His eyelids slowly fluttered open, his crystal blue eyes meeting an unusually bright London sun. He could already feel the warmth of the day as he pressed his face into the dark locks laid beside him on the pillow.

The smell of lavender drifted through his nostrils as he inhaled deeply, his arms tightening around the beauty beside him. The night before had been a blur of parties, dancing, drinks and her, everything about her. They'd only known each other a few short weeks, maybe a month, perhaps two. He could hardly keep track. Every moment with her felt as glorious as the first. But right now, at this exact moment, he was already finding himself falling, hard and fast in a way he never had before.

He pressed his lips against the porcelain skin of her shoulder, causing her body to shift beside him. He gazed intently as she rolled over, her chocolate brown eyes locking onto his.

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty or so," he answered softly, in his posh sounding British accent.

"And why are we awake?" she inquired with a smile.

He laughed. His beautiful American. She was simply ravishing, the sunlight cascading over her bare shoulders, eyes glistening, not a stitch of makeup on her perfect face. "Because, my darling, it's time to wake up. We've got a whole day ahead of us to take advantage of, and I plan on doing just that."

"You did plenty of taking advantage last night."

He laughed heartily. "You, darling, did not put up much of a fight. In fact I'd say if anyone took advantage, that one would be you."

"Mr. Hiddleston," she giggled. "I have no idea what you are referring to."

"Shall I remind you?" he whispered as his lips neared hers. He barely grazed his against hers before her mouth parted, hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him into her, hard and passionately. His hands began to round every curve hidden below the bed linens; her torso, her hips, her buttocks, yanking their frames closer together yet. He jumped slightly, startled, as he felt the cold of her leg brush over his, intertwining their limbs together.

He pulled back, gasping for air, a heavenly glaze to his eyes. "Mmm…see I really think you're the one taking advantage of things here," he teased, brushing her locks out of her face. He leaned in, placing his lips ever so softly against her forehead. "But I'd be lying in saying that I minded," he added with a whisper.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he tossed aside the sheets and sat up, resituating his twisted boxers as he stood.

"To make breakfast. If we're going to continue like that we need sustenance." Tom leaned back over her, just enough for a soft peck on the lips before heading toward the door. "Call you when it's ready, my love. You relax."

She smiled as she scooted herself to his side of the bed, burying her face in the essence he had left on the pillow. He was perfect…charming, incredibly good looking, a walking, breathing Prince. And the accent didn't hurt either.

He whistled as he scrambled a pile of eggs atop the stove. Cooking wasn't something he did often, yet here he was. Eggs in a pan, toast on a nearby plate, bacon in yet another pan, crackling away. He could smell the coffee percolating at the other end of the counter and found himself wondering if he had orange juice in the house. He wasn't home all that often and groceries were rarely on hand, luckily he'd had enough around to throw together this or he'd have had to run errands or order in. Though a delivered breakfast didn't sound half bad…

But there was something about this girl that made him want to cook, made him want to do anything and everything he could to keep her at his side. Make her breakfast, take her on trips, worship the ground she walked on…She was divine, utterly perfect in every way imaginable.

"Are you actually cooking out here or just staring into space?"

Tom snapped from his daze and turned toward the voice. She stood on the other side of the kitchen island, dressed only in panties and one of his dress shirts, only a couple of the buttons actually in used. "Jesus…" he whispered. "That's not even remotely fair."

"What? I wasn't going to put my party dress back on," she said with a sly smile, sauntering toward him and leaning against the counter. "Whatcha making?"

"Um…I um…eggs?"

She laughed. "That sounded like more of a question."

"I think it was," Tom sighed, gulping down a lump forming in the pit of his throat. He couldn't take his eyes off her. The crease of her neck, the way his shirt hung on her perfect breasts, her taut stomach peeking out from between the unbuttoned shirt panels, her long, toned legs, extending from the perfectly white panties… "You need to go into a different room. I can't function."

"I think your eggs are toast…so to speak…" she stated, pointing to the now smoking pan.

"Dammit!" Tom exclaimed, grabbing the pan handle. It too was hot, and immediately sizzled against his skin. "Fuck!" he shouted as he dropped the pan into the sink. "Goddammit…"

"Here here…let me…" she grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter and quickly ran it under the faucet before wrapping it around his reddened hand. "Are you okay?"

