The familiar comfort of James's apartment wrapped around them like a warm embrace as they returned from their workout, both refreshed from quick showers and glowing with the satisfaction of a good morning session. Victoria had changed into a white singlet and soft cotton shorts that left her straight, fair legs exposed, while James wore simple joggers and a fitted tank top that still showed the slight dampness at his collar from his freshly washed hair.
They naturally gravitated toward the kitchen, moving with the easy synchronization of two people who were becoming increasingly comfortable in each other's space.
"I'll handle the fruit," James announced, already reaching for the bowl of mixed berries and the small cutting board. He selected a ripe mango from the counter, testing its give with gentle fingers.
"Perfect," Victoria said, adjusting her white singlet with practiced efficiency. The soft cotton shorts she wore left her straight, fair legs exposed, and James found himself stealing glances as she moved around his kitchen. "I'll make us a proper English breakfast. Light, but filling."
James positioned himself at the island where he could watch Victoria work while he peeled and sliced. There was something mesmerizing about watching her navigate his kitchen, she moved with the same focused determination she brought to everything else, but there was a relaxed quality to her movements that he rarely got to see.
"Where do you keep your good olive oil?" she asked, opening and closing cabinet doors with the methodical approach of someone conducting a thorough investigation.
"Second cabinet from the left, top shelf," James replied, unable to keep the smile from his voice. If he had a tail, he was certain it would be wagging with pure contentment right now.
"And your herbs? Please tell me you have fresh herbs and not just those sad dried things."
"Refrigerator door, in the clear container. I keep basil, chives, and parsley."
Victoria's face lit up with approval. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."
If only you knew all the reasons I like you, James thought, watching as she efficiently gathered ingredients. She had that little crease between her eyebrows that appeared whenever she was concentrating, the same expression she wore during important meetings, but somehow softer here in his kitchen wearing his clothes.
"Eggs?" she called out, already opening the refrigerator.
"Bottom shelf, left side. They're the good ones from the farmer's market."
"Of course they are," Victoria murmured with amusement, and James caught the fond exasperation in her tone.
As she began whisking eggs with quick, confident strokes, James found himself completely absorbed by the domestic picture she made. Her dark hair was still slightly damp from her shower, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. The white singlet fit her perfectly, and every so often she would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear with the back of her wrist to avoid getting egg on her fingers.
"Mushrooms?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"Crisper drawer."
"Good mushrooms or grocery store sadness?"
James laughed. "What do you think?"
"Shiitake and cremini," Victoria concluded with satisfaction, retrieving exactly what she'd hoped to find. "I'm impressed, James. Your kitchen is actually well-stocked."
"Did you expect otherwise?"
"I expected the basics. But you have proper ingredients. Real vanilla extract, not imitation. Quality olive oil. Fresh herbs." She paused in her chopping to look at him directly. "Most men your age survive on protein powder and takeout."
"I'm not most men."
The simple statement hung in the air between them, loaded with meaning that neither of them chose to examine too closely. Victoria's cheeks flushed slightly, and she returned her attention to the sautéing mushrooms with perhaps more focus than was strictly necessary.
James finished with the fruit, arranging berries and mango slices in a beautiful pattern on a shared plate. The comfortable sounds of Victoria cooking, the gentle sizzle of eggs, the soft scrape of her spatula against the pan, her occasional satisfied hums, created a soundtrack that felt startlingly like home.
"Plates?" Victoria asked, turning off the heat under her perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs.
"Cabinet above the coffee maker."
She retrieved two plates and began artfully arranging their breakfast, the creamy eggs garnished with fresh chives, the caramelized mushrooms glistening with olive oil, and two slices of perfectly golden toast. It looked like something from a high-end brunch café.
"This smells incredible," James said, setting the fruit plate on the small dining table by the window where morning light streamed in through the gauzy curtains.
Victoria carried their plates over with obvious pride. "It should. I don't cook often, but when I do, I do it properly."
She was about to take her seat across from him when James's hands found her waist, gently but firmly pulling her down onto his lap instead. Victoria startled, her eyes going wide with surprise, but then her expression softened into something warm and delighted.
"James," she said, but there was no protest in her voice. Instead, she settled against him with a contented sigh, wrapping her arms around his neck in a spontaneous hug. "I realize that you're like a big baby sometimes."
The affectionate accusation made James's chest tighten with an emotion he wasn't quite ready to name. He tightened his arms around her, burying his face briefly in the curve of her neck where she smelled like his shower gel mixed with something uniquely her.
Victoria pulled back slightly, studying his face with those perceptive blue eyes before reaching for her fork. She cut a bite of the fluffy eggs and brought it to his mouth with the kind of natural intimacy that should have felt strange but instead felt perfect.
James chewed thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving her face. The eggs were perfectly seasoned, creamy without being wet, with just the right amount of herbs. "Delicious," he said with a genuine grin.
"I know," Victoria replied simply, matter-of-factly, as if his praise was nice but entirely expected.
James shook his head with fond exasperation. Well, it is Victoria, he thought. Some things don't change. And honestly, he wouldn't want them to. Her confidence, her complete lack of false modesty, the way she owned her talents without apology, it was all quintessentially her, and he loved every bit of it.
She brought another forkful toward his mouth, but this time her attention seemed to drift slightly, her gaze wandering to the way the morning light caught the gold flecks in his eyes. The momentary distraction was all James needed.
Instead of accepting the bite of food, he leaned forward and captured her lower lip between his own, sucking the soft flesh gently before giving it the lightest bite, tasting sun and sin all at once. The fork clattered forgotten to the plate as Victoria's breath caught.
The kiss started as playful theft but quickly transformed into something deeper, hungrier. James's hands tightened on her waist as Victoria's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. What had begun as a sweet domestic moment was rapidly becoming something else entirely, something that tasted like possibility and desire and the promise of where this perfect morning might lead them.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing slightly harder, Victoria's cheeks were flushed and James's eyes had darkened with an intensity that had nothing to do with breakfast and everything to do with the woman in his arms.
"James... the food," Victoria whispered, but she made no move to leave his lap.
"Yes Tori," James murmured against her lips, already leaning in for another taste of something far sweeter than anything they'd prepared in the kitchen.