“I’m hungry.”

“As hungry as you were last night?” She’s looking at the bowl, not me.

“Is that an invitation or a request for a repeat?” I move in behind her, pressing my sort-of hard-on against the small of her back. “Because I’m definitely interested in more of last night, and more of this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Well, maybe not the fainting part, or you trying to dice off your fingertip, but this—” I gesture to the kitchen and kiss her shoulder. “What we’re doing here, I like this. I’ve never done it before.”

“Had someone faint on you?” She stirs the icing, but her breath hitches and a flush creeps up her neck.

“Woken up to someone I like making me breakfast.”

“No one’s ever made you breakfast?”

“Nope. Except for Skye, but that doesn’t count since she’s my stepmom, and everything she makes comes from a package.”

Sunny turns around in my arms, her expression pensive. “What about when you were a kid? Didn’t anyone make you breakfast before school and stuff?”

“Mostly I ate cereal in the morning, since it was just me and my dad and he’s a sucky cook.” I stare at the cupboards, taking in the details. Memories of my mom are vague. Also, most of them aren’t nice, and it’s not something I talk about much. Up until now I’ve avoided it with Sunny.

Sunny runs a finger up my arm and over my shoulder until she reaches my jaw. She curls it around my chin and angles my head so I’m looking at her, not into space. “What happened to your mom?”

I twirl a lock of her hair between my fingers, considering how much I want to share. Fanning out the end, I brush it back and forth across my lips before I speak. “She had an inoperable brain tumor. She died when I was three.”

Sunny strokes my cheek. Her affection doesn’t feel like it’s made of pity. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrug. “I don’t remember her much. She got headaches a lot. They thought they were migraines. Mostly I remember her being in the hospital. Then it was me and my dad for the most part. Even before she was gone it was my dad taking care of things.”

“That must’ve been so hard.”

“It was hardest on my dad. I was too young to get what was going on. I wasn’t an easy kid. I had lots of energy. School was hard for me. I needed a lot of attention, and my dad worked long hours.”

I leave out the hardest part to talk about: that none of Dad’s attempted relationships worked out because of me. Single dads are only cool in movies. It was clear early on that school wasn’t going to be my thing. I didn’t pick things up as fast as I should have, so I lagged behind the other kids. One chick told my dad she didn’t sign up for a special-needs kid. She dropped the “R” bomb. I never saw her again after that.

There weren’t any other girlfriends until my junior year of high school—none that I ever met until my dad started dating Skye, Vi’s mom, anyway. She was nice and fun to be around.

“Sidney raised you on his own?”

“Yeah, for the most part. I spent a lot of time at Randy’s when I was growing up. His mom cooked and stuff, but it was different.” Not that his situation was much easier. His dad played professional hockey and was gone a lot. His parents divorced when he was eleven.

Sunny’s eyes go the kind of liquid I equate with sadness.

“Anyways, it’s nice to have someone want to do things for me.”

I don’t want to talk about depressing shit. It reminds me that this thing me and Sunny have going is complicated. Before her, I never would’ve considered spending a weekend with the same woman. In the past, last night would’ve been followed by either more of the same come morning, or a quiet departure on the part of the bunny. If it was one of the girls I saw more regularly, I might make coffee or order in some breakfast before I sent her on her way, but none of them ever went out of their way to make breakfast for me. It feels good—less like I’m an occasional convenience and more like I’m important beyond my ability to provide orgasms in bulk.

I reach for one of the cinnamon buns, done with talking. A puff of steam follows, and my fingers instantly heat to the point of being uncomfortable. Still, I want to end this conversation, and I’m hungry.

“Those are still too hot!” Sunny grabs it out of my hand.

I hold onto her wrist and try to pull it toward my mouth, but she drops it.

“That was a waste!” I debate eating it even though it’s been on the floor.

“It was burning my fingers!”

“Let me see.” The tips are pink and covered in cinnamon-bun goo, so I suck each one into my mouth and finish cleaning them off with a kiss. “Better?”

“Better.”

I push the bowl of icing out of the way and lift her onto the counter. “I know what we can do while we wait for those to cool.” I part her legs with my palms and step between them, pulling her close to the edge. My erection sticks straight out under the apron. Sunny reaches around and pulls the tie, setting me free.

“You have the best ideas.”

“I know, right?” I pull her tank over her head and palm her breasts.

She wraps her warm fingers around my cock and starts stroking. We make out, feeling each other up until Sunny lets go and shoves her shorts down her thighs. Everything goes from playful to frantic when she hooks her legs around my waist and pulls me in tight against her. I rub my cock against wet pussy. Which is when I remember that all the condoms are upstairs, in the bedroom.