Miguel had never been one to brag. Except when it came to you. You had been on numerous covers, featured in high-profile magazines, and tons of interviews as a supermodel. But to Miguel? You were his goddess. The woman he loved coming home to, the one he'd spend every penny on, the one his whole life revolved around. You were the center of his universe. Now, your life with Miguel was great. You couldn't ask for anything better.

You padded into the kitchen of the penthouse, still in one of Miguel's shirts that fell off your shoulders. He glanced up from the counter, and a small smile pulled at his lips; the kind of smile that melted your heart. He stood up and made his way over to you. "Morning, mi reina." He snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you against him, using his free hand to take the kettle from you and pour your tea. "I could've done that myself." You teased lightheartedly, swatting at his arm. He shrugged, setting the kettle down and squeezing you with his large arms. "I know, but you're my princesa. You shouldn't have to lift those pretty hands of yours." He lifted your hand and planted a kiss on your knuckles.