"Aside from the singeing pain, yes," Tom said with a chuckle. "You, darling, are dangerous to have in the kitchen."

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" she apologized, her hands still softly holding the towel in place.

"It's alright, dear. It's not your fault you distract me so…" Tom stated, his eyes roaming the body before him. "In fact, I'm already starting to feel better…"

"Stop it," she laughed, looking up into his eyes. "You're insatiable."

"If you weren't the most gorgeous thing I'd ever laid eyes on it'd be a bit easier to control myself," Tom responded, his voice morphing into a low growl.

"Tom, what are you doing?" she laughed as he began walking her backward toward the counter.

"Making myself feel better…" he said as she bumped into the countertop behind her. He put his hands on her waist and lifted her to sit on the cold granite. Without giving her a second to question, he thrust his lips upon hers, their tongues engaging in a heated battle.

She gasped as he pulled his lips from hers, moving to the crease of her neck, his hands roaming under the shirt, up the length of her torso until his skilled fingers found the two closed buttons on his shirt. His hands then grasped the fabric tightly, practically yanking it from her body and tossing it carelessly to the floor below. "God, Tom…"

"Just Tom is fine…" he grinned devilishly. "Scoot forward."

"Tom…"

"Do as I say," he commanded.

She'd never heard that gruff, commanding tone in his voice, usually sweet and gentle, so she obeyed, sliding her hips forward. He instantly grabbed them, looping his fingers around the sides of her panties, tearing them from her body, exposing her in every way.

His hands then moved to his own underwear, sliding off his boxers and kicking them to the floor. Without a second of hesitation he threw an arm around her waist, pulled her closer and onto his hardened member.

She gasped as he entered her, completely, entirely, his hips driving in and out. "Tom…"

"I want you to scream for me, my darling," he said through low, strained breath. "I want to feel your pleasure." His lips crashed into hers once more as he continued the task at hand. He could feel her walls beginning to clench around him, a full blown orgasm within reach.

Pulling his lips from hers, he placed them by her ear, whispering. "You drive me completely insane. I want you mine, every day, every night."

"I'm yours," she whimpered, her nails dragging across the skin on his back. "I'm all yours."

"Then scream for me, my love, let the world hear your declaration…" He quickly pulled her from the counter, but forced her over, arms braced on the counter as he took her effortlessly from behind. "God, you are heavenly from every angle, every inch of you."

She couldn't form a word, let alone a sentence as his thick, hard cock slid in and out of her slick opening, pushing her closer and closer to the blackness of climax. She stood up, reaching her arms back, pulling his head to her neck, his lips showering her neck, shoulders, jaw with kisses. She felt her knees go weak as his expert fingers found their way to her swollen clit, rubbing the smallest of circles, attempting to push her over the edge. "Fuck…Thomas…"

"Let it go, my darling. Let yourself go," he said softly before his lips met her earlobe.

As if on command, she felt the rush of orgasm fill every cell of her body. Letting go of his neck she leaned forward, arms on the counter, bracing herself as a tremor coursed through her very bones. "Oh God…" she whimpered as he thrust himself into her a few more times, the last being all he needed to join her in bliss.

"My God…" he growled, hunched over her, his chest resting ever so gently and perfectly against her back. He planted a trail of kisses on every inch of skin his lips could reach, resting a moment before he stepped back, turning her around and immediately throwing his lips onto hers.

It was another few moments before he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. "It may be soon, but I have to say it or I fear I might burst…" he said through bated breath. He took a short pause and a deep breath before he whispered three small words. "I love you."

Her mouth grew into a bright and shining smile. "I love you too, Thomas."

He smiled brightly, his normal cheery demeanor returning. "That's the greatest thing I've heard all day." He kissed her again, sweetly. "Now…what to do for breakfast?"

"We could always go out," she beamed.

"We could…but that involves clothing…and judging by the last twenty four hours we aren't well acquainted with clothing."

She giggled. "Put on some pants. We'll go get breakfast, my treat."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I ruined breakfast, I buy."

"If you think about it, I ruined breakfast."

"Oh hush. Let me ravage you and then buy you a meal, dammit. You need your strength."

She laughed as he headed toward the bedroom, in search of clothing. He was a prince. A real life Prince Charming. And he was hers.