“Good morning,” Sebastian said when Kat came around the corner and stepped into the kitchen. Want and possession raced through him the second he saw her, and he rooted his feet before he discarded breakfast and took her again.

“I thought you’d left.” Her eyes widened when she found him at the stove flipping eggs. His gaze moved over her, taking in her mussed hair and crumpled nightshirt. His heart missed a beat, never having seen her look so sweet and adorable.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “I never said I was disappointed.”

“I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed, but I guess it’s too late.”

“Really?” She zeroed in on the bowl of strawberries he’d found in her fridge. She picked one up.

“Yeah, really.”

“I’ve never had breakfast in bed before.”

“Get used to it. For the next two weeks, I plan to spoil you.”

She frowned and dropped the strawberry back into the bowl. “Sebastian, I—”

He cupped the back of her head and drew her mouth to his, swallowing her words. Her lips were soft, tender as they connected, and his heart squeezed. Jesus, he wanted so much more from her. The toast popped, and he inched back and slapped her ass.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “What was it you wanted to say?”

She put on a smile, but he knew her well enough to know she had something on her mind. “Nothing.”

“Is everything okay?”

She nodded. “Work stuff.”

“Okay, good. Grab the butter.”

She reached into the fridge, pulled out the butter, and set it beside the plates.

“Knife,” he said, enjoying the warm familiarity between them.

She opened the drawer, grabbed the knife, and buttered the toast while he flipped the eggs.

“Plate,” he called out.

She lifted the plates and held them out. He slid the eggs onto them.

He winked at her. “What a team.”

She grinned. “Its just breakfast.”

He nodded. “You’re right.” He gestured toward the table. “Let’s eat.”

He followed her to her small dinette table and set his plate down. “Coffee?” She nodded, and he hurried back to the kitchen to pour them each a mug. He sat across from her and dug into his eggs, starved from all the physical activity last night.

“How does your day look?” he asked.

She lifted her head, a surprised look on her face. “What?”

“What? Has no one ever asked you how your day looked before?”

She wiped the comer of her mouth with a napkin. “Actually, no.”

“Assholes. Every last one of them.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I’m like a regular old asshole magnet.”

“Hey, I take offense to that.” He took a sip of coffee and she shrugged.

“You shouldn’t. You’re not my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just some random guy you’re sleeping with.”

She sipped her coffee and glanced at him over the rim. “I’d hardly call you random, Sebastian. We’ve been friends forever.”

She was right, he wasn’t some random guy, but dammit if he didn’t want to be more than her friend, her two-week lover. “So, are you going to answer the question?”

“Day is busy. I have to go in early, actually. I didn’t get any work done this weekend.”

He grinned. “My fault?”

“It takes two.”

“Dinner tonight?”

“After work I have to pick up my dry cleaning and a few groceries, and I won’t be home until late.”

He stabbed his egg. “I can do all that for you.”

Emotions played on her face, everything from confusion to appreciation. “Why would you do that?”

“To help you out. Just leave my your dry cleaning slip and text me what you need at the store. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay. If its not out of your way.” She looked at her eggs, moved them around on her plate a bit, then said, “Sebastian…”

“Yeah?”

“How does your day look?”

The normalcy in this twisted his head. He’d never woken up with a girl and stayed for breakfast before, but Christ, now that he had, he wasn’t sure how he could go back to his empty condo. Some might think his need for her was quick—his desire to make her his and his only lightning fast—but it wasn’t. What he felt for her was ten long years in the building. But how did she feel? She’d come to him for sex and agreed to a two-week fling. If she actually wanted more from him, that changed everything, right? Then again, going for what he wanted with her could mean losing everything else close to his heart.

How could he have it all?

“If you’re running late, I can cook dinner,” he said.

“Since when did you start cooking?” she shot back, the smirk on her face touching him in deep places.

“I can cook.”

“Are you forgetting the time you nearly burned down our kitchen making mac and cheese?”

He laughed. “I was fourteen. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No, you’re not. And neither am I.”

“Yeah,” he said, his cock thickening. “You haven’t been a kid in a very long time, Kat.”

Warmth moved into her cheeks. She had to be thinking about last night. He hoped she was. Hoped she realized how good they were together.

“What, ah…what are you going to make?” she asked.

“Scallop linguine.”

She stared at him for a long moment, unblinking. “That’s my favorite.”

“I know.”

She took another sip of coffee and glanced at her watch, turning from him. “I need to get going.”

“Me, too.”

They both pushed from the table, and she darted to the bathroom. Sebastian tidied up the dishes while he waited his turn. She came back, dressed in a tight pencil skirt and a white blouse. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever set eyes on.

“I guess I’ll see you tonight,” she said, grabbing her dry cleaning slip from her briefcase. She handed it to him and reached for her keys. “You’ll need a spare key.”

“I already have one.” When she’d moved here years ago, Danny had insisted she give Sebastian a key for emergencies. Christ, how many times had he wanted to use it to slip inside and crawl into her bed with her?

She nodded. “Right, I forgot.” She turned to go.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

She frowned. “I don’t think so.”

He crooked his finger. She hesitated a moment, then stepped up to him. “Jesus, you smell good,” he murmured as possessiveness spiked. He cupped the back of her neck and dropped a soft, good-morning kiss onto her mouth. Only problem was she tasted too good to let go. The kiss deepened, and she moaned. Her hands went to his body, and he slid his all over her, unable to stop touching. Tightness lodged in his throat, and he knew if he didn’t let her go now, he never would. He took a painful breath and inched back.

He had to let her go, right?

Or did he?