The aroma of bacon wafts through my nostrils, and I sniff, inhaling the glorious scent of breakfast. Maple syrup and comfort.

Stretching, I yawn and peel open my sleepy, groggy eyes. As soon as I make my coffee, I’ll be functional again.

It’s really sweet of Rose to make us breakfast this morning, and I can’t wait to reward her with a nice little booty smack…and maybe I’ll eat her out if the food proves to be really tasty.

Wait a second.

What the…

Rose can’t be in the kitchen making a magical home-cooked meal for us.

Granted, I know she loves to cook, and I’ve witnessed her in the kitchen working her magic, but…

Rose can’t be in the kitchen cooking because Rose is in here with me.

She’s still sleeping soundly beside me. I watch as her chest peacefully rises and falls with each breath.

If she’s in the bedroom with me, then who the hell is in my kitchen cooking right now?

I have to get to the bottom of this. I roll over in the bed and plant my bare feet on the cool hardwood floors.

I carefully retrieve my arm from under Rose’s head. It tingles with numbness from falling asleep under her.

I shake it out once I climb out of the bed, careful with my movements to make sure she doesn’t stir or wake up.

I walk over to the other side of my bedroom and pull out a pair of boxers from my drawer, pulling them over my exposed cock. I’m guessing that whoever is in my kitchen won’t be interested in seeing my morning wood in all its glory.

I shuffle across the room and place my hand on the door knob. As soon as I pull it open, I gasp with shock at who’s standing on the other side of the door.

Instinctively, I wince with embarrassment and flash a glance back at Rose in the bed. Thankfully, she’s covered up with the comforter. Her petite little body is small and swallowed whole by the huge sheets on top of her.

I look back at my mother and stare in surprise.

“Mom…” I laugh nervously and scratch my bed head. “What are you…um…what are you doing here?”

My mom has a bright, beaming ray-of-sunshine type of smile plastered across her heavily made-up face.

I continue to stare at her, wondering when she’s going to give me a reasonable explanation for her presence outside of my bedroom door when I’m only wearing a pair of boxers and there’s a naked girl sleeping in my bed.

I’m trying to swallow my panic, but as I gulp hard and attempt the impression of a delighted grin at seeing her, I’m visibly sweating.

“Oh, darling,” my mom grazes my bare chest with her fingertips, “I just thought I’d give you guys a treat this morning.”

I gulp and turn around, giving my secret away by continually glancing at Rose. “Um…us?” I say with a skull full of anxiety as I push her out the door and gently close it shut behind me.

“Of course, sweetie.” My mom’s laugh tickles the air as if I’m an idiot to assume she’s unaware of what’s going on here. “I wanted to do something nice for you and your lady friend.”

Lady friend? What the hell is my mom doing here, trying to kill me with humiliation? I may be an adult now, but I have limits when it comes to my mother invading my personal space and sniffing out a female…companion in my apartment.

Before I have a chance to protest any of this ridiculousness, my mom quickly skirts back down the hallway in the direction from which she came…the kitchen.

She must need to check on the bacon to make sure it’s not burning in the pan or something. For a moment or two, I can’t move a single muscle. In theory, I should be chasing after her, begging her to go home.

Maybe I can take the credit for breakfast, and I’ll get a special dessert treat of my own from Rose?

No, I can’t own up to all that cooking. Rose wouldn’t believe me for an instant.

Instead, I’m frozen in place, unable to move, and paralyzed by the shock of the events that are unfolding.

I’m a little lost, struggling to determine how my mom got into my penthouse in the first place, until I remember one monumental detail.

I had given my mother a key a while back―you know, when I was single and not looking at the prospect of a serious relationship.

Hearing my own voice ring through my head, I did the unimaginable: I told my mother she was welcome anytime.

Shit. What the hell have I done?

Honestly, remembering back, this isn’t the first time my mom has stopped by for a ‘friendly’ type of visit.

