“What’s this?” Stone asks, coming into the kitchen wearing a pair of loose gym pants. They’re cinched around his waist, the string hanging down, and the pants themselves hang low on him, revealing this perfect ‘V’ in his muscles. I thought I might have imagined just how amazing his body looked yesterday. If anything, he looks better. I bite my lip as I take in all that is him. A shiver runs through me and I can feel my panties get wet. I’m lucky they didn’t spontaneously combust. I can say one thing for Tally—she knows how to hit the motherlode. “Carly?”

“What?”

“My eyes are up here, baby.”

It’s then I realize that my eyes are glued to his crotch—specifically the outline of his dick. A dick which seems to be rising with every second that ticks by.

Holy moly!

“I’m sorry, what?” I say, clearing my throat and looking up at him, trying to appear innocent—and not the woman who just checked out his package like it was an ice cream cone and she had been on a diet for way too many years.

“I said what is all of this?” he says with a smirk that lets me know I’m not fooling him. I look at his face, and the half smile he’s wearing, and the way his long hair falls back on his shoulders and shrouds part of his face. This is a different view of him, and it’s just as good, if that’s possible. Yeah. Tally really, really knows how to hit the motherlode.

“You have a really nice smile.”

His eyes dilate and he seems surprised at my words and then his smile broadens and I feel a hundred butterflies take flight in my stomach. Definitely a great smile.

He steps in close to me, his hand coming up to slide against the side of my face and hold me there, tenderly. He tilts my head to look up at him, and I do have to—despite the fact that he’s bending down. His hair seems to fan out, surrounding us and cocooning us from the rest of the world. I find I like that feeling a lot. Maybe Tally was right and Stone is the answer to everything.

“You still haven’t told me what all this is,” he says quietly, his voice deep and making me even wetter.

“All what?” I ask, confused and wondering if you can drown in someone’s eyes. He takes the forgotten spatula out of my hand and pulls back to wave it at me. I watch the movement for a moment, not understanding for a second. Then it hits me. “Oh! I’m fixing breakfast.”

“It smells good,” he says and sadly, he steps away from me. I resist letting a sigh out and turn back to the stove after commandeering my spatula again.

“It’s stuffed French toast with strawberries. Though I’m not sure how good it will be. I usually use fresh strawberries, but you didn’t have those so I improvised with strawberry jam.”

“Not many strawberries to be found around here this time of year,” he agrees. He sits down at the table and I bring him his plate. He’s already grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I don’t need it, but because he’s a man and men seem to like that kind of thing, I’ve also fried him some bacon, so I put that in front of him too. He studies it all so intently that it makes me nervous. I go back to make my own toast, needing a break.

“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” I assure him, afraid he might be upset I’ve been making myself at home in his kitchen. “I just assumed you’d want to eat before you went to work. I guess I should have asked about using your kitchen.”

“It will be our kitchen, Carly, and it’s not that.”

His words make me turn around. “But it’s something?”

“It’s just that you mentioned numerous times in your letters how you didn’t like cooking,” he says and I try not to let the guilt show on my face, but I can feel heat rise just the same. I quickly turn back around. I search for an answer—one that won’t be a lie, because I really like Stone and I’m starting to really hope this works out. Before, it was my only choice and now… it seems like where I’m supposed to be.

That sounds stupid, considering I don’t really know Stone and it’s only been one day, but it is true just the same.

“I didn’t like cooking at my old home. The kitchen was really small and outdated. The stove only had one working burner and to be honest, cooking for one is kind of depressing.”

“But in your letter you mentioned you had a lot of friends and that you’d been in a lot of relationships,” he counters, and I bite my lip. Why would Tally tell him that?

Probably because she didn’t want him to know what a loser I am.

“Not that many.” I shrug. “How is it?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“It’s really good,” he answers and at least that makes me smile. “Come eat with me, Carly.”

“I was just going to have mine after you left for work. Do I need to pack your lunch?”

“I’m not working today, Carly.”

“You’re not?” I ask, surprised. I’m also nervous at the thought of spending the whole day with Stone. I’m not sure how that’s going to work.

“Nope. I took the day off to spend with my bride-to-be.”

“Um.”

“Sit down here and eat with me, Carly,” he orders and after a minute of staring into his eyes, I gather my plate and sit down—hoping I don’t stumble on any more things that Tally has said that I don’t have any idea about.