Only you | Derek Morgan

Not even a chub?

D E R E K ' S P O V

Whisking up some eggs in a bowl, I pour them into the hot pan with the seasoned vegetables.

With my two week mandatory bed rest now complete, it's needless to say I'm happy to get back into my routine.

Once the omelette is fully cooked, I use the spatula to carefully transfer it to a plate, ready to be eaten by me. And Layla. Although, already anticipating her reaction, I think it might take some convincing on my part to get her to try it.

Layla is currently upstairs having her 'everything' shower that I was so rudely excluded from. She started talking about hair oiling, scalp massages and charcoal face masks and I pretty much tuned out and left her to it.

She came with me to my follow up appointment this morning where the small scar on my stomach was examined and the doctor concluded that it was healed and gave me the all clear on 'strenuous activities'.

After two weeks without sex, I was ready to bend Layla over the examination table in the doctors office, fuck her up against the wall in the elevator or I was even willing to wait until we got back to the car. Layla however, vetoed all my ideas. She said we had to wait until later because she has a surprise for me, which I'm praying is lingerie. Or not. Anything works.

"Derek?" Layla calls out followed by the sound of her soft footsteps pattering down the wooden stairs. "Where are you? You need to feel my legs. They're so fucking soft."

"In the kitchen!"

The door swings open and soft is the last word I would choose to describe how I feel when she walks into the room in just my shirt, glowing like a goddess, the smell of freshness surrounding her.

She hops up to sit on the countertop, grinning when she throws one leg over my shoulder. "Feel."

Trying not to let my gaze completely focus between her open legs and the tiny pair of panties she's wearing underneath that shirt, I gaze my hand up her calf. "Woah," I breath at how fucking soft and smooth her skin is. "You weren't lying."

"I know," She smiles, easing her leg down from my shoulder. "What smells so good?"

I turn around and grab the plate. "It's an omelette."

Layla's face pales when her eyes float between me and the plate. "Derek, why is it green?"

Here's that convincing I knew was coming. "There's spinach in it." I bring the fork her lips. "Taste it."

Layla presses her lips together like a toddler refusing to eat their vegetables, turning her head away. "No thank you. Eggs should never be green."

My chest rumbles with laughter. "You drama queen. Just taste it—"

The sound of Layla ring tone cuts through the air and she sighs in relief that it's giving her an out. "Thank god," She breathes, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

I admit defeat on this one and taste the eggs myself. Just as I expected, it's so good. I bring the fork to her lips again and she swats my hand away, laughing silently.

A smile crosses Layla's lips and she turns her attention back to the phone. "For you? I'm never busy."

My mouth drops open. I can't hear who's on the other end of the line but making plans right in front of me when I was scheduled to give her the best sex of her life tonight, all night? Offended isn't the word.

"Will you make me eat green things?" Layla asks down the phone, her eyes teasingly narrowed in my direction. She smiles a few seconds later. "Good, I'll be over in twenty. Bye."