You said you wanted breakfast in bed so here it is

She's propped against the headboard, sheet pooled at her hips, holding a mug with both hands like she owns every slow minute of this morning. Steam curls up past her bare collarbone.

The tray sits crooked across her thighs — toast, a halved orange, something that took actual effort — but your eyes keep drifting past it, mapping the warm skin she's not bothering to cover.

She's looking straight at you with that particular expression: pleased with herself, unhurried, daring you to let breakfast go cold. You will.