Thank you @artrme on Instagram for making me this lovely artwork last year of Brett, Becca and some roses ;)

Becca

The smell of bacon cooking greeted me as I walked out of Brett's bathroom, freshly showered. He had left me a pair of his clothes to wear - sweatpants and a t-shirt that were way too big - folded into a neat pile outside his bathroom door.

I glanced at Brett's bed quickly. The covers were pulled up neatly, pillows in place, even the garbage littering his floor and dressers was missing. He must have cleaned his room while I was showering. I smiled at the thought.

My eyes widened as I spotted my pink bra on Brett's chair, standing out brightly amid all the neutral colours in his room. I grabbed it quickly and stuffed it under my jeans, hiding it from sight.

My lips pursed as I eyed the photo on his desk -- the photo of me. I could hide it in a drawer, but Brett would find it ...

Laughing to myself, I picked up the photo and placed it face down in a drawer in Brett's desk. He'd no doubt find it soon enough and place it back on his desk, but oh well. We'd take one of the two of us and have that framed soon to replace it.

Walking out of Brett's room, I traced our steps from last night through the hallway and down the stairs, following the smell of bacon and the sounds of Brett cooking until I was standing in the kitchen. I took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of bacon, coffee and ... waffles?

Wooden cabinets lined the walls, a large island with a marble countertop took up the middle of the space, with five bar stools on one side that opened up into the dining room. On the wall on the other side of the island were more cupboards, with a grey shiny fridge nestled in between.

My eyes immediately went to the stove, where Brett was standing with his back to me wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low around his waist. His arms were moving quickly, the hard muscles in his back shifting as he cooked what I assumed to be bacon on the stove top. His head was bobbing side-to-side and I noticed his phone atop the counter where it was plugged into a mini speaker, playing music that Brett was moving along to.

Standing there watching him made my heart warm. He was cooking me breakfast. The only person who had ever done that was my mother.

I stood there for a minute watching, the coolness from the tiles freezing my bare feet. The song came to an end and Brett reached out quickly and pressed a button on his phone before another song came crooning out. He bobbed his head in tune with the music as he placed the bacon from the pan onto a plate beside the stove. I almost giggled when he began to sway his hips to the side.

A loud beep rang through the kitchen and I watched Brett walk to his right before opening a white iron and taking out four perfect squares.

Waffles. I had been right. How did he know they were my favourite?

Slowly, I made my way through the kitchen and around the island, careful not to make a sound. I crept up behind Brett and he still hadn't noticed me -- he was completely concentrated on the food in front of him.

I slid my arms around Brett, pressing myself into his back. "Smells good," I murmured, standing on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss onto his skin that smelt warm like cinnamon.

Brett chuckled before he spun around quickly, making me shriek as he wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me even closer to his bare chest.

"Hey you," he murmured. His hair was still damp from his shower, droplets of water trailing onto his forehead, eyes glinting as they met mine and slowly trailed down my body.

Grinning, Brett leaned in and brushed his lips against mine slowly. "You smell --"

He stopped speaking and nudged his head back, cocking his face to the side as his brows furrowed. Then he leaned in and sniffed my hair.

I grabbed his face in my hands and pushed it backwards, laughing awkwardly. "What are you doing?"

Brett smirked before saying, "You smell like me."

I rolled my eyes and placed my hands on my hips. "I used your shower, Brett. Your shampoo. Your soap." Of course I was going to smell like him.

Brett's grin grew as he wrapped his hands around my waist once again, his hands lingering dangerously low. "You smelt like me last night too, Becs. For a different reason," he whispered.

The look in his eyes ... His hands moving slowly below my waist. I swallowed loudly, my heart picking up speed in my chest. Brett leaned down to kiss me as I stood up taller, impatiently meeting his face half way.

Brett wasted no time when his mouth met mine -- his kiss as passionate and demanding as it was last night. His tongue found mine quickly as he deepened the kiss, reminding me of a few hours ago when his lips trailed along my body.

