As Pauline expected, Brandon has just finished his workout and is looking luscious in a black muscle-cut tank top and slim fit gym shorts. His arms and shoulders are glistening with beads of sweat. His body has defined cuts with enough bulk on his biceps and pectorals. How can he look so glorious in everything he wears? My fingers suddenly itch to rub his arms, his wide chest, and his stomach.

This man. How could I not fall in love with him?

I avert my eyes to the food and place the dishes on his dining table by the window.

“Good morning. I have your breakfast. But it’s not on your list, by the way.”

He moves over to me, still panting, and kisses my cheek. “Good morning. When did you ever follow the list?” he jokes, smiling. And God, even if he’s covered with sweat, his natural masculine odor and mild soap smell are divine.

I pout. “I follow the list, you know, but I’ve added some variation.”

“Doesn’t matter. I always love your cooking.” He disappears into his closet and comes
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