Kyler Jenner, the older twin brother of Kylie, has been noted as a model, a music producer, and a business man, helping his family navigate through the ups and downs. Throughout his career, he's been able to help the Kar-Jenner family with their com...
I wake up to the soft glow of the morning sun spilling through the curtains, warmth around me like a blanket. The first thing I feel is Kyler's arm draped lazily over my waist, his breath steady as Stormi cuddles into his side, sleeping soundly, curled up with the same peaceful expression she had when we finally got her to bed last night.
Babysitting her wasn't even a challenge, at least not with Kyler. He had a natural ease with her, from brushing her curls after bath time to singing to her in that soft, lazy voice of his until she finally drifted off. Watching him had done something to me, stirred something deep inside. Baby fever. It's ridiculous, but the thought lingers as I carefully slip out from under his arm, making sure not to wake either of them.
I tiptoe downstairs and start on breakfast—eggs, crispy bacon, and French toast, knowing both Kyler and Stormi will devour it. As I whisk the eggs, my mind drifts back to last night. Kyler had been so patient, so effortlessly good with her, like he is with his other nieces and nephews, but Stormi had a special place in his heart being his twin's daughter. He'd carried her upstairs, sang her a lullaby, tucked her in with us, and stayed still until he eventually found sleep. I never thought I'd be the type to swoon over a guy with a toddler, but here I am.
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I'm lost in my thoughts when I feel him before I see him, Kyler's warm hands snake around my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips find my neck, pressing lazy, sleep-heavy kisses along my skin, his breath still thick with exhaustion.
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KYLER: "Mm, you left me cold up there." He murmurs against my shoulder, his voice rough and low.
STASS: I laughed softly, tilting my head to the side as his lips continue their path. "Figured you two could sleep in a little. Breakfast is almost done."
He hums, clearly more interested in me than the food. But eventually, he pulls away just enough to grab some juice from the fridge, rubbing a hand down his face as he tries to wake up properly.
STASS: "I was thinking..." I begin, flipping the last piece of French toast. "Before you leave for tour in March, maybe we can take a little trip. Just us. Greece? Or Turks?"