Brett moaned softly as he bit my lip. Bending down, his hands held the back of my thighs as he lifted me up swiftly, placing me on the island behind us. Impatiently, he hooked my legs around his waist and pressed our bodies closer together, his mouth never leaving mine. I couldn't think straight -- Brett was seducing all my senses and everything else faded away aside from the feel of his body pressed into my own.

When his hands found their way to the bare skin of my back, roaming beneath my t-shirt, his touch brought back everything I felt for him last night. And just like that, I wanted more. I wanted him all over again.

Before Brett could lift my shirt off, I pulled back slightly as he kissed my neck. Something odd in the air was tingling my nose.

What is that ...

Then the smell of burning bacon hit me, the smoke rising from the stove catching my attention over Brett's shoulder.

I felt my eyes widen in horror. "Brett, the food!" I pushed him off me urgently, jumping off the counter and running to the stove. I reached for the pan handle but Brett's hand was already there, pulling it quickly off the stove and placing it on the counter.

"Fuck," Brett grumbled as he lifted the pan off the stove and placed it on the counter. His hand touched a button on the stovetop and the fan turned on, sucking in the smoke filling the air.

Brett swore under his breath again while examining the pan of bacon that was now burnt to an actual crisp. He looked at me sheepishly and ran a hand through his hair that was now sticking up wildly thanks to my fingers.

The look on his face and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation had me laughing hysterically. Was I seriously just about to have sex with my boyfriend in his freaking kitchen? The thought alone had my face feeling warm -- my heart feeling warmer.

Brett chuckled, most definitely noticing the blush on my cheeks and thankfully deciding to not tease me about it. He picked up the remaining food and carried it on his arm expertly, placing it on the island.

"Good thing I made extra. Have a seat," he nodded towards the stools on the other side of the island before turning around and opening the cupboard, taking out two plates.

Walking to the stools, I shook my head quickly to clear the cloudiness in my mind. Now that I could think straight without Brett so close, my hunger hit me like a freight train. I sat down on the stool with a plate in front of it as Brett handed me a mug of coffee.

"Thank you," I gushed, holding the cup up eagerly to my lips and savouring its warmth. After a few sips, I placed the cup on the counter and leaned forward on my elbows. "What did you make for me?" I asked eagerly, biting my lip.

Brett winked. "Only the best for you, my love." Turning around, he grabbed a plate of waffles and placed them on the counter in front of me. "First, we have waffles made by yours truly," he smiled a cocky grin, gesturing to himself pridefully.

I raised my eyebrows, giving him the you're-messing-with-me look.

Brett chuckled while placing a waffle on my plate. "Fine," he admitted reluctantly, "the mix came in a box. But I did add eggs and milk."

"Impressive," I teased, taking a big bite of the waffle and nearly moaning from how good it tasted. Brett's grin broadened as he watched me eat for a moment before he turned around to grab another plate.

Brett cleared his throat before he said, "Next, we have the bacon that managed to not burn while you were trying to rip my clothes off."

I broke off a piece of my waffle and threw it at his face -- Brett opened his mouth and caught it, chewing it smugly as he suppressed a laugh.

"You were the one trying to rip my shirt off," I clarified, chewing on a piece of bacon. "You're practically naked already," I gestured to his bare chest, "there's not much left to take off."

"In that case --" Brett reached down and untied his sweatpants, slowly pulling them down his waist to reveal his boxers underneath.

"Brett!" I screamed, nearly choking on my food.

He stopped abruptly and met his gaze to mine, staring at me flirtatiously from beneath his lashes. "Yes?" He asked innocently, bating his eyes at me.

Part of me wanted to smack him, the other part of me wanted him to ... continue. But the emptiness in my stomach and the heaps of food in front of me were too irresistible to pass up.

"Can we just ... eat?" I asked shyly, stuffing a big piece of the waffle in my mouth.