She likes to show up unannounced sometimes, whenever she feels like it or has leisure time. I suppose I should feel grateful that she cares enough about me to stop by, but enough is enough.

Why am I so surprised to see her here this morning you ask, as if I should be used to it? Well, to be honest, all the other times she’s done this, I haven’t had a naked girl in my bed.

I’m not interested in getting smothered by an overbearing mother, and I certainly don’t want Rose to have to endure that torture, either.

On the other hand…

Rose comes from a big family as well. Perhaps she’ll take it all in stride and find the whole ordeal comical.

Well, that’s what I’m hoping for, at least.

I take a deep breath and lean against the wall in my hallway, needing a few seconds to compose myself.

Okay, I think I’m calm enough to go back to bed and face my fears. I need to wake Rose up and give her a little fair warning of the over-indulgent and over-the-top mother figure who is probably whistling a tune and dancing through my kitchen with a spatula in hand.

I close the door behind me and lock it―you know, for good measure and all. If my mom has no reservations about helping herself to free reign of my house, then she probably wouldn’t have any inhibitions about waltzing herself directly into my private bedroom suite.

I stand over Rose for a few seconds, watching her sleep. She looks so content, so beautiful.

Her hair spills across the pillow in long flowing locks that resemble feathers. I hate to disturb her from her peaceful slumber, but the inevitable is calling―in the form of my mother setting a table for breakfast in the nook just outside the kitchen.

Gently, I graze a hand over her head, trailing my fingertips through her hair until they become intertwined with the wispy, delicate strands.

She stirs, but doesn’t rouse quite yet. Sighing contentedly, she rolls over in the bed―but her eyes don’t open.

“Rose?” I lightly tug at her shoulder. “Rose?”

“Mmm?” She grins in her sleep. “Daniel, is that you?”

“It’s me,” I tell her, not whispering any longer because I want to get this over with.

She opens her eyes and blinks, furrowing her brow in confusion. Then, she reaches up for me and gives me a sexy little smile.

“What are you doing out of bed and all the way up there?” she whispers seductively and licks her lips.

Damn, she’s sultry, and her beckoning is really swaying me here.

There’s nothing I love more in this world than a horny woman who’s just woken up from a tender sleep.

Something about her smell, her taste, and the softness of her skin entices me as she glows with radiance under the sheets.

My sheets.

I really fucking love seeing her in my bed. I could get used to that.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to distract myself with the thought of my mother rifling through my kitchen for gadgets.

“Daniel?”

I open my eyes at the sound of Rose’s alarmed voice. She props herself up on her elbows and stares at me with guarded caution.

“What is it? Why aren’t you coming back to bed? What time is it?”

Her voice sounds suspicious and frantic, so I ease myself slowly to a sitting position beside her on the bed. I take her hands in mine, cupping them together to cradle them.

“There’s nothing wrong,” I reassure her and give her a warm, genuine smile.

Rose’s shoulders sag in visible relief. “Okay.” She grins and bites her lip again, moving her legs in the bed. “Is it early still?”

“That depends.” I laugh nervously. “Is ten o’clock in the morning too early to have breakfast?”

Rose giggles, giving me an inspecting glance. “What is up with you today?”

I heave a dramatic sigh and decide to just rip off the Band-Aid, right then and there.

“Well…” I chuckle. “I have a confession to make.”

Rose pretends to be freaked out. “Oh, god. Not another confession.”

I playfully give her a little nudge, to which she responds with a fit of giggles, withering around in the sheets and squealing with delight as if I’m tickling her to death.

“Shh…” I hold her down.

She brushes the hair off her face and glances around with suspicion.

“What’s going on, Daniel?” This time, her voice is firmer than before, demanding.

“Okay, look,” I say, with a gesture to the bedroom door. “My mom is here, and she’s cooked us breakfast.”

The look on her face is exactly how I feel: Oh, shit.

Yeah, fucking tell me about it.