His lips quirked. “Hey.”

Yeah. A rough, drowsy, deep voice with all the rest.

Dream material.

Ren kept talking.

“Just in case you didn’t get my message last night, pretty fuckin’ pleased you came by to accept my apology.”

I felt my lips tip up.

His eyes watched.

I felt my happy place pulse.

His eyes moved to mine; my happy place must have communicated its happiness on my face because his face got dark. His arm, already around me, tightened, and he dragged me up his chest, even as he rolled. His body pinned mine to the bed as his lips covered mine for a deep, wet morning kiss that was so damned good, it made my happy place pound.

Ren then pressed a knee between my legs. I opened them in invitation, and for my graciousness, I got a hard muscled thigh pressed tight against my happy place.

I moaned down his throat.

He pushed his hips against my thigh and groaned down mine.

His happy place was happy, too.

I decided I needed to do something about making it happier.

So I did.

As did he.

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, we were both still breathing a little heavily. Ren’s face was in my neck. He was buried deep inside me. Our skin was misted with damp. The fingers of one of my hands were in his hair. My other arm was curved tight around his back, and both my legs were wrapped around his thighs.

After a late night that included lots of mind-blowing sex, I had just discovered he was also good in the morning.

Why did I not find this surprising?

He lifted his head and his warm, sexy eyes caught mine. This had the result of making me catch my breath.

“You want me to make you breakfast?” he asked.

Jeez.

Seriously?

This guy could also cook?

I tested the waters.

“Are we talking instant oatmeal or eggs benedict?”

That got another lip quirk before he answered, “I was thinking croissants, eggs whatever way you want ‘em, fresh strawberries, bacon and tater tots.”

Did he say tater tots?

For breakfast?

“Did you say tater tots?” I asked in order to confirm.

“Baby.” His hips pressed into mine. I bit my lip at how good that felt and his face dipped close. “Tater tots rock breakfast.”

Ren Zano ate tater tots for breakfast and served them up to his fuck buddies.

He was a dream.

“I’m totally down for breakfast,” I answered.

At that he smiled and my world ended.

Again.

Because I wanted that smile every morning right after mind-blowing sex and right before my tater tots.

And I wanted it for a lifetime.

Don’t ask me how I knew this, I just did. Deep down, I knew it. Right to the very heart of me.

But I didn’t let on.

Again.

* * * * *

Forty-five minutes later…

“You’re right. Tater tots rock breakfast,” I said to Ren, incidentally saying it around a mouth full of ketchup-covered tater tots.

He grinned at me.

I returned the favor (closed mouthed, because food grins were gross) and looked down to my plate of food.

We were standing in his kitchen. Or he was. He’d cooked for me while I made coffee and then watched him cook. His scrambled eggs were fluffy, cheesy and delicious. His bacon was crisped to perfection. His croissants were bought fresh from a local bakery and they were buttery and amazing.

But when he offered me my filled plate and told me to take it to the dining room, I hefted my ass up on the counter and commenced eating.

This might have been rude, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I accepted his apology. I accepted his body. I gave him mine. That was as far as this was going to go.