Brett smiled kindly and chuckled to himself as he adjusted his pants back on his waist line, tying them as he walked over to join me then sitting on the stool next to mine. He leaned in and kissed my cheek before piling food on his own plate.

I sipped my coffee while watching him. He filled his plate with two waffles and several pieces of bacon. He grabbed the syrup bottle and drenched - drenched - his entire plate in it until his food was swimming in syrup. I watched him in awe as he shoved half the waffle in his mouth at once, my coffee cup hovering in front of my face.

Mid chew, Brett glanced over and noticed me staring. "What? I'm a growing boy, Becca." He joked, syrup sliding down his chin as he spoke. He swallowed then grinned at me widely before shoving another large bite in his mouth.

Lost for words, I choked back a laugh and turned back to my own plate, savouring the food Brett prepared for me.

"Where's your mom?" I asked after a minute, expecting her to walk into the kitchen any moment.

Brett cut his waffle with his fork as he spoke. "No idea. She told me she was spending the night at her friend's house," he said nonchalantly, not seeming to be bothered by his mother's whereabouts.

"You're not worried about where she is?"

"Becca," he turned to me and smiled, "I can't follow her around and make sure she's alright. My mother can take of herself. As long as she's not with my father ..." he shrugged, "then it's fine with me."

"My mom thinks I'm at Cassie's house right now," I admitted. I texted her last night to tell her I was sleeping over there. Even Cassie was in on it.

Brett raised his eyebrows and stared at me in disbelief before throwing his head back and laughing hysterically.

"Your mother is going to think I'm corrupting you," he joked, lifting his coffee mug up to his lips and taking a sip.

I rolled my eyes. As if.

"My mom loves you, Brett. She squeals like a school girl every time I bring you up in conversation." I ignored his smirk and continued, cutting off whatever cocky comment he was about to make. "That reminds me, you're coming over for dinner this week."

"I am?" Brett raised his eyebrows, his fork hovering in the air in front of his mouth.

"You are," I answered. "My mom wants you to come."

"And what do you want, Becca?"

What did I want? Before, the thought of Brett being at my apartment for dinner with my mother made me want to gag. The amount of embarrassing facts and memories about me she would no doubt share with him were horrible enough. But now ... the thought of Brett being apart of my family dinners wasn't so odd anymore. I could picture him fitting in perfectly with the two of us.

Maybe it was time my family duo became a trio.

"I want you to come, if you'd like."

Brett smiled widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "If you want me there, then I'll be there." My heart warmed at his words and I couldn't help but lean in and kiss him.

We ate in comfortable silence for a moment, Brett's hand lingering on my knee as he ate with his other one. Us eating breakfast together, the sheer normality of it, made me feel at home. It struck me that this was something I could get used to -- waking up and having every morning be like this. I glanced at Brett as he filled my cup of coffee up, the smile on his face telling me that he was thinking the exact same thing.

"Thank you for this," I told him earnestly, gesturing to the food in front of us. "No on has ever done anything like this for me before." Brett reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers then trailing down my cheek slowly.

"You're welcome, Becs." He kissed me softly, his lips feather light on mine. "I love you," Brett said with his face hovering in front of mine, our breath mingling together.

"I love you, too." I told him, holding his cheek in the palm of my hand, his rough morning stubble scrapping my palm lightly. He tilted his head to the side and kissed my palm.

"My mom used to make a big breakfast every Sunday morning when I was a kid. Eventually, she let me help her when I was old enough." Brett told me, his voice nostalgic as he leaned back in his stool and grabbed my legs, placing them gently on his lap.

"Is there anything you can't do?" I joked, thinking back to last night when the Bears won the game.

"I can't dance," he replied after a moment.

I smacked his arm. "Liar! You danced perfectly at Jenny's party. And I saw you swaying your hips while you were cooking."

"You saw that?" Brett's eyes widened and he scratched his forehead awkwardly. Was he ... embarrassed? For once?

