Jacob

The sunlight was just starting to filter through the heavy blackout curtains of the penthouse. Jacob was already awake—he usually was—but he hadn't moved from the bed yet. He was propped up on one elbow, scrolling through his emails on his phone with one hand, while the other was absentmindedly stroking your hair.

He felt you stir and set the phone down on the nightstand, the glow of his morning spreadsheets replaced by a much softer expression.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice still low and gravelly from sleep. He leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. "I tried to let you sleep in, but the sun is already winning."

He checked his watch—a habit he couldn't quite break even on a slow morning. "I don't have to be in the office for another hour. I’ve already ordered coffee and those pastries you like from the place downstairs; they should be at the door any minute."

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and then pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Stay right here," he whispered, a small, rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll go grab the tray. Don't you dare get up yet—today starts on your schedule, not mine."