I love a man who can cook. I was lucky enough to have found a man who could cook and sing. A sexy man with many talents is a dangerous thing.

He was making berry pancakes with cream cheese and berry filling, one of my favorite breakfast dishes. Even if it was almost noon. He moved skillfully around the kitchen, measuring, chopping, adding things to the bowl. He hummed as he went, probably without even realizing it was my favorite song. He’d written it years ago, well before we met. Before life had beaten him down and love had twisted his heart. Back when he was still full of hope and dreams and good intentions. Whenever I heard the lyrics I liked to imagine that man was still somewhere inside of him.

A small sigh escaped my lips as I drank in the sight of him. His short dark hair spiked wildly with no particular sense of direction. The sleeves of his blue and white plaid shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tanned forearms. Calloused fingers moved quickly and as effortlessly as if he was playing the guitar. Long lashes framed bright cornflower blue eyes which I got just a glimpse of every now and then when his head moved just so. His lips were full and when he looked up and saw me staring intently, they curved up at the corners into an impish grin that made my toes curl.

He lifted the spoon from the mixing bowl and carried it over to me, one hand underneath to protect the tile floor from drips. I took a tentative lick and closed my eyes, breathing in deeply. “Oh, my God, that tastes like sin.” He put the spoon to his own lips and I felt the warmth of desire spread through me. He could make even the simple act of licking a spoon sexy as hell. He scrunched his nose and shrugged modestly. “Mmmm. Not bad.”

Moving back to his place behind the kitchen island, I watched him continue. His hands moved quickly and he still hummed softly. I felt butterflies form in my stomach. I was completely and hopelessly in love with him. I wanted to know this wasn’t temporary – this feeling, this thing between us. He’d been burned pretty badly in the past but, hadn’t we all been hurt? We’d said the words, shared the passion. I knew he loved me. I just didn’t know if he loved me forever.