiming her or proving something to either of us. It was… everything. A reminder of what it feels like to belong, to come home, even when home is just a person.

And she's my person.

The realization terrifies me, but not enough to change it. I'm already too far gone.

She sets a plate of toast and eggs in front of me, and I reach out to grab her wrist, pulling her into my lap before she can sit next to me. She laughs, a soft, happy sound, and I kiss her cheek before letting her settle against me.