JAY-JAY POV
I woke up with pain in my legs, every muscle aching like I'd run a marathon in my sleep.
The sheets were tangled around me, the air heavy with the memory of last night.
Keifer stirred beside me, his warmth pressing against my side.
Before I could even move, he leaned in and kissed my forehead.
Soft.
Gentle.
"Morning," Keifer said, his voice low, still rough with sleep.
"Mhh," I mumbled, burying my face deeper into the pillow.
"You lost control first," I teased, my lips curving into a small, smug smile.
He chuckled, leaning closer until his breath tickled my skin. "Hard to control myself when I have a beautiful wife next to me," he said, kissing my lips.
I blushed. Of course I did. Heat spread across my cheeks, betraying me, and his grin widened like he'd won some secret battle.
I wanted to argue, to roll my eyes, to remind him that he was the one who snapped first. But the truth was, I liked this version of him — soft, unguarded, kissing me like I was the only thing that mattered.
And maybe... just maybe... I didn't mind losing control if it was with him.
"Get up, I'll make breakfast," Keifer said with that casual authority of his.
"Fine," I muttered, dragging myself into the bathroom for a quick shower.
By the time I came back, wrapped in one of Keifer's shirts, he was gone. I padded downstairs and found him shirtless at the stove, muscles flexing as he worked.
I slipped behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "What are you cooking?" I asked, resting my cheek against his back.
"My wife's favorite dish," he replied smoothly.
"And that is?" I teased.
"French toast," he said without missing a beat.
I smiled, pressing a kiss to his bare back. He chuckled. "Jay, I think you're taking advantage of me."
"How?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Well," he said, flipping the toast, "you're kissing me while I'm cooking. That's dangerous, you know."
I laughed softly. "Dangerous? Please. You're the one shirtless in the kitchen. That's practically asking for trouble."
He turned his head slightly, smirking at me over his shoulder. "Trouble, huh? Is that what you call it when you can't keep your lips off me?"
I rolled my eyes, but the blush betrayed me. "Just finish cooking, idiot," I muttered, though my lips brushed his shoulder again anyway.
"Fine," I said, pulling my arms away with a teasing pout. "If you don't want kisses, then you won't get them."
I stepped back, crossing my arms, pretending to be serious.
His shoulders stiffened just slightly, and I caught the flicker of a grin tugging at his lips.
"Oh really?" he asked, turning halfway toward me, spatula still in hand. "You think you can just take them away like that?"
I raised my chin, feigning innocence. "Exactly. No more kisses for you."
He smirked, eyes narrowing in mock challenge. "Jay, you should know better than to start a war you can't win."
He crossed the room in two long strides, his eyes locked on mine. Before I could react, his arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground.
I let out a startled laugh as he spun me, the world blurring in dizzy circles. And then, before I could catch my breath, his lips crashed against mine.
It wasn't careful. It wasn't planned. It was wild, spontaneous, the kind of kiss that steals the air from your lungs and leaves you trembling.
When he set me back down, my legs were shaky, my heart pounding. He grinned, smug and breathless, like he'd just won another round of our endless game.
"See?" he whispered against my lips. "You can't stay mad at me."
And damn it... he was right.
He kissed me again, deep and lingering, but I pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips, "I'm hungry... go finish the French toast."
He froze for a second, staring at me like I'd just committed the ultimate crime. Then he laughed, low and incredulous. "Seriously? You're choosing French toast over me?"
I smirked, brushing my thumb across his jaw. "Exactly. Priorities, Keifer."
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he turned back to the stove.
But I saw the grin tugging at his lips, the way his shoulders relaxed.
He loved it — the banter, the push‑pull, the way I never let him win too easily.
And honestly? French toast made by a shirtless Keifer... Yeah, that was worth the wait.
I, on the other hand, hopped up onto the counter, swinging my legs casually. Keifer's shirt hung loose on me, but as I shifted, it rode up, shortening just enough to make his eyes flick toward me.
I smirked, pretending not to notice, scrolling through my phone like it was the most natural thing in the world. But I knew exactly what I was doing. And judging by the way his spatula paused mid‑air, so did he.
"Jay..." he said slowly, his voice dipping into that dangerous, teasing tone. I raised my brows innocently. "What? I'm just sitting here."
He turned back to the stove, finishing the last golden slice of French toast with practiced ease. The smell filled the kitchen, warm and sweet, wrapping around us like a blanket.
He plated it carefully, then crossed the room to me. "Here," he said, handing me the dish.
Before I could even thank him, he leaned down and kissed me — soft, lingering, tasting faintly of sugar and heat.
I smiled against his lips, my heart fluttering in a way I couldn't hide.
French toast in one hand, Keifer's kiss in the other... Honestly, I wasn't sure which one was sweeter.
I sat on the counter, fork in hand, nibbling at the French toast. "Aren't you hungry?" I asked, glancing at him.
"Yeah, I am," he said, his eyes never leaving me.
"Then come and eat," I teased, pointing at the plate.
Instead of reaching for the food, he closed the distance, his lips finding mine.
I froze for a second, startled, before pulling back just enough to murmur, "I told you to eat."
He smirked, brushing his thumb across my cheek.
"And I am," he whispered, his voice low and playful. "I'm eating my breakfast... which just happens to be your lips."
Heat rushed to my face, and I couldn't help the blush that betrayed me.
French toast forgotten, I realized Keifer had already decided what his favorite dish was.
"Keifer," I called out.
"Hmm?" he answered, sliding onto the counter beside me, stealing bites of my French toast and slipping in kisses between them.
"Let's go somewhere today," I said, leaning against him.
"Where?" he asked, curious.
"Maybe the amusement park," I suggested, picturing the chaos and laughter.
"Yeah, we could go," he replied, already pulling out his phone.
I narrowed my eyes. "And don't you dare book the whole amusement park just for us."
He paused, smirking. "How do you know that's what I was about to do?"
I kissed his cheek, smiling softly. "Because I know my husband very well."
He chuckled, shaking his head, but the grin on his face told me I was right.
After breakfast, I slipped off the counter and padded back upstairs to our room.
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