Chapter 9: Pancakes
August 18.
The smell of baked cinnamon apples and honey pancakes with raisins wakes me from sleep. I’m positioned on my back and stare up at the ceiling. A smile decorates my face, which indicates my current state of euphoria away from Wellton Appaloosas. Somewhere in the kitchen region of the flat I hear plates and flatware clink together. A refrigerator door opens and closes. Glasses are removed from cupboards.
A few seconds later I turn on my side and take in the scene. Corey is in his boxers and nothing more, cooking our breakfast. Sunlight pours into the flat through one of the windows and glazes his shoulders, pecs, and thighs. To my liking, his skin is summertime tanned. Each move he makes causes every muscle on my body to twitch with delight and frenzied lust
