She awoke in the morning with the sun gently shining through the curtains. In their haste last night, she had forgotten to close the blinds. The sheet still draped over her lower half, she raised her hand up to brush hair out of her face, pausing to admire the ring adorning her finger as it sparkled in the morning rays. She couldn't stop the smile from bursting onto her face as she thought of the man next to her. With that thought, she rolled over to find her fiancée gone. She sat up and listened. In the distance, she could her the very soft banging coming from the kitchen.
Breakfast.
Smiling again, she arose from bed and slipped on her robe. Padding down the hallway and into the kitchen, her smile grew.
She propped her shoulder against the wall and watched him as he whisked eggs in the bowl. Hearing her arrival, he turned and made his way toward her, his own smile growing to gargantuan proportions. Still smiling, he softly kissed her, pressing his "Good morning" to her lips. One hand still holding an egg-covered whisk, the other made it's way to her waist, pulling her close as she held his face to hers, refusing to part their grinning lips. She moaned softly, finally releasing her hold.
"Good morning."
"Omelet?" he asked.
"Yes, please," she answered before following him back to the stove, wrapping her arms around his waist as he turned it on.
"You are already dressed," she pointed out.
"I couldn't sleep," he replied. She turned him in her arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on her toes to reach his mouth. He pulled away, looking down as her robe gaped open slightly, "and you are definitely not dressed."
"I had plans," she smirked, "but I'll go get ready for work." He followed as she walked away, spatula in hand. Sensing his trailing, she tossed over her shoulder, "don't burn breakfast." His groan echoed down the hall behind her as she walked to the closet and proceeded to get ready for work.
After breakfast was plated and the table set for two, he treaded to the bedroom. "Breakfast is…" He trailed off as he took in her attire. She turned slowly, fastening her earrings in the mirror. "You can't wear that."
"What?"
"There is no way I'll be able to stop staring with you in that."
Looking down at her outfit of choice, she couldn't see the problem. The pencil skirt was knee length and form-fitting but not tight and her buttoned blouse was loose, almost nude-colored, and low-cut but showed no cleavage. But she humored him, "What would you like me to wear, Andy?"
She was surprised when, instead of laughing, he walked to the closet, and proceeded to peruse her vast wardrobe. Snapping his finger, he reached to the back and pulled out an over-sized black suit jacket that she could not even remember purchasing. He handed her the hanger as she just stared at him. He handed her a hanger with black trousers and another with patterned loose-fitting blouse with a higher neckline.
Her eyebrow raised, "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. No distractions today, Captain. I suggest you hurry; breakfast is getting cold." He left the room but not before one last look.
She quickly changed and walked into the dining area, "Better?"
He took his time looking her over, a look of intense concentration on his face. "Yeah. I guess that'll do."
She shook her head in disbelief and amusement before sitting at the table to eat her now-cold omelet.