𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝

Chapter 5- Lydia

The first thing I smell in the morning is the heavenly scent of strong coffee and the pancake batter Theo is preparing, it's his turn to make breakfast today, and he's doing a damn great job at it.

I unlock the bedroom door and drag myself lazily to the open kitchen, stopping in my tracks when I witness shirtless Theo standing over the stove, his masculine side profile and overall facial symmetry is of a Greek god's, his bicep enlarges as he flips a pancake midair, which lands perfectly on its other side in the pan, my eyes lingers on the tattoo on his broad chest, travelling to his firm oblique muscles and abs, then lower to the curve of his rear... oh god, I can imagine my nails digging into it, pushing his hips into-

"Morning," his deep voice cuts my not-so-polite trail of thoughts.

"Morning," my reply comes out a little too breathless for my liking, "since when did you wake up?" I round the kitchen island, sitting on the bar stool as I watch the muscles on his large back flexing when he moves around, can't deny it's a sight I'm enjoying and can get used to.

"You're assuming I've slept?"

I know he has been working on his career and building his own company, but I didn't realize he's depriving himself of sleep because of it. And even with that knowledge, it's hard to tell he's tired or overworked because he looks so fresh, with no receding hairline, no bent back or pale skin or dark eye circles or anything.

"That's sad, you need to relax a bit, you'll grow grey hairs from stressing," my gaze falls on the paper mid-counter, I pull it towards me, reading its contents, it's our pact that we agreed on yesterday, each rule numbered and written in a graceful penmanship with a TJK signature at its ends, and a space where I'm supposed to sign.

"I'm fine." He says curtly.

Oh yes... you really are.

A smile pulls my lips, "oh, you were serious."

He turns off the stove, lays the final pancake on the plate and turns to face me, palms resting on either side of the marble counter, making me face his chest and toned abs, an intrusive thought tells me to run my fingertips over his skin, or worse, my tongue, but I refrain.

I look up so that our gazes meet, "It's a temporary thing till you find yourself a place, but while you're under my roof, I'd rather you follow these." He taps the paper, "Now review the rules. See if they work for you."

"So I expect these rules apply to us both, yeah?"

"Harper, this is my lifestyle, I'm not the one having a hard time being a rule follower." He pulls a pen out from his pocket, laying it on the paper, "and you were drunk last night, figured you might miss some rules if not written down."

"How considerate." I sign my name in the space.

"One of my many great qualities," He smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening.

He whirls to finish up our breakfast while I go through every rule he's written down.

1. Both are expected to clean up after themselves.
2. chores and laundry are individual tasks.
3. No personal belongings should be left out of their original place.
4. Both are expected to take turns when cooking.
5. One is expected to respect the other's boundaries and personal space.
6. Keep the fact that we "temporarily" live together a secret.
7. No sex with third parties in the penthouse.
8. No third parties allowed in the penthouse.
9. No falling in love allowed under this roof.
10. Breaking any of the stated rules will lead to evacuation.

Geez, who hurt him?

And who knew Theodore Kingsley was such a control freak?

Resting the end of the pen on my bottom lip, I ask, "Does the seventh rule apply to us?"