Ashton’s POV
I stride purposefully toward the worktop, grabbing a mug and placing it under the machine before jabbing the start button. My body stiffens a split second before the sweet, heady scent of vanilla hits me, telling me that she’s now behind me.
‘Do you need me to make you breakfast? I can do an omelette or just some cereal?’ she asks tentatively.
I fight the desperate urge to inhale her scent, my muscles locked tight as I give a stiff shake my head.
‘No, it’s fine, I’ll just grab something at the Arena,’ I mutter. My fingers grip into the edge of the granite worktop as I try desperately to suppress my reaction to her presence.
‘Are you sure? It’s no problem, you should eat before you play . . . you need fuel to burn . . .’ Luna murmurs softly. My stomach does that weird loop
