Alexander (CENTURIES series: Book #1)

16

I woke up with a soreness in between my legs and... to a really weird smell in the air. Not the kind of smell I'd expect after having been engulfed in the sweet fragrance of pure sex all night. This was the kind that made me want to wrinkle my nose. Almost like... a fart.

I turned over on Alex's bed to instantly accuse him of tearing one, but to my surprise, his half of the bed was empty.

Again, not really what I expected after losing my virginity last night. I'd expected to wake up to cuddling and kissing and maybe even some lazy hand-stuff, but left alone in a now cold bed, I realized that was perhaps expecting too much of Alex.

I rolled over on the bed again, prepared to sleep some more and hopefully wake up to Alex being back from wherever he was, when suddenly, a loud metallic clatter from downstairs caught my ear, followed by a curse.

Oh, God.

I immediately sat up in the bed and now actually took a moment to sniff the air properly. Eggs. It smelled like eggs. Not good eggs, more like... bad eggs. Very bad eggs.

The clatter of metal... the curse... the eggs smell...

"Oh, my God, he's fucking cooking," I whispered mortified and then immediately shot to my feet. I grabbed his white button-up shirt from last night and quickly put it on with my panties, before making my way down the stairs.

I made it all the way to the kitchen, the smell getting nauseatingly stronger, and then found Alexander standing in the kitchen in only his black sweats that hung deliciously off his hips. He was stirring a pot on the stove with a deep frown from what I could see. He cursed again.

"Uh, Alex..."

He made a startled jump and whipped around, giving me a mouthwatering view of his torso. "Soph, Jesus! I didn't hear you come down. Did I wake you? Crap, I was trying to be quiet."

I bit my lip not to grin and slowly walked up to him. He welcomed me with a warm embrace. "You didn't wake me. The smell did."

"The smell..." He muttered, leaning his chin on top of my head. "I really wanted to be romantic and bring you breakfast in bed. I was hoping I'd be back before you woke up. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I smiled when I felt him kiss my hair and lazily stroke my back with his hands. My own were feeling the small scratches of scraped skin I left on him last night on his back.

He hummed lowly and nuzzled his nose into my hair. "You look good in my shirt, by the way. See-through suits you."

I chuckled a little and then looked into the pot on the stove where three inches of oil and two broken egg yolks were swimming around, looking absolutely disgusting. "What the hell were you trying to make?"

"Fried eggs," He replied and drew back to look into the pot as well. "I found this book in my mom's cabinet called 'Cooking for Dummies' and it had this seemingly simple recipe that told how to fry eggs. It said to use a pot if I was afraid of getting splurted on by the eggs as they cooked, and I was, so I took a pot. It then said to put some oil in and carefully crack the eggs in afterwards. Then I remembered how they make fries at Macca's," He said, frowning. "They have that vat thingy filled with oil and they put the fries in there, and then when they come up, they're all like crispy-golden and delicious and—"