“Did Elijah and Amelia have to do this?”
He nods and licks his plump lips. “They finished already.”
“And you have to do this? You don’t have a choice?” I ask, feeling slightly frustrated at the label for overworking him.
“Fans already bought these products. I have to sign these, so they can send them out.”
I’m shocked. No one deserves to sit through almost a hundred boxes of products, filled to the rim, and sign them.
“I have to start this before I don’t finish in time and get beat,” he whines and throws his body back dramatically on the ground. Leonidas’s arms and legs spread like a starfish. He’s such a goofball.
Straddling him, I kiss his jaw playfully. “Teach me your signature, and I’ll help you with all that.”
He mutters against my neck, creating goose bumps, “I would get in so much trouble.”
“No one needs to know.”
His fingers grip my jaw, pulling my face down. He stares deeply into my eyes. “You’re such a bad girl. I fucking love it.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me want to melt, but I’m a woman on a mission. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”
Grinning, he places open-mouthed kisses on my neck. I frown in confusion when his lips stay in that area for a while without moving.
What is he doing?
I try pulling away, but he holds me in place by the neck.
“Don’t move,” he mumbles against my skin.
“Why?”
“I can feel your heartbeat on my lips.” He sighs, making butterflies take flight in my belly.
What did I do to deserve this guy? His soul is sweeter than the richest chocolate.
I stay in place as long as Leonidas wishes. I smile when I feel him smirk as his lips brush against my skin. I lean up and find him with his eyes closed.
His voice is hoarse as he whispers up to me, “I’m playing dead.”
I have to hold back a laugh. “Dead people don’t talk. You know that, right?”
“There’s a first for everything.”
I slap his shoulder when he comes back alive.
“Oh my God, he’s alive. He’s been brought back from the dead!” I whisper-shout dramatically while fanning myself. “I think I’m going to faint.”
“Shut up.” He smiles.
A few minutes later, when we collect ourselves, he teaches me his signature. It’s pretty simple. I get the hang of it after practicing multiple times. The both of us sit cross-legged on the floor beside each other. We each start with a box of our own. He shows me where to sign and where not to. I sign almost hundreds of hoodies that readDrakos Addictwith a guitar. I’m definitely stealing one of these later.
After a couple of hours of signing, my hand cramps up. My body is begging for me to get up and walk around. I can tell just by looking at Leonidas that he feels the same.
“Thank you for doing this for me. I really appreciate it,” he mutters as he focuses down on the hat he’s signing.
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s not a big deal.”
I watch as the Sharpie in his hand drops to the floor.
