Chapter 390 - The Stare (2/2)

The thought was so vivid he almost had difficulty snapping out of it.

”Since you're going to be staying home today, how about I make you breakfast? Would you like that?” he asked gently, letting go of her in his mind's eye.

Amy nodded quite puzzled but also pleased as she pulled her tank top down to cover her n.a.k.e.d b.u.t.t.o.c.k.s, as if only suddenly realizing that they had been too exposed.

”I stumbled into your kitchen trying to find my way here earlier. Now let's see if I can find my way back and prove my mastery as a culinary chef to you,” he bragged,throwing his suit jacket on her bed and folding his sleeves back, dark ink marks signifying that he had tattoos, peeking out.

There was a boyish smile on his face as he winked to her, undoing two of the top buttons of his shirt.

'Lord, help me,' Amy thought as she smiled back at him. He turned to leave, without waiting for Amy to lead him into her small kitchen.

She watched him go, suddenly feeling self-conscious and embarrassed about the size and state of her kitchen, and her house at large.

She quickly slipped out of bed and rushed to her closet. She pulled a large oversized t-shirt out of the pile of roughly folded clothes and threw it on.

Then she tucked her hair behind her ears. As she hurried out of the room to catch up with Edward, she caught a reflection of herself in the mirror and shook her head.

'You look absolutely crazy, girl,' she thought as she saw herself, her hair ruffled and sleep lines still marking the left side of her face.

She quickly rushed to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face and swallowed some mouthwash.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rinsed it under the running tap.

”Ah, much better,” she said, smiling. There was a tingling sensation coursing through every inch of her.

'Edward is here. And he is making me breakfast! I cannot believe it!' she thought excited almost to bursting point.

She entertained the thought that maybe it really was all some very lucid dreaming and that when she eventually made her way to the kitchen to join him, she would wake up to the rude shock of his absence.

She was wrong. When she finally stepped foot into the kitchen, she found him still very much there. He had his back to her and was working with all his focus.

She stood at the door, watching him knead dough. The movements of his arms were firm yet his fingers had a certain tenderness to the way they molded and remolded the all-purpose flour.

Amy felt moisture gathering between her legs and shrieked softly at the realization that she had forgotten to put on some p.a.n.t.i.e.s.

She was about to turn and flee when he raised his head and looked right at her as if he had known she had been there watching him the whole time.