"I did," I said triumphantly. "You've got moves, Wells," I teased, making him chuckle.

"In the bedroom, on the field and in the kitchen," he replied, winking at me while he wiggled his eyebrows.

I mean ... he wasn't wrong.

And by the look on his face, he knew it too.

"Are you feeling alright?" Brett asked suddenly, his eyes scanning my face. I raised my eyebrows and he clarified, "After last night."

I nodded, smiling shyly. "I feel great. Last night was ... new to me, but it was ..." I trailed off, struggling to find the right word. Brett chuckled and rubbed his hands along my legs.

"It'll get easier, Becca."

"What will?"

"Talking about sex," he shrugged, his eyes watching my face closely. I sighed, releasing the tension building up in my chest.

"It doesn't feel like it," I admitted, laughing awkwardly while I rubbed my eyes with my fists.

I didn't think I would ever get used to this -- the way Brett makes me feel, being with him, kissing him. And part of that was a good thing, I never wanted to lose the butterflies.

Brett reached out and grabbed my hands, holding them in his and resting our intertwined fingers on his lap.

"It will," he insisted. "There's no rush, babe. We have all the time in the world." And the way he said it made it seem very, very true.

Brett gently lifted my legs off his and stood up. Walking around the island, I watched as he grabbed the dirty plates and placed them in the dishwasher, then returned the food to the fridge. My eyes lingering on his bare chest, his back and the tattoo covering his right shoulder-blade.

When the counter was clean, Brett walked around the island to me, spinning my stool around to face him and placing his hands on my thighs.

"What would you like to do today, Becca?" He asked, the tone of his voice and the lustful look in his suggesting exactly what he wanted to do.

I hooked my arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to mine. His plump, rosy lips looked so inviting I could hardly keep myself away.

Brett's face hovered in front of mine, teasing as he kissed my bottom lip softly and played with it between his own. After last night, it was like my body had a mind of its own around him -- after having him once, it couldn't get enough.

Just as Brett began to kiss me, a loud chime sounded in the house, then the sound of the front door opening and footsteps trailing over the marble floor. Brett pulled his face back from mine quickly, his eyes widening in horror as he swore under his breath.

"Brett? Who is --"

My words were cut off as a woman's voice yelled, "Brett! Where are you?"

I knew that voice. And the look on Brett's face confirmed that it belonged to his mother.

Brett slammed his palm into the top of the island before running his fingers through his hair in frustration. I could hear his mother's footsteps getting closer but I felt frozen in place.

"I'm sorry," Brett told me urgently as he grabbed his t-shirt and quickly pulled it over his head. "I didn't know she was coming home. I just --" He blew out a breath.

Before I could assure him it was fine - after all, I had briefly met his mother a few days ago - the footsteps sounding in the hallway reached the kitchen, now close enough for me to realize that the sound belonged to two sets of feet, not one.

Brett seemed to realize it at the same time because he turned towards the entryway, stepping to the other side of my stool and placing himself in front of me. What was he --

Over his shoulder I saw his mother enter the kitchen, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw me sitting at the counter behind Brett. Then, the other set of footsteps got louder before another figure emerged from the hallway.

Brett's entire body tensed as a man stepped into the kitchen and stood beside his mother, placing a hand around her waist as she smiled sheepishly.

I gasped as I took in the man's face -- his blue eyes, strong jaw, thick eyebrows and light brown hair. The same man from the family portrait I had seen last night.

The silence was deafening and I struggled to breathe as I realized exactly what was going on.

"Your father's home," was all Brett's mother said.

__

Please tap the star and vote! :)

Hey friends! Sorry for the super long delay in updating, I've been so busy with my stories on the Episode app! I recently published a new story there called "MAID FOR YOU," feel free to check it out -- I posted the link in my last profile post thingie.

Anyways! What did you guys think? Were you surprised that his mother and father showed up or did you expect it? AND! What do you think will happen next? Let me know! x