Out of here.I blink at him.
“Give them to me.”
He’s staring at me like I’ve unzipped my skull and plucked out my brain, but I don’t care. I snatch his clothes, stomp down the hall, and toss them in the dryer. Grabbing a pair of sweats from my dresser, I return to the bathroom to find him leaning on the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest.
“Here.”
He takes the pants gingerly, examining them. “I hope you don’t like these.”
“Why?”
Wobbling a little, he pulls them on. “Because you’re never getting them back.”
I’m surprised my eyes haven’t gotten stuck with how often he makes me roll them. Once he’s decent— not by much because I can totally see the outline of his dick-piercing through thegrey cotton— he picks up his shoes and disappears through the bedroom. Assuming he went to get water or something, I brush my teeth.
Mitz meows from the living room.
Bags rustle in the kitchen.
I put on a pair of gym shorts and rush out to find Win putting groceries in my fridge. Mitz sits on the counter, tail twitching as she watches him skeptically.
That makes two of us.
He shuts the refrigerator and glances over his shoulder.
“I’ll get my clothes tomorrow, I guess,” he says, resignation lining his features. A sad smile and dark circles under his tired eyes pull on my heartstrings.
He pads to the door—
Nope.
Absolutely not.
He’s not doing this.
I march over, grab his hand and drag him to my room.
“What—”
“Nice try, asshole, but you’re not escaping that easily.”
I push him back on the bed.
“I thought you—”
Crawling onto the mattress, I flop on my side and yank the idiot against me, securing an arm around his waist and threading our fingers.
He’s stiff as a board.
“You’re not being a very good little spoon.”
He relaxes slightly. I bury my nose in his damp hair, inhaling the mixture of his natural musk and the scent of my shampoo. A primal monster buried deep within surfaces.
“Win, Win, Win,” I sigh. “What am I gonna do with you?”
Finally, he liquifies, his breathing slowing. “Hold me until I fall asleep.”
Fucking. Hell.
