A Kiss for payment

Drake's POV:

Waking up beside my mate... it's something I could easily get used to. The warmth of her body nestled against mine, her soft breathing, the way she looked so peaceful in her sleep—it was everything I didn't know I needed. I woke up before her, as usual, and found myself unable to tear my eyes away from her. She looked different when she slept, more relaxed, less guarded. Not the calculated, wary woman she was when she was awake, constantly on alert, constantly preparing for the worst. Here, in this quiet moment, she was just... beautiful.

 I don't know how long I watched her, how long I marveled at the delicate rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes brushed against her cheeks, or the soft curve of her lips. I could watch her like this forever and never get bored. But I wanted more for her than just a peaceful morning in my arms. I wanted to give her something special, something that could maybe, just maybe, make her smile.

 So I quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her, and headed to the kitchen. I wasn't a chef by any means, but I wanted to make her breakfast, something simple and sweet. I thought about what I'd seen her eat at meals—how she always reached for the pancakes and eggs, and how she preferred her tea with milk. It wasn't much, but it was enough to let me know what she liked, what she found comfort in.

 I whipped up a batch of pancakes, making sure they were golden and fluffy, and scrambled some eggs just the way she liked them. As I worked, I couldn't help but smile at myself. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be standing in my kitchen, cooking for my mate like this, I'd have laughed in their face. But now, I couldn't imagine doing anything else. And yeah, maybe it was a little creepy that I'd been observing her so closely, learning her habits and preferences without her knowing. But hey, I didn't care. I'd be a creep for her any day.

 Once everything was ready, I poured her tea and added just the right amount of milk, then carefully arranged everything on a tray. I wanted this to be perfect. I wanted her to wake up and feel cared for, to know that someone was thinking of her—thinking of her happiness, her comfort, her needs.

 I carried the tray back to the bedroom and set it down on the bedside table before climbing back into bed. She was still asleep, and I couldn't help but smile as I leaned over to gently brush a strand of hair from her face.

 "Good morning, beautiful," I whispered softly, hoping she'd wake up to the smell of breakfast and the sight of me trying to make this day as romantic and memorable as I could.

 Because that's all I wanted—to show her that I cared, that I was here for her, and that I'd do anything to make her happy.

 She stirred, her eyes still half-closed as she inhaled deeply, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "Something smells beautiful," she mumbled, her voice soft and sleepy, making my chest tighten with affection.

 I watched as her gaze drifted toward the tray of food beside her. Her smile faltered slightly as she looked from the breakfast I'd made to me, her eyebrows raising in suspicion. It was like she was waiting for me to admit to some hidden agenda. I couldn't help but chuckle at that. She really thought I was up to something.

 And, well... damn right I was.

 I was after her heart.

 But instead of letting her in on that, I just shrugged my shoulders, trying to play it off as no big deal. "What?" I said with a smirk. "I can't make breakfast for my mate?"

 Her eyes narrowed slightly, though her lips quirked up in a half-smile. "This seems... unlike you," she said teasingly, though there was a softness in her voice that made my heart race.

 I leaned back on my elbows, feigning innocence. "Maybe I'm just full of surprises," I said, unable to resist the playful tone. "Or maybe I just wanted to see you smile first thing in the morning."

 She glanced back at the tray of food, her smile growing a little more genuine, and then shook her head. "You're definitely up to something," she said, but there was a warmth in her eyes now, something softer than I was used to seeing. Something that made me feel like maybe I was getting through to her, little by little.

 I shrugged again, keeping up the act, but inside, I was buzzing with excitement. If this was the start of winning her over—slowly breaking down those walls she kept around her heart—then I was all in.

 And as she picked up a fork and took a bite of the pancakes, her eyes closing in appreciation, I knew that this morning was a step in the right direction. I wasn't just cooking for her; I was showing her that she mattered. That she was worth the effort, worth the care, worth everything.

 She glanced back at me, that suspicion still lingering in her gaze, but it was softened now, like she was trying to figure me out and failing. And I couldn't help but smirk at that because, honestly, I liked keeping her guessing. If it meant more mornings like this—her smiling, teasing, letting me in—then yeah, I'd keep her guessing all day long.

 As she finished eating, I took the tray from her hands and placed it aside, but not before leaning in and claiming what I thought was a fair payment—a kiss. She laughed, shaking her head as if she saw it coming. "I knew it," she said, but her smile was playful.

 Undeterred by her teasing, I moved closer, my eyes fixed on her lips. I could feel the hunger rising in me, not just for her touch but for the connection between us. Her laughter had faded now, replaced by a different kind of tension. A spark of desire flashed in her eyes, and I knew she felt it too.

 I started gently, my lips brushing against hers, savoring the softness of the moment. But it wasn't enough. It never was with her. I cupped her neck, deepening the kiss, feeling her respond instantly. Her hands slid into my hair, pulling at the strands in that delicious way that made my blood run hot.

 I wrapped my hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly, setting her on top of me, her legs straddling my lap. She gasped softly, but the sound only fueled me further. Our bodies pressed together, the kiss growing more intense, more demanding with every second that passed.

 It was everything I had imagined—her warmth, her closeness, the way she surrendered to me in this moment, even if she didn't fully realize it yet. Every touch, every brush of her lips against mine was like a silent agreement that she wanted this as much as I did.

 But just as things started to heat up, a loud knock echoed through the room, shattering the moment.

 She jumped off me like she had been caught doing something wrong, her face flushing a deep shade of red. I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my lips. She looked so embarrassed, so adorably flustered, and yet all I could think about was how much I wanted to drag her right back into my arms and pick up where we left off.

 "Damn it," I muttered under my breath, glaring toward the door. Whoever had interrupted us was about to regret it. Big time.

 I glanced back at her, still sitting on the other side of the bed, her face buried in her hands, trying to collect herself. The sight of her—so beautiful, so innocent and yet so intoxicating—made me want to murder the person who dared to disturb this moment.

 I stood up, rolling my neck as I mentally prepared to rip into whoever was on the other side of that door. They had no idea how close they had come to making me snap. My time with my mate was precious, and the last thing I needed was some fool thinking they could barge in and ruin it.

 Whoever it was, they were about to face the wrath of an Alpha who wasn't in the mood to be messed with.