Mira's POV

I turned just as he walked into the kitchen. He’d changed out of the sweatpants into dark slacks and a crisp button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked put-together and serious, but his eyes were still dark when they landed on me. On the way his shirt looked on my body. On my bare legs. On the way I was standing there cooking for him like I belonged in this kitchen.

He came up behind me, wrapped one strong arm around my waist, and pulled me back against his chest. His other hand reached past me to turn off the stove. The bacon kept sizzling...