She got up and went downstairs, wondering where Chas was. As she stood in the kitchen doorway, she smiled. He was wearing the bottoms to a pair of pajamas she bought him last year. They had candy canes all over them. His dark brown hair—which reminded her of dark chocolate when wet—was damp and a crescent-shaped section hung over his forehead. It was clear that he’d taken a shower while she napped. She wondered how he’d been in their bedroom without her knowing. Used to be, she could just sense when he was around her. His chest was bare save for the bib apron he wore. In the front pocket of the apron were a hand towel and a potholder. Tucked into the waistband of his pants was another hand towel. On the counter were several small glass bowls containing various ingredients circling a large mixing bowl, a carton of eggs, and the bottle of Amade ChocOrange liqueur. He picked up a wooden spoon, twirling it like a drummer would a stick, before using it to mix whatever was in the bowl. She watched him, unable to take her eyes off his biceps…watching them pump up and down as he reached for the little glass bowls one at a time, dumping ingredients into the mixing bowl. Exchanging the wooden spoon for a stainless steel whisk, he hummed as he expertly whipped the chocolate-orange velvet cream to a light, delicate fluff. He grabbed a teaspoon from the drawer, which he dipped into the cream. Her eyes followed the spoon to his mouth, eagerly watching his tongue as he licked the remains of the cream off the stainless steel. Her body heated up. She really wanted to go in there, rip off the bib apron, and smear his chest with that cream.