It just settles, letting me know this is exactly where we’re suppose to be.
When I finish hanging the last of his shirts on his side of the closet, I turn around to find him stretched out on my bed wearing nothing but his underwear. His arms folded behind his head, a smug grin tugging at his lips, his eyes tracking every move I make.
“Comfortable?” I ask, arching a brow.
He grins wider. “Just getting used to the view. But since you asked—yes, I’m very comfortable watching you put my clothes away,” he teases.
I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” he says, grabbing himself through the very obvious print in his underwear, “but you like it though.”
He’s right about that—I do.
I toss one of his shirts at him, laughing under my breath. “Oh, shut up. I’m just helping you. Don’t get used to it—I’m not your maid, I’m your girlfriend. But if you prefer me to be your maid as well, I’m gonna need some incentives.”
His gaze drops to where his hand is rubbing—exactly where he wants mine to be. He snatches the shirt midair, standing he walks toward me with a steady confidence he wears better than anything in this closet.
“I’m gonna take a shower, sexy. And when I come back…”
His eyes trail down my body, slow and indulgent.
“…I want you in that bed. Naked. Understand?”
My breath hitches low in my chest, heat sparking through me. I bite my lip, nodding, a playful smirk tugging at my mouth—and I swear a tiny giggle slips out of me.
“Okay.”
The bathroom door clicks shut behind him, and I finally exhale. The room feels quieter now, heavy with anticipation. I pick up the shirt I threw earlier, hanging it properly, sliding the closet door closed hoping to trap my nerves inside with it.
Without wasting another second, I untie my pink silk robe and let it slip to the floor, the fabric pooling at my feet before I crawl into bed. The cool sheets kiss against my bare skin, decadent enough to make me shiver. I reach for the remote and flip on some music.
A soft rhythm drifts through the room, warming the air. There’s nothing more intimate—nothing more dangerous—than letting yourself sit in a moment while music’s playing. It turns everything into something deeper, slower, almost romantic. Temptation waiting backstage for its cue.
A few minutes pass before the door swings open, and my lungs miss a beat.
Water glistens across his skin, tracking down the sharp lines of his abs. His towel hangs low on his hips, teasingmore than it hides. Leaning casually against the doorframe, he pauses long enough to make me squirm.
A slow smirk curves his lips as he drags a hand through his wet hair, water tracing every muscle, showing off just for me.
“You listened,” he says, voice low and rough. His blue eyes darken as they sweep over the sheets tucked around me. “Good girl.”
He pushes off the doorframe, crossing the room in a few unhurried, predatory strides, savoring every second before he gets to devour me. The towel slips from his hips the moment he reaches the bed, climbing onto top of me with a hunger that radiates from him.
His damp skin meets mine, his weight settling over me in the most delicious way. For a moment, all I can do is feel—the heat, the pressure, the want—every inch of him reminding me exactly why it was a good idea of letting him move in. The idea of him living here suddenly feeling less like a risk and more like inevitability.
His lips glide from my earlobe down the curve of my neck, each kiss warmer than the last. Reaching my chest, his mouth closes around my pierced nipple pulling hard with his teeth. Pain and pleasure blur together, racing through every nerve I have. I gasp, caught somewhere between wanting it to stop and wanting more.
His hand slides in between my legs, slipping a finger inside my needy pussy. A sound slips from—half moan, half plea—as his rhythm quickens, shoving another finger deep inside me.
My breath breaks apart—desperate almost, as he pushes me toward the edge he knows too damn well, dragging heat through my body, that always leaves me trembling for more.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, gaze locked on mine. “God, I could get drunk off you,” he murmurs, eyes blazing. “I crave you more than food itself.”
He growls, gripping my jaw with one hand as he presses his fingers to my lips, letting me know it isn’t a request.
I take his fingers into my mouth, eyes locked on his, letting him watch every slow glide of my tongue. His expression shifts to something darker, drinking in the control he has over me.
I give his fingers one last lingering lick before they slip free. His dick is still a little wet from the shower, and freshly shaved so I can see every vein wrapping around his thick, perfectly sculpted length.
