ROSETTE

We made dinner. Well, Axel did.

He said he wasn't so good with cooking, but he moved around the kitchen like a pro, a heavenly aroma filling the house. 

I sat at the counter and watched him. He was shirtless, so my eyes were fixed on his naked upper body, watching his muscles flex as he moved, sweat dripping down his back, between his spine, and I wanted to lick it off.

“Sweetheart, you’ll burn a hole into my back with that heated gaze of yours,” he said ...