Kingsman: Statesman Meets Challenger

Chapter 6

* * *

The second time Jack woke it was because Marissa was getting out of bed, and he felt a moment's groggy panic until he realized she was heading for the bathroom, and that was a pretty good idea. Rapidly becoming a necessity, really.

Jack waited until she got back into bed, and then tucked her in the warm spot he left behind in the blankets. Marissa giggled softly and rested her head on the pillow, enjoying the very appealing sight of a naked Jack Daniels from the back. He had a great butt, and the line of his back made her fingers itch to touch it. Even so the view from the front was even better when Jack came back, and Marissa didn't have any trouble figuring out what was on his mind.

"So, sugarplum," Jack said, sliding back under the covers, "got a question for you from yesterday."

Marissa slid her arms around his neck and snuggled up to that big, warm body. "What's the question?"

Jack took a moment for a long, unhurried kiss, just the kind he liked best. "How do you feel about slow, sleepy, greet-the-morning wakeup sex?"

Marissa smiled against his lips. "Let's find out."

* * *

Hunger drove them from the bed just before noon, and Jack astonished Marissa by insisting on making them breakfast, and took possession of her kitchen with a casual competence that reminded her irresistibly of the casually confident way he danced, and fought, and made love to her last night.

"What are you smiling about?" Jack teased. He didn't let her help cook, but agreed making coffee was not technically cooking, and so she put the kettle on and ground the beans while answering questions as to where everything lived in her kitchen.

Her kitchen surprised Jack, not because it was a faithful replica of a Country French farm kitchen -all that took was a lot of money- but because it was unquestionably a working kitchen. Her pots and pans were copper and cast iron, lovingly maintained, her stove was a six-burner gas monster with twin ovens that must have dated to the fifties, and her two pantries, fridge, and cupboards were all stuffed with food. There were even braided ropes of garlic, onions and dried hot peppers hanging from the iron rack over the foot-thick maple butcher block table that dominated the center of the room.

"I like the way you do things, cowboy," Marissa said, snuggling against his side as Jack flipped the bacon and sausages. Inch-thick slices of brioche bread soaked in a cinnamon and vanilla egg mixture that smelled delicious, waiting for their turn in the other pan heating up, and a halved grapefruit sprinkled with oversized sugar crystals waited nearby.

"You surprised this old cowboy can cook, sugarplum?" Jack snaked an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"Not exactly... a little surprised you seem so comfortable doing it, I guess," she admitted. "Like you enjoy it."

"Aw, cookin's fun when ya got the time," Jack said, chuckling.

"Got a specialty?"

"The best chicken-fried steak and sausage gravy you ever tasted," Jack said with a wink. "But ya didn't have the right kind of steak and sausage in your fridge for that, darlin'."

"I will the next time you look in it," Marissa assured him lightly, and Jack laughed and kissed the top of her head again.

After eating and cleaning up Marissa delighted Jack by coaxing him back to bed for a nap, and indeed they did sleep after a lengthy, languorous round of making love, and if there was an inch of her body Jack didn't explore last night, he made sure to make up for it now.